Consent: For the Rape Apologists

It's time for this country to create a conversation about a bizarrely controversial topic.

I'm talking about consent.

For whatever reason, we're still stuck in this backwards culture of victim-blaming. Then, when I have the “gall” to point out how fucked up victim-blaming is, rape apologists proceed to act offended.

But in this series on consent, I will do my very best to give my readers the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes very legitimate questions about consent are asked. Because we don't talk about it, consent can be confusing.

As is almost always the case in my blog, I will use examples from my own life of when I have given or received consent in sexual activities.

Before I proceed, let me anticipate a few possible reactions by rape apologists. I don't mean to ruffle any feathers, but these are reactions I've heard in similar conversations with my friends, some of whom read this blog. Reactions that are inappropriate and piss me off.

What about teh menz?!

This comes up in two ways, neither of which are appropriate for this conversation.

“What about false accusations?”

Seriously, this comes up Every. Single. Fucking. Time. I discuss rape with Any. Male. Ever.

I'm going to skip the sensitivity I usually use when responding to this. I get it. Being falsely accused of rape is wrong. It ruins men's lives. I know this already. But how about y'all get over your fear of being falsely accused of rape (which, by the way, is statistically a very low likelihood) long enough to try and sympathize with rape victims? Actually, it would be really great if y'all could shut up about false accusations long enough to realize that the women in your life are much more likely to be victims of sexual assault, attempted rape, or rape than you are ever likely to be falsely accused. I'm just sick and tired of every conversation I have with a man about rape or sexual assault sidetracking into false accusations.

“Men can be victims too. Women can be rapists too.”

No fucking duh. I've never heard that one before. Thank you so much for enlightening me. Oh, God, I've been so insensitive. I've been sexually assaulted four times since I was 12, all by men, and who knows how many times men have sexually harassed since I lost count by my 17^th birthday, but you're right. Let's curtail this entire discussion of how to teach men not to rape so we can focus on the problem that's in the minority, a problem that none of us have personally experienced, while ignoring the one that has already damaged ME, one of my sorority sisters, and God only knows how many of my girlfriends.

I'm not trying to diminish the plight of male victims. I know that it's even harder for them to come forward because there's an even greater stigma attached to it. But. The majority of male victims are children or in prison. A conversation about consent and teaching men not to rape isn't going to help those victims. Child molesters are evil, sick people. Preventing them from hurting children requires completely different tactics than eradicating rape culture. Prison rape is part of prison violence, which, again, requires a different strategy.

Conversations I've had in-person with my friends, and this blog post, are not about trying to prevent every single horrible thing from ever happening. They're about changes we can make in our lives. Responding with “What about teh menz?” does not help.

Victim-blaming.

This primarily happens in two different ways.

“You wear sexy clothes to attract men. You can't get mad when they give you unwanted attention.”

This is problematic for a few reasons.

One, I have big boobs that are almost impossible to hide. I get attention no matter what I wear. It shouldn't be my responsibility to avoid sexual harassment/assault or rape.

Two, there is a huge difference between a guy checking me out and a guy leering at me; between a guy starting a conversation with me and a guy making a comment about my body; between a guy kissing me on the dance floor after several songs and a guy grabbing my ass or tits the second we start dancing.

Three, I often choose to wear sexy clothes for the benefit of a very specific man. (Currently, the boyfriend, but even before we started dating, I usually had a few potential guys in mind). I realize I'm opening myself up to the attention of other men. I don't get upset when a guy hits on me; I get upset when he won't leave me alone.

“Girls should take certain precautions to avoid getting raped.”

For whatever reason, when people hear the word “rape,” they think of some crazy guy cornering a silly naïve girl in a dark alley.

But ever heard of acquaintance rape? When the victim knows the rapist?

Yeah, that's the majority of rape cases.

So what sort of precautions should I take? Stop wearing provocative clothing? Except, oh, wait. When the guy on the metro grabbed my ass, I was wearing a knee-length, heavy winter coat. Huh.

Oh, I know! I shouldn't go out at night! Except, remember that guy who forced me to kiss him in broad daylight?

Hmm.

Never leave home! Stay in my house. I'm definitely safe there. Except, damn it. I was 12 the first time a boy violated my body, and I was in the kitchen of my own home.

Join a convent? Because, you know, the Catholic Church doesn't have any sexual scandal attached to it.

How about we stop telling girls “Don't get raped,” and we start telling guys “Don't rape”?

Victim-blaming your own daughter, via postsecret.com

Edit 01/31/2013: This has gotten long, so I'm going to break this post into two four parts. The next one will focus on what consent looks like, and how it's worked in my own life. The next one will be examples of how consent has looked in my own life. The third will probably be how to obtain consent and why it's so important to err on the side of caution. The fourth will be an overview of everything else important about consent.

And, yes, it will probably take me a few months to do all this because I have two jobs, and writing ain't one of them.

Edit 04/11/2013: My second post on consent is up! But it's not about how consent has looked in my own life. Instead, I define consent in as many ways as possible. 

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