Disclaimer: This post is from the perspective of a female with male attackers. It is important to acknowledge that men can also be the victims of sexual assault and women can be the aggressors.
We expel so much energy into telling people how to protect themselves from sexual assault or how to prevent it, but spend much less time telling people not to assault others. Why is the onus on us to constantly be on the defensive? Why can’t the standard just be that no one assaults anyone?
We are built to believe that rape is a misunderstanding. Or that consent was given through body language. We question the victim and try to tear down their story, but don’t place the same burden on the offender. All they have to prove is that there was confusion surrounding the issue of consent and the victim loses.
Rape is horribly unique because it takes sex, which is meant to be an enjoyable, intimate act, and flips the notion on its head. Most criminal trials are focused on proving whether the defendant is the one who committed the crime (murder, theft, etc.). With rape, juries first have to determine if a crime even occurred. That creates this feeling of powerlessness and hopelessness inside of a victim. Juries don’t question whether an individual wanted to be robbed or beaten, yet we are built to question whether a woman wanted to have sex and whether she made it clear if she didn’t. There is a constant cloud of doubt and judgement surrounding rape because the act of penetrating someone isn’t illegal – it is only illegal when there is no consent, no “permission”. With breaking & entering, there is a clear line — you can’t walk into a stranger’s house without an invitation or permission. Why should that be any different with sex? Why do we default to assuming the offender had permission?
Victim Blaming
Very few crimes rely as heavily on a confession as rape. It is also one of the few crimes in which people tend to question the integrity, credibility, and behavior of the victim, rather than focusing on the behavior of the offender and the offender’s intentions. When you’re the victim of a burglary, nobody says, “well your curtains were open and everyone can see your stuff, what did you expect? You left your door unlocked, so you were asking to be robbed”, but when you are raped, society asks, “what were you wearing? Did you flirt with him and lead him on? You must have indicated you were interested.” When I came forward (on the cruise), I found the need to defend myself, despite being the victim.
The Absence of Violence
There is this notion that rape is always violent or the victim kicked and screamed or repeatedly said “no”. That isn’t always the case. And the media’s sensationalized portrayal of only the most violent of cases can cause other victims to feel invalidated or to trivialize what happened to them. It can prevent people from coming forward for fear of not being believed or being called “dramatic”. Statistically, the vast majority of sexual assaults do NOT include a weapon.
My Experiences with Harassment
I don’t think men truly grasp what we go through as women. I’m not talking politically or professionally. I am speaking in terms of sexual harassment, sexual assault, and microaggressions that we are programmed to accept as just a standard part of life.
At age fourteen, a boy on my bus started texting me and asking for topless pics.
At fifteen, an older guy connected with me on MySpace and started grooming me (asking me how my day at school was and saying I could tell him anything, while simultaneously asking for pictures and offering to buy me a plane/train ticket to Boston to visit him).
At sixteen, I was digitally raped by a stranger on a flight overseas.
At eighteen, I was drugged and raped by a stranger on a cruise, just narrowly avoiding a gang rape. The following day, I was called a “slut” and a “dirty whore” (by his friends) for reporting the assault.
At nineteen, I started receiving unsolicited dick pics and dirty Facebook messages from strangers.
At twenty, I was riding a bus and a man stuck his hand up my dress. I was dancing in a club and a man grabbed my breast. My roommates and I were leaving dinner and a man started following us home. I was dancing at a bar and a man grabbed my crotch, then tried following me into the bathroom when I fled. These were all in a two-month span while studying abroad.
At twenty-three, I was working in the city and started encountering hecklers on the streets and on public transportation. There’d be an occasional whistle in my direction or a “hey baby” as I walked past. Sometimes a repeated “hey beautiful, how are you? Hey, hey I’m talking to you. I know you hear me, bitch”. One man flat out told me that if we were in a dark alley instead of on the subway, he’d attack me then leave me for dead.
At twenty-eight, I was assaulted on the train to work.
I know countless other women who have endured similar experiences. At a certain point, you start to normalize the harassment and assaults. Suddenly, being groped in a bar or club doesn’t even seem that bad. It is a sad testament to the society we live in.
What Needs to Change?
Bringing awareness to these issues is only step one. We need to create a society that allows women to tell their stories without fear of judgement, retaliation, or invalidation. No one’s experience should be trivialized. When we are silenced, we are left feeling ashamed of what has happened. We treat assault like a secret – a scarlet letter. No one should have to carry the burden of their past alone.
Talking Through Trauma 