The truth behind rape culture

So, I have no idea how many times I have written about the ravages of sexual assault and abuse. I suppose I keep writing about it, because it's something I know and understand from the inside.

I know that it twists and tears apart the person you are, and sometimes who you intended to be. Sure, you can move on from assault or abuse. You can find happiness and satisfaction in your life again. You can contribute so much to the world around you. 

I know that these acts aren't about love or even lust. They are about power, entitlement, opportunity and a lack of respect. They are about living in a world where boys, men, and even girls and women are brought up believing that you can wear the wrong thing, you should always be on your guard, you should try to strike exactly the right balance of friendliness, you shouldn't drink or go places alone. The list is longer than that, but you get the idea. 

I don't write about it as a play for pity or sympathy. I write about it because I recognize this piece of who I am touches so many things in my life, even though I have spent time in therapy, and I have found happiness and some successes. I don't want it to. And people might say "Well, then, don't let it." But it's not as simple as that. 

In recent days, many of us have been shocked and outraged by the case of a Stanford swimmer (A.K.A. The guy who raped an unconscious woman by a dumpster) who was convicted of sexual assault and eligible to receive a 14-year sentence, but instead received a mere six months in a county jail along with probation. People who came to his defense, and the media have regaled us with his accomplishments, potential, his "sweetness," and even his favorite foods. 

Sadly, we have been shocked, but we really shouldn't be. 

After reading letters by those who came to his defense, and newspaper articles about this guy, it might actually be difficult for someone not to mistake him for the victim. It's almost as if an unconscious, half-naked woman committed a heinous crime against him. 

The actual victim courageously shared her side of things in court, even after it was clear that a judge had decided her rapist's life and potential mattered more than hers had on the night she was attacked, and even in that courtroom. She agreed to share that story with all of us. She did it to remind all of us who the victim in this case was, and to say that her life, and the lives of all victims matter.

Our culture is completely wrong-headed when it comes to women. It's wrong-headed about the LGBT community as well, but that's a topic for another day.

Our culture identifies girls and women primarily as sexual objects. We are inferior, and incapable of making appropriate decisions about our bodies, and reproductive destinies. It is our own fault that assailants attack and abuse us. We aren't truly entitled to equal self-determination. Our bodies shouldn't really be ours to govern. 

I have frequently seen the following statement in meme form: "Bills regulating women's bodies in 2013 alone: 624. Bill a regulating men's bodies since the dawn of time: 0.

I don't know if it's accurate, but I can't say that I remember ever hearing of or seeing anything dictating a man's reproductive rights or access to any kind of healthcare. Men haven't had to march or fight for their right to vote. They don't continue to fight for equality in the workforce and compensation. 

What does this meme have to with sexual violence? It is an evidential statement of how our culture views and values women. What do our fights for electoral, professional and social equality have to do with sexual violence? EVERYTHING. 

If my life had never been "touched" by abuse, I know that my world view would be quite different. I might even be different. I had been outgoing. I had been socially active. I wanted to try out for cheerleading, my highschool's dance squad, and plays. I liked myself. I was excited about all the possibilities life might hold. I was eager to jump in with both feet--to take risks and to fail.

All of that "life" slowly trickled away as a result of the abuse. 

Upon learning of what had happened to me, my one-time favorite aunt told another family member that she wasn't surprised about what had happened to me. After all, I had always enjoyed trying to wrestle and rough house with the boyfriends she had while I was a young child. 

My assailant was a relative. His entire family disowned me and called me a liar. I had no proof. And it wouldn't have mattered if I did. After all, I was guilty of destroying his life.

These are the kinds of things that can happen when you tell. These are the things that devalue you further.

I have a beautiful little girl--something always secretly wanted, but especially feared because of my own past. When we go to the park, I watch her anxiously as she climbs ladders and playground features well above my height. I know that she will one day fall and hurt herself. I will hate it when it happens, but I will be okay with it. Cuts and bruises heal. I try not to be a helicopter mom, but I admit that when we go somewhere alone, I panic if she leaves my sight--even for a second.

When I was a child, I used to disappear from my parents' sight for hours. 

Today, my husband and I live in a really safe town and have fantastic neighbors. But I find it difficult to even contemplate giving our daughter that kind of freedom. And that makes me so sad. As parents, we all have our worries, and we all do what we can to keep our kids safe and healthy. 

I can, and should help her learn about the dangers of falling from playground equipment. I should remind her that, on a summer day, the slide might be hot enough to burn her skin. I should tell her not to run out into the parking lot. 

All of those things seem reasonable and fair. But if nothing changes in our culture, I will also have to warn her of the dangers of wearing the wrong clothes, going places by herself, being "too" friendly or "too" aloof, and drinking at a party. I will have to teach her how not to invite rape. 

As the case of this young woman has become yet another call to action against sexual violence against women, one of the recurring themes is that we must teach our sons not to rape. It seems like that should be a no-brainer, but when you look at the treatment of women all over the world, clearly it is not.

Parents shouldn't have to teach their daughters how not to invite rape. I'm not even very sure that parents should have to teach their sons not to rape. I'm afraid maybe if we think we need to teach these things to our kids that something else is broken and it goes much, much deeper than teaching to prevent one act. 

The only real and truly meaningful way to tackle sexual violence and abuse is to demand a seismic shift in the value of women and girls in our culture. We need to teach and practice values that foster equality, dignity, freedom and respect. We need to give women power over their own bodies and reproductive destinies--without question or restriction. We need to teach men and boys that the only "power" or "control" they are entitled to when it comes to women and girls is power and control over themselves.

I won't disagree with the fact that the life and path of the young man who raped an unconscious woman by a dumpster has been forever changed. I won't argue that he might find it very difficult to pick up where his life left off before he took power and control over that woman's body. But I will shout from any rooftop that her life was more altered. While people consciously or unconsciously supported our culture of rape and female inferiority by fretting about this boy's once brilliant life and future, another person's life and future were left alongside a dumpster. 

Our freedom matters. Our bodies belong to us alone. Our futures are brilliant. Our equality and dignity should not be questioned. Our voices need to be louder. Our lives matter.

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