This happened to me a few months ago at 8AM on a Sunday while I was reading and had both sunglasses and headphones on. I counted the times I implicitly (“I’d just like to read my book”) or explicitly (“please just leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you”) told him no, and I reached EIGHTEEN before I decided to jump on a train that wasn’t even mine to escape him because he kept trying to touch me even when I said very firmly ‘don’t touch me’.
See? It’s not always because we don’t say ‘no’ clearly enough - sometimes they just don’t want to hear it.
He followed me onto the train. He sat down next to me, kept trying to talk, and with a train full of people (mostly men) I told him loudly and firmly to ‘leave me alone’. He didn’t, no one said anything, no one looked up, in fact I’m pretty sure they were trying to look anywhere else. He asked why I was being such a bitch, why I wouldn’t agree to just go out for a drink, why I thought I was ‘pretty enough’ to just ignore him. Feeling close to hysterical I shouted at him “I’ve said ‘no’ about forty fucking times and you’re still forcing yourself on me - are you a rapist-in-training or just a massive cunt?”
He said I was crazy, that I was probably on my period, and got off at the next stop. No one asked me if I was okay, no one helped me, and the only people that looked at me were giving me those ‘why did you have to ruin my train journey with all that noise?’ looks.
Men who get upset with women who are ‘rude’ when you try to hit on them - THIS IS WHY.
i think from now on, everyone who persists past the first “no” is going to get one in the nose. i’m pretty sure they aren’t going to stop unless physically punished.
You know, a few months ago this dude friend of mine showed up to hang out with me all dejected. Over a couple of drinks he explained his long face — earlier that night, he’d been walking down the street behind this really cute girl, and when she looked back at him over her shoulder, he thought it was in interest and smiled at her. Now, this guy is tall and skinny, can most commonly be found in glasses and t-shirts scrawled across with math jokes, is kind to animals, considers himself a feminist. What he doesn’t consider himself is threatening, so he was surprised, confused, and even hurt by what happened next: the girl in front of him responding to his called greeting of, “Nice skirt,” by taking off down the darkened street in a dead run.
“Yeah,” I said, “she probably thought you were going to rape her.”
“But that’s not fair,” he said. “I’m a good person; I’d never rape anyone! How could she think that? She doesn’t even know me.”
Out here in the wilds of the internet, I often find myself making arguments about shit like feminism and rape culture unilaterally. For one thing, there’s so much (like, so much) out there arguing unilaterally against this shit that I feel it’s necessary; for another thing, ‘round these parts there’s a lot of people jumping to hostility when it’s painfully clear they don’t have a handle on all the facts. But I’m more lenient with the people in my real life, especially dudes like the one mentioned above. I’m willing to extend to them a patience that I wouldn’t with strangers on the internet, because they matter to me, and it matters to me that they understand. So when my friend sat there that night, whining over his beer and responding to my attempted explanations with, “But I’d love it if a girl smiled at me on the street, or even catcalled at me! Fuck, even if a dude did it, I’d be flattered,” I decided to spend some time thinking about how to clear things up for him. It took awhile, but I finally came up with a metaphor to get the job done:
Consider the bank.
This. This this this.
Also, this + legislative actions that curtail my human rights and demean my worth as a human being.
But you know, no biggie right? Just get over it!
Okay, so I’m seeing a lot of things floating around on my dash today, but what I’m especially seeing is fights about whether or not rape jokes are funny. And, of course, I’m seeing this story, about a comedian responding to the suggestion that rape jokes aren’t funny with the words “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by like, 5 guys right now? Like right now? What if a bunch of guys just raped her…” tangled up in the center of a lot of these discussions. And it occurs to me, with all this anger going around, that there are some things that maybe aren’t being said that, I think, need to be said. Am I saying the anger isn’t deserved? Of course not. Am I saying the anger doesn’t have it’s place, or doesn’t need to be acknowledged, respected, and heard? Of course not. Am I saying that I am, myself, not angry? No, I’m really not saying that at all. I’ve got a lot of anger in my heart about this topic, both in the abstract and in the upsettingly specific; however, I have had to learn to separate from that anger, because it makes it difficult to live my life.
So this is not an angry post; this is an explaining post. This is a post where we just talk. And what we’re going to talk about is what “rape jokes aren’t funny,” really means. Or, to put it another way: this is a post about why rape jokes aren’t funny.
rape culture means we are expected to figure out whether or not you’re just kidding about raping us
On a somewhat serious note today because of a conversation the other day:
I am sure every girl can recall, at least once as a child, coming home and telling their parents, uncle, aunt or grandparent about a boy who had pulled her hair, hit her, teased her, pushed her or committed some other playground crime. I will bet money that most of those, if not all, will tell you that they were told “Oh, that just means he likes you”. I never really thought much about it before having a daughter of my own. I find it appalling that this line of bullshit is still being fed to young children. Look, if you want to tell your child that being verbally and/or physically abused is an acceptable sign of affection, i urge you to rethink your parenting strategy. If you try and feed MY daughter that crap, you better bring protective gear because I am going to shower you with the brand of “affection” you are endorsing.
