Letters to Predators

So often we try to make other people feel better by minimizing their pain, by telling them that it will get better (which it will) or that there are worse things in the world (which there are). But that’s not what I actually needed. What I actually needed was for someone to tell me that it hurt because it mattered. I have found this very useful to think about over the years, and I find that it is a lot easier and more bearable to be sad when you aren’t constantly berating yourself for being sad.

A victim lives in fear. A Survivor endures. A victim is powerless, paying for what was not her doing. A Survivor has grown strong because she knows the price is not hers to pay, the sin is not hers to atone.

[TW Rape]

[TW Rape]

[TW Rape]

[TW Rape]

Rape culture is when I was six, and my brother punched my two front teeth out. Instead of reprimanding him, my mother said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?” When my only defense was my mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him. Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.” As if it was my sole purpose, the reason six-year-old me existed, was to not rile up my brother. It’s starts when we’re six, and ends when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to not “rile him up.” Right, mom? Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation, my father says that women who get raped are asking for it. He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City, with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.” When I used to be my father’s hero but will he think I was asking for it? (will he think) Will he think I deserved it? Will he hold me accountable or will he hold me, even though the touch of a man - especially my father’s - burns as if I were holding the sun in the palm of my hand. Rape culture is you were so ashamed, you thought it would be easier for your parents to find you dead, than to say, “Hey mom and dad,” It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it. I never asked for this attention, I never asked to be a target, to be weak because I was born with two X chromosomes, to walk in fear, to always look behind me, in front of me, next to me, I never asked to be the prey. I never wanted to spend my life being something someone feasts upon, a meal for the eternally starved. I do not want to hear about the way I taste anymore. I will not let you eat me alive. Rape culture is I shouldn’t defend my friend when an overaggressive frat boy has his hand on her ass, because standing up for her body “makes me a target.” Women are afraid to speak up, because they fear their own lives - but I’d rather take the hit than live in a culture of silence. I am told that I will always be the victim, pre-determined by the DNA in my weaker, softer body. I have birthing hips, not a fighter’s stance. I am genetically pre-dispositioned to lose every time. Rape culture is he was probably abused as a child. When he even has some form of a justification and all I have are the things that provoked him, and the scars from his touch are woven of the darkest and toughest strings, underneath the layer of my skin. Rape culture leaves me finding pieces of him left inside of me. A bone of his elbow. The cap of his knee. There is something so daunting in the way that I know it will take me years to methodically extract him from my body. And that twinge I will get sometimes in my arm fifteen years later? Proof of the past. Like a tattoo I didn’t ask for. Somehow I am permanently inked. Rape culture is you can’t wear that outfit anymore without feeling dirty, without feeling like you somehow earned it. You will feel like you are walking on knives, every time you wear the shoes you smashed his nose in with. Imaginary blood on the bottom of your heels, thinking, maybe this will heal me. Those shoes are your freedom, But the remains of a life long fight. You will always carry your heart, your passion, your absolute will to live, but also the shame and the guilt and the pain. I saved myself but I still feel like I’m walking on knives. Rape culture is “Stefanie, you weren’t really raped, you were one of the lucky ones.” Because my body wasn’t penetrated by a penis, but fingers instead, that I should feel lucky. I should get on my hands and knees and say, thank you. Thank you for being so kind. Rape culture is “things could have been worse.” “It’s been a month, Stefanie. Get out of bed.” “You’ll have to get over this eventually.” “Don’t let it ruin your life.” Rape culture is he told you that after he touched you, no one would ever want you again. And you believed him. Rape culture is telling your daughters not to get raped, instead of teaching your sons how to treat all women. That sex is not a right. You are not entitled to this. The worst possible thing you can call a woman is a slut, a whore, a bitch. The worst possible thing you can call a man is a bitch, a pussy, a girl. The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl. The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl. Being a woman is the ultimate rejection, the ultimate dismissal of strength and power, the absolute insult. When I have a daughter, I will tell her that she is not an insult. When I have a daughter, she will know how to fight. I will look at her like the sun when she comes home with anger in her fists. Because we are human beings and we do not always have to take what we are given. They all tell her not to fight fire with fire, but that is only because they are afraid of her flames. I will teach her the value of the word “no” so that when she hears it, she will not question it. My daughter, Don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love you have for yourself and the lengths you go to preserve it. My daughter, I am alive because of the fierce love I have for myself, and because my father taught me to protect that. He taught me that sometimes, I have to do my own bit of saving, pick myself off the ground and wipe the dirt off my face, because at the end of the day, there is only me. I am alive because my mother taught me to love myself. She taught me that I am an enigma - a mystery, a paradox, an unfinished masterpiece and I must love myself enough to see how I turn out. I am alive because even beaten, voiceless, and back against the wall, I knew there was an ounce of me worth fighting for. And for that, I thank my parents. Instead of teaching my daughter to cover herself up, I will show her how to be exposed. Because no is not “convince me”. No is not “I want it”. You call me, “Little lady, pretty girl, beautiful woman.” But I am not any of these things for you. I am exploding light, my daughter will be exploding light, and you, better cover your eyes.

[TW: Rape] That’s at the core of a lot of this, the idea that if we make rape of unconscious people a crime, then there’s no “consequences” to girls drinking a lot/being “slutty"/etc… Rape as corrective tool is at the heart of a lot of rape culture attitudes, including that prisoners deserve to be raped, rape to punish/fix queer people (“rape you straight”, etc), rape as a tool of torture, rape as part of “hazing,” and that women who are “bad” (sex workers, “slutty,” drink a lot, wear few clothes, etc.) deserve “consequences” for their behavior. Behind a lot of rape apologia is the undercurrent of “but if we stop this, how will these people get punished for acting against how I think they should?” Part of the refusal to focus the responsibility and agency of committing the crime on the rapists (“what do you expect would happen?” as if the rapists are like a force of nature) is that these people DO think she deserved to be punished for her behaviour that they disapprove of, and they LIKE the idea that there are other people who will punish her for it. They WANT rape to be something that “just happens” to you if you’re bad, or go to jail, or whatever, rather than focusing on who does it, because if you do the latter, you might stop it, and if you stop it, then there’s no punishment… Rape apologists believe that women acting a certain way is something that should be “corrected.” They just don’t want to be the ones to do it, but it’s useful to them if others “fix” the problem for them. So, it’s useful to them if homophobes believe that killing somebody is self defense because of “gay panic,” or men believe that raping an unconscious woman is something they can’t (and therefore don’t need to) control. It allows them to have something “uncontrollable” to threaten people with, and put the onus on the victim to avoid getting killed/raped rather than on the perpetrator, because in the victim-blaming narrative, there isn’t one. The rapist is like the wind, and the victim is a person who built their house poorly. And that’s why people also are defending the rapists and acting as if it’s unfair for them to be convicted of a crime, because they believe these people weren’t wrong, that without them, how would this girl be punished? What would be the consequences of her drinking too much as a girl without the rapists? How could you threaten women to behave in our society if there isn’t a threat of rape? These guys were just enacting the “consequences” that they wanted her to face for being a girl and drinking too much. The rapist as force of nature, rather than human being responsible for choosing to assault somebody, is really important to rape culture, to rape as corrective social tool, and a way to control women’s behaviour. In a way, these rape apologists aren’t wrong when they claim they aren’t blaming her for being raped because in order to blame her, you’d have to think her rape was wrong in the first place. And to them, it wasn’t, because to them, she’s the one that did something wrong. She’s the one that partied, drank, and flirted as a girl. She deserved punishment. To them, the rape wasn’t wrong. It was justice.