Women

2002-10-11 - 5:35 a.m.

I didn't want to write another entry. I wanted to just bask in the fact that I a)made a banner all by myself (have I mentioned how I liked the letters-as-words thing?) and b) uploaded it so that it actually appears. (If it doesn't appear in the last entry, let me know, because it appears for me and I want everyone to bask in its splendiferousness.

And, here's the weird thing, it was so very, very very easy. Mucho thanks to the d-land instructions, though.

Anyway, I am writing another entry, because even with my wonderful new banner (I'll let you know if/when I submit it) I apparently still must produce thought-provoking entries. Man, I'm such an attention whore. And now for the real entry...

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In my first year of college, back when my group of high school friends was still coherent, an email list/petition was going around, asking that anyone who had been or knew someone who had been a woman and a victim of sexual assault, abuse, or rape to please sign below. By the time the list got to me several of my friends had signed it.

This surprised me, because it meant that -I- knew someone who had been assaulted and maybe raped. Now, I was aware of the statistics, and was intellectually aware that the odds were pretty good that I'd know someone, but I was also pretty naive, and a huge part of me assumed that it hadn't happened. Certainly to someone in my school, probably someone in my class, but definitely not someone I knew.

A part of my surprise stemmed from the fact that I had had no warning signs. In retrospect it makes perfect sense, but at the time I was a little hurt, a little confused...isn't this the sort of thing that I should know? I mean, these are my friends. -Who- was hurt in this way? Who hurt them? Can I do anything? Why didn't they tell me, why didn't anyone tell me?

Now, I think that me not knowing was a natural, even good, thing. Not that I might have reacted badly, but that I would have reacted. And because I'm male.

In a lot of ways, I'm the enemy. My presence is enough to be taken as a symbol, of oppression, of violence, of ignorance. I don't want to have this role, and I don't think I've ever done anything consciously to earn it, but it is deserved.

I think the statistic is something like 1 in 3 women have been abused, assaulted, or raped. A high percentage of that is by people they knew, at least casually. A high percentage of that never gets reported. Someone had to do all that abuse, and so for me to know so many women, and for so many of them to have been victims at one time or another means that I -also- know a large number of guys who, at one time or another, have abused.

There's no outward sign that someone's been violated. People are very adept at acting "normal," and if enough time passes they pass "very adept" and become perfect actors. The history is never erased, though, and for most women the guy who hurt them is still walking around, joking with his buddies, going out on dates, having learned nothing.

I was thinking about all this stuff just the other day, and was going to write it all down sooner, but I'm glad I waited. Tonight could have been "A Very Special Episode" of Survivor...

Last week, a woman on the island felt that she'd been the recipient of some very unwanted advances from a male tribe mate. There was conflict, and eventually she let the tribe know. This split the tribe pretty much down the middle, men vs women. And this week was the fall out.

Normally the show is fluff, it doesn't have all that much to show, all that much for me to learn from, but tonight I just saw how three different women dealt with sexual assault in their community, and how differently women can deal with victimhood. I also saw some guys acting like worse than idiots, because even if none of them has ever done anything like this, the three men are contributing to the environment, are actively making it easier for rapists to walk around with their heads held high.

Earlier tonight, my co-worker and I started talking about Buffy: the Vampire Slayer, and we got into a discussion about how last season there are at least 4 cases of either attempted or metaphorical "rape." I mentioned how I felt the subject had been treated too lightly, the word "rape" had been tossed about in the same way that people will use "Hitler" to make a comparison without having to think too much. If you want someone to be thought of as evil just say they're like Hitler, or say they're a rapist. You don't need to back it up, you don't need to do any work, because you've just thrown an emotional gut-punch.

But then I reminded myself...what do I know about rape? What do I know about how it should be portrayed, how it should be talked about? I've never been in a comparible position, it's unlikely that I'll ever be in one. Rape is something that is almost exclusively owned by women (or children...related but different matter). I -could- be sexually attacked or assaulted, sure, but for me it is way down on the list of things to worry about. For most men it barely even rates.

Since I first received that email petition I eventually learned that my mom had been sexually assaulted by our minister. She and other victims had tried to bring the law against him, but one by one the women dropped out. The only thing they managed to do was get him out of their church, and maybe make his wife wonder what sort of man she married. But he is still a United Church minister, he is likely still working at someone's church, and I see no reason why he wouldn't be doing the same thing again.

I'm not sure why I wanted to write all of this down, or what my point should be...maybe just to raise awareness, or to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, or maybe to tie all these pieces together for myself. I like that last one the best, because it reminds me that there are issues larger than globalisation or gun control or whatever, and that I am affected too.

One last piece: I was talking with Pookie about Survivor, about how the man accused was claiming he'd been half-asleep, that he thought the woman was his wife. It's such an obvious fiction, I thought, until Pookie reminded me of something.

Remember when I went to Ottawa? Remember my mention of how when I woke up the second day that a fellow protestor, female, gently told me that I'd been trying to spoon her in my sleep? Remember how embarassed I was?

I'm not embarassed anymore. I don't know what I am, but whatever it is embarassment is not a part of it. Embarassment would be better.

Cheers,

The Magus

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