The human race is a downright baffling one. In the last week, I became engaged in a very furious debate about something that should not have the word “culture” tacked onto the end of it: Rape culture. However, debate is not quite the right word for it, as debate implies that the response from the other party was both intelligent and civilized. The response I received was neither of those things. While trying to explain exactly what rape culture was, and why it was unacceptable, I was met with a barrage of rebuttals that often ignored everything I had just said in order to try and shut me down and discourage me from replying. As someone else who had joined my side put it, it sounded like this person was just mad that they were not allowed to make rape jokes without being called on it.
Now what exactly constitutes rape culture? It is a number of things, from the way that a woman receives unwanted “compliments” on the street because of what she’s wearing and thinking that’s normal, to blaming a victim for ruining their rapist’s “promising future.” Rape culture is a rapist getting a sentence not fit for his crime, but being released in half that time. It’s a catchy song getting by and rising in the ranks of popularity despite the video and the lyrics being creepy and objectifying. It is an absolute stranger following my little sister around and making comments to his friends about how “he couldn’t hold back anymore” when she bent over to look at something in a store. It is dangerous, it is ugly, and more often than not, it is swept under the rug by those who benefit from it.
When a young woman starts college, the first things she should be buying is books, or decorations for her room, but the first thing my parents gave me was a can of pepper spray, a folding knife whose blade is as long as the width of my palm, and a rape whistle. Yes, you read that correctly. My parents bought me a rape whistle. The purchase seemed silly, unnecessary even. However, I cannot even begin to recount the number of times that I walked from late night labs or across the bridge with my knife tucked up one sleeve of my jacket, and my pepper spray tucked up the other. I cannot even begin to recount the number of times that I made sure every window and door in my apartment was locked, that the crash bar to the sliding door was down, that there was no one lurking in the boiler closet. I still sleep with my knife and my pepper spray near my bed because my fear does not come without anger and outrage.
The person I had been “debating” with about rape culture said that we should not believe victims just because they say they are victims. However, he put it more as, “I have to see it to believe it.” If he didn’t see it for himself, then he did not believe it happened. That in itself, to me, was absolutely infuriating because that is the kind of stance that many people take. That’s victim blaming, and it’s probably one of the worst parts of rape culture as a whole.
I cannot even begin to relay to you all of my frustrations with this “culture” through one article, as they are much too great. I hope by the time that I have children, the person I argued with is either dead or has changed his ways, and I very much hope that he does not have children of his own. We as a generation need to continue challenging and breaking down the various toxic “cultures” that exist in our world today so that, one day, we will be able to once again walk down the street at night without fear.
