It stops with you…
Warning Before you read on I warn that this content is sensitive and may be triggering for some. It is not in my usual light humour and takes on a very serious subject.
By now, we have all read about the seven students at Cornell who gang-raped a female student while communicating with 50 other students who did nothing. Further to that, there were administrators who were aware of what had happened and had the rapists write essays. Essays… WTF?
I have had many conversations with women in my circle about this over the last few days. So many stories of sexual assault have been shared by women of all ages. All of them saying, “Yes, me too.” Not as a movement, but as a statement—as though this is simply what happens to most women.
There has been a call to release her name. There is no need to release her name because we are all Jane Doe.
If only 40% of sexual assaults are reported, that means there are so many more people who have experienced it and never reported it. How many Jane Does are walking around carrying this secret with them? I think way more than 40%.
Additionally, I am seeing an increasing number of reels on social media addressing the issue of women’s safety and how, no matter what we do, we are never truly safe.
Walk on one side of the street. Avoid shortcuts. Don’t go out late at night. Make sure someone knows where you are. Don’t go out with strangers. If you do, tell someone. Etc., etc.
How about telling men that it’s not okay to assault women? Not ever.
For those of you who remember the tea meme from about 10 years ago: “If she’s passed out, she doesn’t want the tea.” Just in case I’ve included the link below.
I don’t discuss this as a bystander. I am a survivor.
I was gang-raped at a party by five boys in 1989. Then, one boy who owned the house took me out of the storage room and brought me to his bedroom, where he also had sex with me.
I was drunk. It was my first time. I woke up in a puddle of my own blood, and there was blood all over my hands. I assume it was from trying to defend myself.
I don’t know if I blacked out or dissociated. However, to this day, there are images from that night that flash into my head. None of them positive. All of them painful.
Did I deserve that? NO.
Was my being drunk an invitation? NO.
Did anyone stop what was happening? NO.
Could I have stopped it? NO.
How does a five-foot-tall, 115-pound intoxicated young girl fight off five boys who are all bigger and stronger than her? It’s physically impossible.
When I finally had the nerve to share what had happened with a friend and ask why no one came to help, they simply said that they heard me screaming and thought I was enjoying it.
Again, this was 1989—37 years ago.
How do screams sound like enjoyment?
I can say that after several decades, I’ve certainly had my share of loud sex, and that NEVER sounds like screaming. It NEVER sounded like rape.
I had hoped that by now things would have changed for the better. That a group of people would know that a young woman was in trouble and would help her.
Sadly, we as women hear and share too many stories of rape and sexual assault.
The common denominator here is not women.
We are NOT victims. We are women—women being taken advantage of by fellow humans who are more often bigger and physically stronger than we are.
We have to teach other women how to stay safe, and in many cases, we aren’t even safe in our own homes. Once again, the number of women who are sexually and physically assaulted by members of their own families, acquaintances, friends or by individuals invited into their homes is astounding.
The common denominator here is MEN.
I am by no means a man-hater. I love men. I have been married to two of them, and if the stars align, I might one day find another partner to share my time with.
I also have two wonderful sons who have been taught that consent is so important, as is standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. I only hope that if they are ever put in a situation like “Jane Doe” or like my own, they will stand up and stop what is happening.
I don’t share my own experience to be felt sorry for or for any kind of consoling, I’ve made peace with what happened to me.
I share it simply to say that the rape at Cornell University is not an isolated incident.
Hopefully, the more women who talk about assault and share their experiences, the more men will understand that this behaviour is NEVER acceptable.
Think of your mother. Your sister. Your girlfriend. Your future daughter.
It stops with you.
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