A note before reading: I am very aware that this may seem one-sided and veers toward the notion that only females are raped. I am a woman though. This piece is written about my experience. Rape can happen to anyone and I think any awareness that might be raised is good progress. Thank you for taking the time to read a more deep style of my writing.
I’m so sick of people saying sexual violence can be prevented by wearing the right clothes, saying the right things, trusting the right people. It’s bullshit. This is 2016. Rape is real. And it’s scary. And it ruins little girls. It ruins boys and men and women. It breaks down a barrier of innocence placed on us by love and replaces it with a wall that many can’t seem to climb over.
It takes a good thing and haunts us like a ghost. Feeds off its victim’s happiness like a dementor and sucks out the fun of sex.
It doesn’t matter how much money you have or how cute you are. It can be a stranger but, sadly, it’s more likely to be someone you know. 82% of victims knew their rapist before their attack. So they can continue to haunt you both in real life and in your memories.
“Maybe, if you say you’re on your period, they’ll get grossed out and stop.”
Maybe, since they’re so messed up that they want to rape someone, they don’t care about a little added blood.
“Maybe they were just drunk, and so were you, so you don’t remember saying yes.”
Drunk actions are sober desires.
“You were wearing a short skirt that night… you were basically asking for it.”
Yeah, I’m a cheerleader too. Am I asking for it during a basketball game because my school issued uniform contains a short skirt?
“You chose to be in there, kissing each other. Wasn’t that an invite for sex?”
Being in a store isn’t an invite to shoplift now, is it?
See, the thing is, we try to give excuses. Even the victims bargain with their own mind and try to believe it wasn’t sexual assault or rape or whatever the hell you wanna call it. And that’s what society does to us. It can be a friend or a child or a husband or a wife… even a patient in a hospital. Or in a Chevy pickup on a back road late at night. You don’t know what goes on behind closed doors.
Rapists aren’t hiding in the bushes with a knife and duct tape. 84% of reported sexual assaults were committed only using physical force.
And we need to stop saying, “Oh, that couldn’t happen to me… I’m a man” or “I’m a bigger girl, I’m not a target.” I’m 5 foot 8. I’m 150 pounds. I’m the size of a lot of full-grown men these days. I lift weights. I can throw a good punch.
But that didn’t stop it from happening to me.
It didn’t stop the shock from taking over. My long sleeve crew neck shirt and jeans tucked into boots didn’t stop my body from being made into a toy. Just like a swimsuit or short skirt wouldn’t help someone make your body into a toy.
We are not playthings. We are humans with souls and hearts and feelings, but that never stops anyone.
So maybe, instead of changing our lives around and our styles to fit the societal norms, we should change outlooks on life and be more accepting of the fact that rape culture is real. And it shouldn’t be. And we need to stop it.
Parents need to teach kids that toys are colorful and made of plastic and that humans are souls who need to be loved and cherished. Because without love, we aren’t humans. We’re coffins housing ghosts. Just slaves of yesterday allowing the past to haunt us.
