I have been thinking a lot about rape culture this week, even though I haven't been talking about it. It's hard to talk about, and I'm inarticulate in doing so. But after talking about Bikini Kill last night, I'm thinking it's better to express thoughts, however imperfectly, than to not explore them.
This is one of the saddest and most infuriating stories I have ever read. A 16-year-old girl was gang raped and beaten in Richmond. Up to 20 people watched, and nobody called the police for more than two hours. Six males — I can't call them men, and they're not really boys — were charged with assault, but police are still tracking down the rapists who fled the scene.
I have been thinking about this girl for the past week. I cannot imagine the depth of her trauma, or how she will begin to heal, or how unjust it is that her recovery will take place in a rape culture. I feel like people sometimes close their ears when they hear that phrase, and there is indeed something very Women's Studies 101 about it, but that doesn't change the reality that our culture often sexualizes violence. Blames the victim. Sidesteps the statistic that one in six American women is raped.
Today's newspaper had a photo of teenage girls carrying handmade signs of support... for the rapists. (Wrong place, wrong time!) I can't explain how upsetting it is to know that the victim's peers stood by and watched this happen, and that some of them are supporting the perpetrators. The most depressing thing of all is that as horrible as I find this story, it doesn't shock me like it should. Victim-blaming never seems to go out of style.
I think about this poor girl, and girls and women like her, and it makes me so angry that my loudest scream would just barely voice the beginnings of my rage. And I hate having to consider my safety in certain ways that men generally do not. For instance: I pay $18 for a cab ride home because I don't feel safe hobbling the two blocks from the train to my house at night. I do not invite men to my house on a first or second or even third date unless I know my roommate is home. I need more than two hands to count the number of friends who have experienced some form of sexual assault.
I hate having to live this way.
Once, when I was 17 years old, I was driving around town on a humid summer night, looking for my skater friends. I didn't find them, but in a parking lot near a bar, I saw a college-aged couple arguing. It wasn't a cute couple's tiff; even from 50 feet away, I could feel the violence about to unfold. The woman was telling the large, drunk guy to leave her alone, she wanted to go home. But he'd snatched her keys, and he blocked her from escaping by pressing her against the car. I pulled up, summoned whatever force I could in my squeaky little voice, and said, "Is there a problem here?"
He turned and said no, of course not. The woman's eyes, and all that I could see with my eyes, said otherwise. "I'm thinking maybe you should give the lady her keys," I said. "Or I'd be happy to call the police and have them help you do it." I remember my legs shaking; I remember thinking maybe I had gotten myself into something I shouldn't have.
I don't know why this man gave up, but he did, tossing the keys at the woman's feet. He called her a bitch and he called me a fucking bitch before stumbling back to the bar. The woman cried and looked ashamed and quietly thanked me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't feel heroic or anything. We each got into our cars and crossed the bridge to the south end of town.
I'm never sure what to think of that story. Part of me thinks that it was not the smartest idea to confront a visibly angry and potentially violent man. Most of me thinks that it would have been worse to do nothing. A sliver of me worries that maybe I made it worse for her later. Mostly I just feel bad about that situation, and I feel bad for the girl in Richmond, and I feel bad that these are just two of so many violent stories that should never have unfolded in the first place.
This is one of the saddest and most infuriating stories I have ever read. A 16-year-old girl was gang raped and beaten in Richmond. Up to 20 people watched, and nobody called the police for more than two hours. Six males — I can't call them men, and they're not really boys — were charged with assault, but police are still tracking down the rapists who fled the scene.
I have been thinking about this girl for the past week. I cannot imagine the depth of her trauma, or how she will begin to heal, or how unjust it is that her recovery will take place in a rape culture. I feel like people sometimes close their ears when they hear that phrase, and there is indeed something very Women's Studies 101 about it, but that doesn't change the reality that our culture often sexualizes violence. Blames the victim. Sidesteps the statistic that one in six American women is raped.
Today's newspaper had a photo of teenage girls carrying handmade signs of support... for the rapists. (Wrong place, wrong time!) I can't explain how upsetting it is to know that the victim's peers stood by and watched this happen, and that some of them are supporting the perpetrators. The most depressing thing of all is that as horrible as I find this story, it doesn't shock me like it should. Victim-blaming never seems to go out of style.
I think about this poor girl, and girls and women like her, and it makes me so angry that my loudest scream would just barely voice the beginnings of my rage. And I hate having to consider my safety in certain ways that men generally do not. For instance: I pay $18 for a cab ride home because I don't feel safe hobbling the two blocks from the train to my house at night. I do not invite men to my house on a first or second or even third date unless I know my roommate is home. I need more than two hands to count the number of friends who have experienced some form of sexual assault.
I hate having to live this way.
Once, when I was 17 years old, I was driving around town on a humid summer night, looking for my skater friends. I didn't find them, but in a parking lot near a bar, I saw a college-aged couple arguing. It wasn't a cute couple's tiff; even from 50 feet away, I could feel the violence about to unfold. The woman was telling the large, drunk guy to leave her alone, she wanted to go home. But he'd snatched her keys, and he blocked her from escaping by pressing her against the car. I pulled up, summoned whatever force I could in my squeaky little voice, and said, "Is there a problem here?"
