I had been intending to write a post about rape for a few
weeks—ever since That
Scene in Game of Thrones. Like everybody else, I have a lot of
opinions on the subject of rape, rape culture, and its place in art and
entertainment. The shootings in Isla
Vista and the subsequent #YesAllWomen movement brought the subject to the fore
for me again.
And then this happened:
I went to a poetry reading this evening, where I read a piece
about domestic violence. It sparked a
discussion about Isla Vista and violence against women in general. The majority of the writers in attendance were
white, male, and over the age of 45.
They immediately took offense at the idea that all men are rapists. (No one said they were.) They certainly don’t condone rape, and they don’t
know any men who do. In fact, it's a man's job to defend women. They insisted that
the number of rapes is going down every year, that there is no rape culture. One of
them said that I, as a woman, couldn’t understand the
urgency of the male sex drive. “Men need
women,” he said. “We need you. When sailors come back from leave, what’s the
first thing they want to do? They want
to get laid. If a man can’t get laid,
it affects his mind.”
“Please,” another one grumbled, “Can’t we talk about
something else?”
I don’t know what I found more troubling—the fact that these
guys basically made my point for me, the fact that they were in such a hurry
for me to shut up, or the fact that the other women in the room hardly uttered
a word during the discussion.
So since this piece began with Game of Thrones, let’s
just get that out of the way first, shall we?
I’ve read all the Song
of Ice and Fire novels. I frequent a
lot of TV forums. I read all of the TV
recaps I can get my hands on, and, subsequently, peruse the comment
sections. A lot of people are decrying
the quantity of rape and torture depicted in the show. They complain that it’s not necessary to the
plot, and that it’s “too hard to watch.”
To which I say, GOOD.
I think the minute rape and torture become easy to watch, then, my friends, we have
a problem. In the meantime, I think that
we, as a culture, deserve to have our nose rubbed in all of the horrible shit
we do. (Note: I say we. Me, you, man, woman,
gay, straight-- we’re all in this together.)
I think art is the perfect medium for it. And yes, I get that most of you watch Game of Thrones to be entertained. But there’s a fine line between art and
entertainment, and the best books, TV shows and films should blur it early and
often. Entertainment that makes you
think is art. I’ve said it before, and I’m
sure I will say again—art gives us a safe zone in which to explore
uncomfortable ideas.
As for whether rape and torture are necessary to the plot—well,
George R.R. Martin has said specifically that he wanted to write about the
human cost of war. By which he means the
cost paid not just by soldiers, or, in his case, armored knights, but by the
common people. So he has given us
Westeros, a quasi-medieval setting, which has been experiencing massive
political and social upheaval for over fifty years. It’s a world without mass communication, mass
transit, or any sort of organized system of law enforcement. I would find it sort of remarkable if rape,
torture, and general mayhem weren’t happening. But then, maybe I’m just Hobbesian that
way.
My question is, if we can’t explore rape and torture and its
consequences in a fantasy world, then where can we? I don’t think we can question anymore whether
it’s necessary to explore such
subjects. In a world where Sarah Palin can
make waterboarding jokes; where over
237,000 people are sexually assaulted annually in the U.S. alone; where,
more often than not, the first question asked when a rape is reported is, “What
was she wearing?” we need to start having these conversations.
I wrote Under Julia, a
novel about sex offenders, all of whom are male. (Women can be sex offenders, too. The U.S. Justice Department estimates that
around 8% of sexual abuse crimes are committed by women, though, as with all
other crimes regarding sexual abuse, that number is probably low due to lack of
reporting.) I co-authored Where Flap the Tatters of the King, a
sci-fi/fantasy about a viciously patriarchal culture. I mention these two works because I like to
think that I have spent a lot of time researching, thinking about, and writing
about gender politics, sexual violence, and the societies that inform their
dynamics.
Where Flap the Tatters
of the King depicts a world called Corbenic where women are regarded as
property, and, as such, have no rights-- they are denied education, have no
voice in government or legal matters, and I suppose it goes without saying that
they have no reproductive rights. Most
importantly, it is a culture in which rape is not considered a crime. If a woman is taken against her will, she has
obviously done something to put herself in that situation. One of the characters remarks on how brutality begets brutality, "Rape and the whip go hand in hand."
In the course of writing this book, my co-author and I would
frequently pause and ask ourselves, “Is it too extreme? Is it too unbelievable?” And then we’d turn on the news and hear about
the Steubenville rape case. Or about the
gang rape of a minor in India. Or Todd
Akin would open his mouth.
And we’d look at each other and go, “Nah.”