When the fuck was it decided that we should start teaching our daughters to accept being belittled, disrespected and abused as endearing treatment? And we have the audacity to wonder why women stay in abusive relationships? How did society become so oblivious to the fact that we were conditioning our daughters to endure abusive treatment, much less view it as romantic overtures? Is this where the phrase “hitting on girls” comes from? Well, here is a tip: Save the “it’s so cute when he gets hateful/physical with her because it means he loves her” asshattery for your own kids, not mine. While you’re at it, keep them away from my kids until you decide to teach them respect and boundaries.
My daughter is `10 years old and has come home on more than one occasion recounting an incident at school in which she was teased or harassed by a male classmate. There has been several times when someone that she was retelling the story to responded with the old, “that just means he likes you” line. Wrong. I want my daughter to know that being disrespected is NEVER acceptable. I want my daughter to know that if someone likes her and respects her, much less LOVES her, they don’t hurt her and they don’t put her down. I want my daughter to know that the boy called her ugly or pushed her or pulled her hair didn’t do it because he admires her, it is because he is a little asshole and assholes are an occurrence of society that will have to be dealt with for the rest of her life. I want my daughter to know how to deal with assholes she will encounter throughout her life. For now, I want my daughter to know that if someone is verbally harassing her, she should tell the teacher and if the teacher does nothing, she should tell me. If someone physically touches her, tell the teacher then, if it continues, to yell, “STOP TOUCHING/PUNCHING/PUSHING ME” in the middle of class or the hallway, then tell me. Last year, one little boy stole her silly bandz from her. He just grabbed her and yanked a handful of them off of her wrist. When I went to the school to address the incident, the teacher smiled and explained it away to her, in front of me, “he probably has a crush on you”. Okay, the boy walked up to my daughter, grabbed and held her by the arm and forcibly removed her bracelets from her as she struggled and you want to convince her that she should be flattered? Fuck off. I am going to punch you in the face but I hope you realize it is just my way of thanking you for the great advice you gave my daughter. If these same advice givers’ sons came home crying because another male classmate was pushing them, pulling their hair, hitting them or calling them names, I would bet dollars to donuts they would tell him to defend themselves and kick the kid’s ass, if necessary. They sure as shit wouldn’t say, “he probably just wants a play date”.
I will teach my daughter to accept nothing less than respect. Anyone who hurts her physically or emotionally doesn’t deserve her respect, friendship or love. I will teach my boys the same thing as well as the fact that hitting on girls doesn’t involve hitting girls. I can’t teach my daughter to respect herself if I am teaching her that no one else has to respect her. I can’t raise sons that respect women, if I teach them that bullying is a valid expression of affection.
The next time that someone offers up that little “secret” to my daughter, I am going to slap the person across the face and yell, “I LOVE YOU”.- You Didn’t Thank Me For Punching You in the Face « Views from the Couch (via verycunninglinguist)
Emily Maguire, Princesses & Pornstars: Sex, Power, Identity.
Ah, I’ve been looking for this quote. Love, love, love.
If we teach women that there are only certain ways they may acceptably behave, we should not be surprised when they behave in those ways.
And we should not be surprised when they behave these ways during attempted or completed rapes.
Women who are taught not to speak up too loudly or too forcefully or too adamantly or too demandingly are not going to shout “NO” at the top of their goddamn lungs just because some guy is getting uncomfortably close.
Women who are taught not to keep arguing are not going to keep saying “NO.”
Women who are taught that their needs and desires are not to be trusted, are fickle and wrong and are not to be interpreted by the woman herself, are not going to know how to argue with “but you liked kissing, I just thought…”
Women who are taught that physical confrontations make them look crazy will not start hitting, kicking, and screaming until it’s too late, if they do at all.
Women who are taught that a display of their emotional state will have them labeled hysterical and crazy (which is how their perception of events will be discounted) will not be willing to run from a room disheveled and screaming and crying.
Women who are taught that certain established boundaries are frowned upon as too rigid and unnecessary are going to find themselves in situations that move further faster before they realize that their first impression was right, and they are in a dangerous room with a dangerous person.
Women who are taught that refusing to flirt back results in an immediately hostile environment will continue to unwillingly and unhappily flirt with somebody who is invading their space and giving them creep alerts.
People wonder why women don’t “fight back,” but they don’t wonder about it when women back down in arguments, are interrupted, purposefully lower and modulate their voices to express less emotion, make obvious signals that they are uninterested in conversation or being in closer physical proximity and are ignored. They don’t wonder about all those daily social interactions in which women are quieter, ignored, or invisible, because those social interactions seem normal. They seem normal to women, and they seem normal to men, because we were all raised in the same cultural pond, drinking the same Kool-Aid.
And then, all of a sudden, when women are raped, all these natural and invisible social interactions become evidence that the woman wasn’t truly raped. Because she didn’t fight back, or yell loudly, or run, or kick, or punch. She let him into her room when it was obvious what he wanted. She flirted with him, she kissed him. She stopped saying no, after a while.-
Oh my god, this. All of this.
I will reblog this every time it crosses my dash. I’m always facing unbelievable amounts of nastiness from guys when I don’t flirt back, and sometimes it’s just like, fine, I don’t have the energy to deal with your little insecurity tantrum, here’s a fake smile, go fuck yourself. And this is happening to all of us, all the time. And then people call us on our insincerity.