He turned and said no, of course not. The woman's eyes, and all that I could see with my eyes, said otherwise. "I'm thinking maybe you should give the lady her keys," I said. "Or I'd be happy to call the police and have them help you do it." I remember my legs shaking; I remember thinking maybe I had gotten myself into something I shouldn't have.
I don't know why this man gave up, but he did, tossing the keys at the woman's feet. He called her a bitch and he called me a fucking bitch before stumbling back to the bar. The woman cried and looked ashamed and quietly thanked me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't feel heroic or anything. We each got into our cars and crossed the bridge to the south end of town.
I'm never sure what to think of that story. Part of me thinks that it was not the smartest idea to confront a visibly angry and potentially violent man. Most of me thinks that it would have been worse to do nothing. A sliver of me worries that maybe I made it worse for her later. Mostly I just feel bad about that situation, and I feel bad for the girl in Richmond, and I feel bad that these are just two of so many violent stories that should never have unfolded in the first place.
Labels: politics
If I were eight, McCain's VP choice of Sarah Palin would excite me. As an adult, I should be excited that a woman might be the second-in-command in the White House.
But let's be real: Palin is a weak pick, and it's tokenism in the ugliest way.
I didn't support Hillary in the primaries, but I never questioned her political skill or ability to lead. She was a strong candidate not because of her gender, made stronger to some voters because she did so well despite the sexism that tainted the media coverage. Still, nobody could argue that she was almost the nominee because she's a woman; she won it because she's a ball-buster.
And then we get to Palin, a former Miss Alaska runner-up whose greatest pre-gubernatorial accomplishment was being the mayor of Wasilla, Alaska (pop. 8,500). She has been governor of Alaska for less than two years. Simply put, she doesn't have the chops to have the second most powerful position in the country (if not the world). So for once, I'm sad to say that her choice was more about her gender, about picking a woman — any woman, gotta get those bitter Hillary voters! — than about skills or accomplishments. That's doubly depressing because it shows what the McCain campaign really thinks about women: That we are so dumb that we'll back an inexperienced candidate simply because we have the same chromosomal pattern.
But let's be real: Palin is a weak pick, and it's tokenism in the ugliest way.
I didn't support Hillary in the primaries, but I never questioned her political skill or ability to lead. She was a strong candidate not because of her gender, made stronger to some voters because she did so well despite the sexism that tainted the media coverage. Still, nobody could argue that she was almost the nominee because she's a woman; she won it because she's a ball-buster.
And then we get to Palin, a former Miss Alaska runner-up whose greatest pre-gubernatorial accomplishment was being the mayor of Wasilla, Alaska (pop. 8,500). She has been governor of Alaska for less than two years. Simply put, she doesn't have the chops to have the second most powerful position in the country (if not the world). So for once, I'm sad to say that her choice was more about her gender, about picking a woman — any woman, gotta get those bitter Hillary voters! — than about skills or accomplishments. That's doubly depressing because it shows what the McCain campaign really thinks about women: That we are so dumb that we'll back an inexperienced candidate simply because we have the same chromosomal pattern.
Labels: politics
Last night, Phil and I went to Josh and JR's apartment to watch the returns. Around 11, the stress was taking its toll on my acorn-brain, and we left soon thereafter. From then on, the only news I had came in the form of a text message from Jesse, who informed me that Bush had won Ohio. And so that was that. My dreams were threaded with anxiety and sadness and, ultimately, confusion. I don't know what to think or how to feel.
One thing is certain: I'm concerned that this country is being taken over by right-wing zealots who put their religion before reason; who believe that raping innocent Iraqis is akin to fraternity hazin,g but that the real crime is lesbianism; who would rather give tax breaks to the wealthy than provide social programs for poor children. Is this the best we can do? I refuse to think that it is, and so I'll stubbornly cling to idealism and the necessity of change. I think it's possible to lose, but being defeated is a choice that's up to us.
And finally, on a similarly incoherent but less serious note: what is so wrong with being a tree-hugging, latte-drinking liberal? What's not to like about trees? Have critics of liberalism ever tried a latte? They're delicious.
One thing is certain: I'm concerned that this country is being taken over by right-wing zealots who put their religion before reason; who believe that raping innocent Iraqis is akin to fraternity hazin,g but that the real crime is lesbianism; who would rather give tax breaks to the wealthy than provide social programs for poor children. Is this the best we can do? I refuse to think that it is, and so I'll stubbornly cling to idealism and the necessity of change. I think it's possible to lose, but being defeated is a choice that's up to us.
And finally, on a similarly incoherent but less serious note: what is so wrong with being a tree-hugging, latte-drinking liberal? What's not to like about trees? Have critics of liberalism ever tried a latte? They're delicious.
Labels: politics
