Rape. It’s been in the news a lot lately as the Republicans are trying to redefine it to chip away at abortion laws. It’s also in the news because Lara Logan, a journalist from CBS, was separated from her crew in Cairo and endured a sustained sexual assault. My fellow blogger over at ABL’s place, Emily Hauser, wrote an excellent piece about it at her place (also cross-posted at ABL’s place and BJ). Emily taps into the rage she feels at the prevalence of rape and how women are often burdened with the knowledge that whether one is raped or not often comes down to luck.
This is the opening to her post:
I’ve never been raped.
Why? Because I’m lucky.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Go read the rest of her piece right now because I’m going to be riffing on it in my own post. Go on, read it. I’ll wait. Let me know when you’re done.
Unlike Emily, I am not a lucky one. I have been in two situations in which I endured recurring rape. Those of you who read my blog regularly know about it because I post about it from time to time. The first time, it started when I was seven. The second, I was 21 and in a foreign country. Both seemed like they happened a life time ago, and yet, I still deal with the aftermaths and the ramifications to this day.
I started this post a few days ago, and I abandoned it. Why? Because I saw what happened in ee’s threads about rape, both at BJ and at ABL’s place. I saw how the excuses started pouring in, the rationale, the apologia. “Yeah, it’s terrible that she experienced that, but…”
No. There is no fucking but at the end of that sentence. No one deserves to be raped. No one. Not even if she* was in the wrong part of town late at night. Not even if she accepted a drink from a guy and he slipped her a Roofie. Not even if she was dressed in tight clothing. Not even if she went home with a guy she didn’t know and then changed her mind.
No one deserves to be raped. Ever.**