The other night I went out clubbing with some of the girls from my pole dance studio, and I had an interesting revelation. Walking through Farragut North, a relatively safe area of DC—well-lit, with lots of people around—I realized that I felt incredibly vulnerable. In my high heels and fancy club-wear (albeit fairly modest by the standards of those around me), I felt unnaturally like a target. Moreover, I felt that I lacked the ability to defend myself.
Rape culture
Perhaps in this regard I am actually luckier than most. I walk through dangerous neighborhoods as a matter of course for my work, sometimes quite obviously lost, and have never feared for my safety. I have been able to trust in my wits, my strength, and the goodness inherent in people around me to keep me safe. For many women, the vulnerability I felt walking around in my high-heels is a daily occurrence. They dread catcalls and leering strangers, men in large groups, and unfamiliar streets. They feel unsure of their ability to fend off the manifestations of rape culture which surround them.
I’ve written about rape culture before: the behaviors and attitudes that perpetuate a society in which rape, harassment, and belittlement of women (and non-cisgendered people) exist and thrive.
In many cases, rape culture’s most insidious aspect is how it is insulated by people who have become accustomed to its effects. Cliff at The Pervocracy writes excellently on this phenomenon, which she calls “The Missing Stair:”
Have you ever been in a house that had something just egregiously wrong with it? Something massively unsafe and uncomfortable and against code, but everyone in the house had been there a long time and was used to it? ”Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you, there’s a missing step on the unlit staircase with no railings. But it’s okay because we all just remember to jump over it.”
Some people are like that missing stair….
Again
Everyone who says “I don’t want to be a victim-blamer, but girls should know frat parties aren’t safe places” is treating rape culture like a missing stair. Everyone who says “it’s an ugly fact, but only women who don’t make trouble make it in this business” is treating sexual harassment like a missing stair. Everyone who says “I don’t like it either, but that’s the way things are,” and makes no move to question the way things are, is jumping over a missing stair somewhere.
http://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2012/06/missing-stair.html
In this way, the missing stair (ie: rape culture) is not the only problem. The people who continually ignore or apologize for rape culture begin to perpetuate, and in some instances worsen the problem. And it usually takes drastic measures to shake that kind of apathy. If someone fails to jump over the missing stair, falls and breaks zir ankle, zir friends will suddenly be up in arms and protesting that the stair must be fixed. Similarly, people who know family or friends who have suffered sexual assault at its most violent are quick to take up the cause and fight for justice.
But those that just barely graze the edge? Whose feet are beginning to slip, but caught their balance at just the last moment? Who endure catcalls and uncomfortable advances in bars? Whose breasts are grazed in the subway, but convince themselves that it was just an accident? Those people don’t often recognize rape culture. They don’t fight the injustices that they deal with bodily on a daily basis.
Instead they have set ups like the safe call. A safecall is an arrangement that you make to check in with a trustworthy person when you’re meeting with an acquaintance or someone new with whom you haven’t yet developed trust. Your trustworthy person should know where you’re going to be (specific addresses), who you’re going to be with (real names), and what time(s) you will be checking in. If you don’t check in, they’ll assume something has gone wrong and will contact the local authorities.
I don’t want to dissect the safe call here, because I think it is an incredibly valuable tool to protect yourself in potentially dangerous situations
(and I urge all of you to read this article). However, I think it’s poignant that such a practice is both necessary and widely practiced as a way of ensuring an individual’s safety. It brings to light the extent to which many individuals acknowledge the bodily dangers of rape culture (and the necessity of precaution), without examining the structures which make these situations dangerous.
Thus, I return to Friday night, walking to the club in Farragut North. I felt at once absurd and humbled by my realization of vulnerability. I felt vulnerable because I was dressed up, drawing attention to myself, and I was hobbled by heals. Why did I feel like a target because of this? Did I expect sexual assault from these behaviors? The answers aren’t so simple, but it made me realize how frightening it must be for people who feel vulnerable like this all the time. It reminded me that there is so much work to be done in dismantling rape culture, and that I have not even begun to scratch the surface.
It seems to me like we can replace “rape” with “murder” or “armed robbery” and (at least in the context of this discussion) many of the same ideas seem to apply.
If I’m out at night, I’ll try to avoid sketchy areas or sketchy-seeming people. I’ll also try to avoid drawing attention to myself by not making eye contact or yelling loudly. Sometimes I’ll let someone (probably Michelle) know where I’m going or stay on the phone with them until I’m home. If I’m robbed, I doubt anyone will tell me I was asking for it, but they might tell me I shouldn’t have been out in that sketchy area alone at night.
In my experience, I was taught that killing/robbing people is bad just as much as I was taught how to avoid being killed/robbed. From what I can remember, though, most of those lessons were taught when I was a lot younger. Perhaps a big difference is that “don’t rape people” is a lot harder to explain to a kid than “don’t kill people” is? This could be a major issue if rape culture actually comes from morals we learn as children.
Of course, there are plenty of differences. For example, I never worry about being robbed by people I know – only people I don’t know.
(Sorry about the typos – I should really re-read before posting.)
We have to call people out on it, but that’s easier said than done. Most people just don’t want the confrontation it would bring. There’s a comment on your fb from someone about how if she had been holding hands with that guy then she would’ve stopped and explained that he was wrong.
That’s not enough. If you heard someone say something that’s wrong, an opinion that’s so egregiously incorrect and hateful it needs to be addressed, then you should address it (which is why I never understood date-rape when there were witnesses around. Surely there was one person in that group who could’ve said, “Oh, wait, didn’t you know? Raping someone who is not conscious enough to give consent is wrong.”)
Yes, it’s difficult. I had a disagreement with my mentor teacher and another veteran teacher after school where I was in a decidedly inferior position about a girl who dressed a certain way and probably played some part in her victimization.
I once stuck my head in a car (stopped traffic) to confront someone who’d sexually harrassed me.
Yes, at the time, these can be confusing and even terrifying situations, but they need to be addressed. Knowing that something is wrong gives a person the inherent responsibility to do something about it. There are times when I haven’t followed through on this, and every time I do not I feel horrible. Every time I address the situation in an open and upfront manner, I lack that regret. I wouldn’t say that I always feel ‘good.’ You usually don’t feel good when you’re confronting that kind of crap, but it’s better than copping out.
As for wearing heels, I tend not to wear them. They’re just uncomfortable. I do find myself putting my keys in between my knuckles if I’m out late at night (alone or with others). I also go through my head to prepare myself what to do if a situation gets physical, and I find myself very aware of my surroundings. Finally, when I feel I’m being just a bit more paranoid than I might need to be, I remind myself of the statistics: Men are statistically more likely to be victims of violent crime; the vast majority of rape victims were not raped by random attackers, but in fact knew their victims, often intimately.
That, of course, brings us back full circle to the beginning, where we must address that this is part of a culture in which women are forced to live, and they consistently have this fear that you realized, without having a tangible reason for it. It is not only that we need to address these crimes and demand their cessation, but we need to address the very ideas that are the fabric of our society.
tl;dr: rape is bad, and so is blaming the victim. If you know someone is saying/doing something wrong, deal with it LIKE AN ADULT and don’t let them get away with it.