Which brings me to the Isla Vista tragedy. Yes, I get that there are mental health
issues that fed into Elliot Rodger’s rampage. Yes, I get that he murdered four men and “only”
two women. Yes, I get that, by talking
about Rodger and his manifesto, we are adding fuel to the potential copycat
fire. But, unfortunately, the only way
to prevent such things from happening again is to talk about it. We need to understand the psychological and
social underpinnings that have sparked so much hate.
This is a huge conversation that encompasses a lot of
sub-issues—lots of uncomfortable topics.
Rape is only the tip of the iceberg.
Sex, body image issues, inequality in the workplace and in education, human
trafficking, female genital mutilation, pedophilia, rape fantasies, prostitution—the list
just goes on and on. These are subjects
that, even in these TMI times, seem to go seriously unaddressed.
I would strongly encourage anyone who uses Twitter to peruse
the #YesAllWomen posts. Thousands of people
who have tweeted that hashtag have shared some incredible stories and insights. And some are . . . well, not so
incredible.
Here are a few of the naysayers I’ve seen pop up on Twitter
(and not just from men):
“You’re just a bunch
of man-haters.”
I can’t speak for all women on this, but I love men. I’m married to one, my best friend and co-author
is one, my brother is one, Robert Downey, Jr. is one. But this isn’t really a love/hate issue, it’s
an I-want-you-to-acknowledge-my-basic-humanity issue.
“It’s not all men.”
Of course it isn’t.
But when somewhere around 92% of sexual abuse is perpetrated by men, it’s
hard not to be wary. One of the issues I
really wanted to raise with Under Julia is
the fact that rape and sexual violence is everywhere and can take on a variety of forms. It occurs in every strata of society, regardless
of color, creed, ethnicity, socio-economic status, sexual orientation, or
education level. A rapist is more likely
to be a friend, acquaintance or relative, but it can still be a stranger hiding
in the bushes.
Also? When pretty
much every man I’ve ever met, including my 5’5”, buck-twenty-five husband with
an autoimmune disorder and only one functioning kidney, is stronger than me, it’s
hard not to feel vulnerable.
“Well, women aren’t saints. You treat men pretty badly, too.”
Too true. But that
doesn’t mean men get to answer bitchiness with violence. And if women are being violent with you, you
know what to do—get as far away from her as you can and call the police on her
crazy ass. And if you’re afraid that
that will make you somehow less of a man—well, that’s the problem with misogyny. It’s a sword that cuts both ways, creating
toxic images of both femininity and masculinity. But, I mean, is it somehow more manly to
knock out a woman who’s probably half your size and can’t open a ketchup bottle
on her own? Think about that for a
second.
“Men can be victims
of sexual assault, too.”
Also true. And, like
female rape victims, men are usually blamed for the attack, though for slightly
different reasons. There’s that pesky
patriarchy problem again. Women are
blamed for their rapes because they’re “slutty,” men are blamed for their rapes
because, “c’mon, don’t guys always want it?”
If the male victims aren’t blamed for their attacks, they are dismissed
outright . . . again, kind of like women.
And of course, men are frequently raped or assaulted by other men, which
is somehow worse because it means you are treated the way we’re treated. In our world, it’s sort of the ultimate
insult to a man, isn’t it, to be treated like a woman? Are you sensing a pattern here?
“Your paranoia is
killing you.”
That word? I don’t
think it means what you think it means.
Paranoia implies irrationality and illusion. See what I said above about every man I’ve
ever met being stronger than me. Also,
it’s hard to call it paranoia when literally every woman I’ve ever met has been
pressured, harassed, shamed, stalked, coerced, abused, and/or attacked in some way. Multiple times.
“You’re blaming men
for all of your problems.”
Not all of them. Mostly
just the ones where you rape us and beat us up.
While I believe that we are living in a patriarchal society, I also
think we’re all responsible for its perpetuation. If everyone could agree to recognize it, do away
with it, and move on, I think we’d all be a lot happier and healthier.
“I’m not a
feminist. Don’t you dare speak for me!”
Okay. Then do me a
favor. Get in a time machine and go back
to 1900. Be sure to check any education
or personal liberties you may have made use of at the door. Lace yourself into a corset, bind your feet, or
do whatever it is you need to do to feel like a possession, because that’s what
you’ll be. And maybe you’re more
comfortable in that role, I don’t know. Just
be sure you’re not confusing, “I like to have men open the door for me,” with “I
like being a man’s property.”
Because if you don’t consider yourself a feminist, then you’re
telling me that you have no use for the right to an education, to have a voice
in government, to testify on your own behalf, to own property, to receive equal pay for equal
work, to have sex with whomever you wish, to use birth control, or to wear skirts
above the ankle. Drop me a postcard
when you get there. I hear the latest
treatment for hysteria is quite stimulating.
