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polimicksThis one is going to be particularly upsetting to some people. And let me reassure you that the one specific in this post is not anyone who reads this. I am going to ask that if you feel the need to jump my shit for saying any of this, that you take a break first. Because I feel amazingly fragile for just having written it out.
He doesn't look like a rapist does he? He's smiling with his lovely wife. But he is. DNA evidence from multiple victims convicted this man as a serial rapist in England. The Thursday rapist, from 1998 until 2006 he attacked women ranging in age from 12 years old on up, there are no ages given for his adult victims. On the Thursdays that he was out assaulting other women, his wife thought he was tinkering on cars, and was grateful for a night to watch whatever she wanted on the television.
When I go back through my high school yearbooks, and see the picture of the guy who raped me, I am frequently struck by how very young and child-like he looks to me now. We were fifteen when he raped me, and he looked his age. He was also on the varsity football team, and had no shortage of girls to to choose from. In fact, after he raped then dumped me, he immediately took up with another girl, who managed to escape unscathed. I never told her he'd raped me, but he'd been asshole-ish enough to her without rape that she thought she understood what I was going through. After she dumped him, for pressuring her about sex, she sought me out.
The fact remains that you cannot tell if someone is going to be a rapist just by looking at them. If you could, the rape rate would be a lot lower. You just can't. It doesn't work that way.
And like I said in the last post, and will undoubtedly say again. I know that no one wants to admit that someone they like, respect and hang out with is a rapist or even could be a rapist. Hell, even after someone I knew admitted to rape in front of me, while denying it was rape, I didn't want to believe it. And I actually caught myself thinking for a second, "If she hadn't wanted it, why did she stay the night?" And this was with KNOWING that she was too drunk to drive home and that was the only reason she'd stayed there. She said no, and he didn't respect that. He got upset at her for crying afterward. And she'll never press charges, possibly because she blames herself for what happened, possibly because she knows her chances of getting any sort of justice are extremely nil. They'd dated, they'd had sex before...
And realize, that this is from a conversation with HIM. She never said a word to me or anyone I knew about this. Period. And he to this day does not believe there was anything wrong with what he did. Nope.
And part of this is not wanting to acknowledge that if he'll rape someone else, you're at risk, too, from someone you let into your home, who you have hugged, who you've maybe even made out with or had consensual sex with. You don't want to believe that this guy you trust would ever turn that trust against you or someone else. It's a sickening feeling and realization when someone you trust turns out not to be who you thought they were. It really is sick-making. It hurts a lot, and it's fucking scary when you realize, "I was alone with X so many times..." "If I had said no, would he have forced me anyway?"
One of the reasons getting into arguments with people about this, about the myth that women are running around higgledy-piggledy accusing men of rape without a care in the world, about the fact that sometimes otherwise decent people do amazingly shitty things if they think they can get away with it, or don't even consider those things to be shitty things, is that some of the hidden attitudes toward women that surface in these arguments frighten me. The idea that people I hang out with on a regular basis could think that the minute my ass sets one foot in their apartment/bedroom/car, I've committed to having sex with them should they decide they want it regardless of whether or not I want to, scares the holy fucking hell out of me, particularly when some of these guys might actually be able to take me in a fight. Or even if they themselves wouldn't do such a thing, that they would think it understandable or permissable for someone else to do that to me or any woman, it scares me.
Because underlying that is the reality that they really don't have my back. That someone could hurt me again, and they would blow it off because I was "asking for it." It's the fear that they really don't see me as a full human being who should be allowed to dictate who has access to her body.
And while in a lot of these cases, I strongly suspect that they would have my back, what is it that makes me different from those other women? Is it like my racist uncle who drops the N-bomb constantly but says, "I'm not racist, I have a black friend?"
I don't know. I just know that I worry, even if they do have my back now, what would it take for me to slip into that category with "other women" and lose that support.
He doesn't look like a rapist does he? He's smiling with his lovely wife. But he is. DNA evidence from multiple victims convicted this man as a serial rapist in England. The Thursday rapist, from 1998 until 2006 he attacked women ranging in age from 12 years old on up, there are no ages given for his adult victims. On the Thursdays that he was out assaulting other women, his wife thought he was tinkering on cars, and was grateful for a night to watch whatever she wanted on the television.
When I go back through my high school yearbooks, and see the picture of the guy who raped me, I am frequently struck by how very young and child-like he looks to me now. We were fifteen when he raped me, and he looked his age. He was also on the varsity football team, and had no shortage of girls to to choose from. In fact, after he raped then dumped me, he immediately took up with another girl, who managed to escape unscathed. I never told her he'd raped me, but he'd been asshole-ish enough to her without rape that she thought she understood what I was going through. After she dumped him, for pressuring her about sex, she sought me out.
