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Summary of Chanel Miller's Know My Name
Summary of Chanel Miller's Know My Name
Summary of Chanel Miller's Know My Name
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Summary of Chanel Miller's Know My Name

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Please note: This is a companion version & not the original book.

Book Preview: #1 I am shy. I’ve never asked a question in a large lecture hall. I’ve always rolled my shopping cart back to its place of origin if there’s no more half-and-half on the counter at the coffee shop.

#2 I went to Stanford with my parents. I was dropped off near the Stanford bookstore, where on rainy days my mom had brought me for hot cocoa and madeleines. I drank whiskey straight, unapologetically, freely.

#3 I was at a party, and I was bored. I began freestyle rapping about dry skin. I was extremely tired, and I had outgrown everything around me. I was lying in a narrow bed with plastic guardrails on each side, an adult crib.

#4 I always wondered why survivors understood other survivors so well. It wasn’t the specifics of the assault that we had in common, but the moment after, when we are left alone and confused.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherIRB Media
Release dateFeb 28, 2022
ISBN9781669354390
Summary of Chanel Miller's Know My Name
Author

IRB Media

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    Summary of Chanel Miller's Know My Name - IRB Media

    Insights on Chanel Miller's Know My Name

    Contents

    Insights from Chapter 1

    Insights from Chapter 2

    Insights from Chapter 3

    Insights from Chapter 4

    Insights from Chapter 5

    Insights from Chapter 6

    Insights from Chapter 7

    Insights from Chapter 8

    Insights from Chapter 9

    Insights from Chapter 10

    Insights from Chapter 11

    Insights from Chapter 12

    Insights from Chapter 13

    Insights from Chapter 14

    Insights from Chapter 1

    #1

    I am shy. I’ve never asked a question in a large lecture hall. I’ve always rolled my shopping cart back to its place of origin if there’s no more half-and-half on the counter at the coffee shop.

    #2

    I went to Stanford with my parents. I was dropped off near the Stanford bookstore, where on rainy days my mom had brought me for hot cocoa and madeleines. I drank whiskey straight, unapologetically, freely.

    #3

    I was at a party, and I was bored. I began freestyle rapping about dry skin. I was extremely tired, and I had outgrown everything around me. I was lying in a narrow bed with plastic guardrails on each side, an adult crib.

    #4

    I always wondered why survivors understood other survivors so well. It wasn’t the specifics of the assault that we had in common, but the moment after, when we are left alone and confused.

    #5

    I was taken to the SART building, a sterile room with one toilet. I had trees shed from above, and everything felt wrong, but I felt a deadened calm. I did not understand how I had ended up in that situation, but I was calm.

    #6

    I was given an orange folder with black-and-white xeroxed packets about PTSD, crooked staples, and convoluted lists of phone numbers. I was not alone, it said in bold letters. I was not to blame.

    #7

    I had to take off my clothes and stand naked in front of doctors who were taking pictures of my body. I was terrified, but the nurses’ gentle voices helped me relax.

    #8

    I was given a hospital gown and escorted into another room with what looked like a dentist’s chair. I lay back with my legs spread apart, feet perched on stirrups. Above me was a picture of a sailboat, thumbtacked to the ceiling.

    #9

    I understood the hands on my shoulders were keeping me from falling into an abyss. I gave my body over to them, while my mind bobbed in the light stream of conversation. The primary feeling was warmth.

    #10

    I wanted to beat my head against the wall, to knock the memory loose. I began twisting off the caps, pouring the glossy shampoos over my chest. I let my hair drop over my face, scorched my skin, and stood among a scattering of empty bottles.

    #11

    The

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