In the process of tangling with some bloggers around social software, a new service called FriendFeed and the experience of lifestreaming data, I ended up going deep into Stephanie Quilao’s blog, Back in Skinny Jeans, and reading a series of entries from 2006 that chronicled her rape by a co-worker at a Silicon Valley firm and the subsequent pain, suffering and dysfunction that followed in

It was about 3am. I had just shuffled back to my hospital bed from the restroom. I needed a nurse’s aide to help me get re-situated in bed. I am a feisty, independent woman. I hate asking for help to go to bed. But I need to be propped up, and re-nested in this clumsy jumble of bedclothes and hospital equipment. A woman comes to help who seems to be in her mid-30’s. I comment about her lovely haircut, trying to get the focus off my clumsiness, my unappealingly infected legs. “Yeah, “ she says, “it grew back well after the chemo. I was relieved.”

"The program 'has dared me to hope-of having a house, of living in peace, of reclaiming my dynamism, my dignity. If not director of a school, I would like to be someone of importance, someone of value again.'"--Honorata (pictured above) about her experience with Women for Women International.