The fact remains that you cannot tell if someone is going to be a rapist just by looking at them. If you could, the rape rate would be a lot lower. You just can't. It doesn't work that way.
And like I said in the last post, and will undoubtedly say again. I know that no one wants to admit that someone they like, respect and hang out with is a rapist or even could be a rapist. Hell, even after someone I knew admitted to rape in front of me, while denying it was rape, I didn't want to believe it. And I actually caught myself thinking for a second, "If she hadn't wanted it, why did she stay the night?" And this was with KNOWING that she was too drunk to drive home and that was the only reason she'd stayed there. She said no, and he didn't respect that. He got upset at her for crying afterward. And she'll never press charges, possibly because she blames herself for what happened, possibly because she knows her chances of getting any sort of justice are extremely nil. They'd dated, they'd had sex before...
And realize, that this is from a conversation with HIM. She never said a word to me or anyone I knew about this. Period. And he to this day does not believe there was anything wrong with what he did. Nope.
And part of this is not wanting to acknowledge that if he'll rape someone else, you're at risk, too, from someone you let into your home, who you have hugged, who you've maybe even made out with or had consensual sex with. You don't want to believe that this guy you trust would ever turn that trust against you or someone else. It's a sickening feeling and realization when someone you trust turns out not to be who you thought they were. It really is sick-making. It hurts a lot, and it's fucking scary when you realize, "I was alone with X so many times..." "If I had said no, would he have forced me anyway?"
One of the reasons getting into arguments with people about this, about the myth that women are running around higgledy-piggledy accusing men of rape without a care in the world, about the fact that sometimes otherwise decent people do amazingly shitty things if they think they can get away with it, or don't even consider those things to be shitty things, is that some of the hidden attitudes toward women that surface in these arguments frighten me. The idea that people I hang out with on a regular basis could think that the minute my ass sets one foot in their apartment/bedroom/car, I've committed to having sex with them should they decide they want it regardless of whether or not I want to, scares the holy fucking hell out of me, particularly when some of these guys might actually be able to take me in a fight. Or even if they themselves wouldn't do such a thing, that they would think it understandable or permissable for someone else to do that to me or any woman, it scares me.
Because underlying that is the reality that they really don't have my back. That someone could hurt me again, and they would blow it off because I was "asking for it." It's the fear that they really don't see me as a full human being who should be allowed to dictate who has access to her body.
And while in a lot of these cases, I strongly suspect that they would have my back, what is it that makes me different from those other women? Is it like my racist uncle who drops the N-bomb constantly but says, "I'm not racist, I have a black friend?"
I don't know. I just know that I worry, even if they do have my back now, what would it take for me to slip into that category with "other women" and lose that support.
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no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 12:07 am (UTC)I had a really close call when I was naieve and 14. Two brothers, and my friend and I were partying together, the older brother and my younger friend were talking, myself and younger borther didn't feel like part of the conversation. "Lets go to my room." Sure, Ok. It didn't even occur to me that he had any interest, I figured he was going to show me his artwork or something. He pushed me down on the bed, I was nervous, but not *freaked*. No, what are you doing? No...When I tried to get up and he pushed me down again, I said "Dude, NO." I pushed back, he tried to hit me, I blocked and backhanded him in the face. He had easily 70 pounds on me and was damn strong. I kicked him in the shins and headed for the door. when I got to the living room, my friend and his brother were sitting close, talking quietly. "I've gotta go." I said. My friend didn't even say anything to him and followed me out.
I wondered if he would call the cops or come after me with friends. He didn't. I ran into him a couple years later and got a glare, but that was it.
Thinking back, I suppose I could've reported him for even trying to go that far, but it never occurred to me. I was told he had a black eye-though I find it hard to believe I'd hit him that hard, I was physically unscathed, he wasn't going to try again.
If he had managed to go through with it, I think it would've been a LOT harder to report him and admit I was a victim than not, I don't know. Not even because no one would've believed me; he didn't have a lot of friends. First of all, we weren't supposed to be out, my folks would've locked me away the rest of my life, I don't like cops, and a court trial ...Just...yikes. I don't know.
If someone had pointed him out beforehand and said "He'll try to rape you." I would've thought they were nuts. Large but not tall soft-spoken friendly but socially inept 20-year-old native american. Apparently he was of the mind that women were 'something you mated with'. What kind of woman raises kids like that? Or is it learned later?
Glad I had that experience in a weird way, though; I think it kept me wary of future situations I might not have escaped from so easily.