James took me to see Tori Amos in concert at the Greek Theatre (October, 1998). I was so moved and touched by her performance that right after I got home, I wrote about my experience. I submitted it to the Dent, where it was initially posted.

October 1, 1998 - It's 12:50 am now and I just came home from watching an incredibly energetic and memorable performance by Tori and her band at the Greek Theatre. Tori sounds like such a rock and roll gig with her new band. The lights, smoke, her strong voice and incredible energy lit up the stage and the whole auditorium. Girls walked around with glitters on their faces and wings on their backs. Very angelic. People were having a great time. I've always liked Tori but I've only seen her perform live twice. The first time was in a parking lot in Hollywood a few months ago.

I liked all her songs tonight. She improvised with her band on "Cruel" and it sounded incredible in conjunction with the lights and smoke emitting from the stage. It's better than I've ever heard it. I appreciate all the rhythm and beat that her band brings to her music. Now I can sway my hips and dance to it.

The one song that especially stood out for me tonight was "Me and a Gun". She sang it in a storytelling way, poignantly and honestly. She said a fan requested it and that she doesn't sing it much anymore. "It's just one of those things," she muttered quietly as though to herself, but yet amplified loudly enough for her fans to hear. I knew what she meant. Some things we just rather put behind us and move on.

As she sang the song, couched over and straddling the bench that sit between her piano and digital keyboard, she retold the story of her rape. She seemed to move back and forth to keep herself in rhythm because this was just between her and her audience. She had no accompaniment as her band had left the stage and she was not playing her piano. It was extremely effective and personal even though I was sitting in the C section towards the back. Nonetheless, her voice resonated through the open auditorium and her every word pierced through me. Her voice, at once sad, angry, defiant and triumphant, evoked that wide range of emotions within me.

The audience was attentive and quiet and shared in the moment with Tori. Tears streamed steadily and uncontrollably down my face as Tori recounted her experience. It was such a catharsis. I could feel that the women to the right of me and to the left of my boyfriend were also crying as I noticed them wiping their eyes and face intermittently as Tori retold her story. Someone in the audience had wanted or needed to hear the song but I didn't know I had needed to too.

I heard what she sang about but it was me that I cried for. She touched me deeply when she recounted that she was thinking of Carolina and the sweet things she remembered about it as the man unzipped his pants. Tori's story took me back to my night of despair and desperation. I was raped by a UCLA student while I was attending UCLA a few years ago. As he pinned me down on the bed with his hands and legs, I too was thinking about home that night, my mother in particular, and if I will ever see her again. Wishing and praying that I could be home again.

As Tori sang, I could tell that she hadn't forgotten about her rape and still could get back to that moment and place. When our lives were in someone else's hands and could have ended in a matter of seconds, do we dare forget?

It was around the time I was raped that I really understood and felt what Tori sang about in her songs and really appreciated her work and strength in coming forward about her experience. I felt like she spoke to me directly and honestly. Yes, me alone, as each woman may feel. She guided me towards womanhood. She taught me to be a strong woman and not be afraid of authority or anyone else who threatens to silence me.

Tori channels her energy and passion and shares her painful experience through her songs whereas I write about mine. I think it's so important for us to gain the strength to break the silence and be our own women and "no one else's girl," as Tori would put it.

Thanks Tori for showing me the way.

(Thanks James for introducing me to her music and taking me to her concert tonight. It was very memorable and special, as you can tell.)

In sisterhood,
Kathy Chin
(Los Angeles, CA)