Its not often that I find myself crying in bed on a Sunday morning, though those of you that have known me well for a long time might find that hard to believe. Rarer still, rare to the point that I cannot remember a single other occasion, for those tears to have been invoked by a carelessly written piece of Sunday paper journalism touching the deepest, darkest secrets of my soul and invoking not only rage but a bitter sadness. This morning's reading has moved me to write about this for the first time ever, an experience from my youth that very few people know about but I think I need to share to explain the outrage I am feeling.
The Sunday paper piece in question discusses a recent case in which two young people, drunk and with the intention of not going home alone after a night out, did not go home alone together. They fooled around, both were too drunk, she removed herself from the situation, told her flatmate things had got weird and the next day she reported being raped to the police. The case went to court, she told the jury she had been OK with sex at first but then froze in bed; he was acquitted, and I make no comment on whether this is the right or wrong judgement, I certainly don't know enough about this particular case to pass comment.
Where the article kicked me in the gut was in the writer's response of "Bravo!" to a quote from Camille Paglia "...the majority of campus incidents being carelessly described are not felonious rape (involving force or drugs) but oafish hook-up melodramas, arising from mixed signals and imprudence on both sides" - to paraphrase, rape is only felonious if it involves force or drugs. This comment not only pushes blame for unwanted, non-consensual sex on to the non-consenting party (victim blaming of the worst kind) but frighteningly de-legitimises sexual assaults and rapes in which force or drugs were not used (hint... lots of them, including no doubt a vast majority of marital rape and assaults, and also mine).
In my early twenties I was living and working abroad, and went to a nightclub with a mixed group of friends probably no more than a mile from home. We drank, we danced, we flirted no doubt outrageously with many people; I remember it was the first time I met the man who later became my first real love. As the night went on people fell away and went home and by closing time I realised I was the last of my friends still there. I could quite easily have walked home, the way was lit, I could probably have been home in less than 15 minutes.
Instead, someone in a position of authority from the place I worked offered me a lift - he hadn't been drinking so he, his friend and I went in his car. He drove us to the beach, not home, and I didn't think anything of it, it was a warm night we were just going to hang out on the beach. He kissed me, I kissed him back. He put his hand into my underwear and I didn't stop him, it was harmless fun. His friend was on my other side and he started to put his hands on me and up my skirt. His touching me must have shaken me - I remember trying to stand up and get both of their hands off me, but it continued and I was powerless to stop them, though at no point was any kind of force or violence used. Eventually they must have stopped, I don't imagine the whole experience lasted more than ten minutes. I asked him to take me home, so we all got back in the car.
When we arrived at the place I lived, he told me not to tell anyone what had happened - he reminded me of his position, that he had family in the company, that his girlfriend worked there, that no-one would believe me and that he'd make sure I lost my job if I said anything. He told me his friend would stay the night with me, got in his car and left. His friend followed me home, I had no idea what to do so I told him firmly he would not be sleeping in my bed but in the living room, but I woke up to find him on top of me, naked, starting to have sex with me. I pushed him away, or rolled away and he didn't try again.
All of this happened without me being drugged, or either of them using any kind of excessive force. The comments from this mornings paper made me feel like the journalist was telling me what happened to me really was my fault, not theirs. That it was an "oafish hook-up melodrama, arising from mixed signals and imprudence on both sides". It wasn't, and isn't for hundreds, thousands of people with experiences like mine. No, not like mine - people with experiences of their own, for we cannot compare one person's experience of sexual assault or violation with another's, each is utterly personal and reprehensible in itself.
This all in light of recent comments from Judge Lindsey Kushner QC, that women who drink and behave in an uninhibited manner are putting themselves in danger of rape - basically that women should take responsibility for having left themselves in a vulnerable position, rather than that rapists should take responsibility for having raped.
I may have been stupid, drunk, uninhibited, but I was not to blame for being assaulted. I was ashamed, fearful that I'd lose my job, I saw both of them on a nearly daily basis for the rest of the year. I don't think I ever feared that they would do it again but I always felt dirty and embarrassed when I saw either of them and remembered what had happened. It wasn't until quite a few years later that I realised that it had been a sexual assault. Even then I was so conditioned to think it was my own fault for being drunk, English in another country, perhaps promiscuous on occasion; that it would be me that would lose out if I told anyone about it as I'd lose my job and the home it provided. I was more worried about being judged a slut, but I should have been making sure these men didn't get the opportunity to do this again to another unsuspecting young woman. I didn't report it, and I should have; I have seen him in years since and we have mutual friends and I still feel sick when I see his face at the thought of what he and his friend did. I have never once spoken to him about it.
Rape is not only rape if you are drugged or beaten, forced or tied down. You don't need to be screaming and pushing them away to be non-consenting, nor do you need to feel ashamed or responsible for the attack, whether or not you were able to fight them off, or if you didn't or couldn't physically stop it. The blame, the responsibility and most definitely the shame needs to lie with the perpetrators.
K x
No comments:
Post a Comment