Sunday, 15 August 2010

• The Thing About Rape

  
  
  The other day, I was watching some movie on the Indie channel.  I cannot remember for the life of me what it was called, but it was about a girl band that wanted to make it to the big time, found a manager and began to do it.  It was pretty old, I'm guessing, because not only was Julia Roberts looking younger than her "Pretty Woman" self, but she was a sideline role.
  
  Anyway, the movie sucked, but one scene caught my attention and has continued to recapture it on and off for the past couple of weeks at the most random times.    It featured young Julia - she was at a party, and this guy focused all of his attention on her throughout the entire event.  They were talking, laughing, and seemingly hitting it off when he decided it was time to take things inside. 
  
  Julia was naive, and didn't know what this implied.  She obligingly went with him, and was shocked when he closed the door to the room that they entered, and suddenly started to make out with her.  She went with this somewhat hesitantly, but when he pressed himself against her and started to put his hands up her dress she started to bat him away. 
  
  This went on for a while, and eventually she started yelling.  She said "What are you doing?!" to which he responded with the same question, and she yelled again - "I thought you LIKED me!".  "I do!" he said, "Which is why I want to make love to you!" (something along those lines) to which she said something like "Well I don't want you to, so stop! It's almost like you'd prefer I stopped moving so that you could just pound my body in peace!" 
  
  And every girl reading this knows how he replied already, but I'll put it in writing nonetheless: "I would." 
  
  Guess what she did?  She took a vase and cracked it over his head.
  
  Now, gentlemen viewers, be not afraid:  What is coming is far from being a rant about the male sex against the inherent vulnerability of their female counterparts.  I must preface Part II with the sheer fact that I am WELL aware that not all men are like the one described above, by any means whatsoever.  I recognize that most men reading this are probably thinking about what a dick guys like the described really are.  Please - read on.
  
  The reason that this scene has stuck so absurdly vividly in my mind - details as arbitrary as the furniture in the room they're in, the dress she's wearing, and especially the tones of both of their voices - is because of the intense repulsion that I felt upon acknowledging my own initial reaction to the scene.  It's even reflected in my above description.  It was not to the man's behavior in the slightest - he's a GUY, I thought to myself.  Of COURSE that's what he's after if he's taking you inside, you dumbass, why the HELL did you go with him?
  
  And my little internal rant didn't stop there.  It went on: Was a VASE cracked over his HEAD really necessary?  I mean, it seems a little extreme.
  
  This is when repulsion set in, because I remembered "the thing about rape."  I learned it in the one "Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies" course I ever took, and it is as follows: Rape is implanted into the heads of women as a controlling device from the time they are born.  It is a constant reminder of their lower position, of their vulnerability, and of their weakness.  That we as women are open holes to be guarded or invaded by men, and we are dependent upon the protection of the majority so that invasion by the bad minority can be prevented.
  
  And this was supported by various case studies and statistical facts, and these studies and facts led to a very important realization for me and most of the rest of my class - that generally, when a woman fights her rapist, she escapes.  That when she actively tries to get away, she usually does.
  
  But this escape is rare, because all of this psychodrama about "fight or flight" is a load of bullshit when it comes to something as socially internalized as rape.  There is a fear so deeply ingrained that there is usually no amount of adrenaline sufficient enough to supply a woman with a method to fight or fly. The fear simply paralyzes, and like our mentors Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, we lie there helplessly and wait for Prince Charming to rescue us. 
  
  Unfortunately, the only person who ever seems to have a "happy ending" is the rapist.
  
  I strongly believe this whole "thing."  I consider myself a strong woman.  I stick up for myself, and for what I believe in.  I defend the people that I love.  I have a clear idea of what I want, what's right, and what's wrong - and how these three "whats" tie together in any given situation.
  
  Nonetheless, I (with horror and an excruciatingly painful sense of regret) have come to accept the fact that I am no exception to the general rule.  That I, like most women, give in and give up rather than fighting or flying to my way to freedom when faced with the overwhelming power of a man with unrelenting sexual desires.
  
  Furthermore, that I expect everyone to do the same.  That I follow a social code that encourages women to oblige requests, to "lighten up and loosen up" or else stop dressing so goddamned provocatively.  To stop "asking for it" if they don't want it.  To stop "putting themselves in the wrong situations," or getting so absurdly drunk. 
  
  To make out with someone only with the reasonable expectation that more will be sought after, and that it is you who are to blame for being so uptight, selfish, or naive that you fail to live up to them by hitting someone over the head with a vase.
  
  I am a perpetuator of "the thing."  "The thing" that we know lurks in the woods on the way to Grandmother's house when we are young girls, and that we know lurks in the street corners on the way home from work.  I support and promote it.  I could not be more ashamed.
  
  I'd love to wrap this up with some kind of uplifting suggestion or solution, but the ability to do so would imply a smaller problem than there is.  We all perpetuate this problem, and we are all - men and women alike - so awfully affected by it.  To fix it would require not only a change in all of our various effective actions and behaviors (my apologies to those few true exceptions), but also a change in all of our patterns of regular thought. 
  
  This solutional task seems quite impossible to me, and mimics the problem itself by demanding nothing more than complete and utter defeat in response to what it poses.  With this sense of defeat looming over me, I can only think it appropriate to follow regular suit by ending with a request for help:
  
  How do we solve this problem?  How do we even start?
  

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