Rape Prevention

     I went to a Rape Prevention class a few nights ago. It is put on by the University. I think by the time it’s done it will be 25 hours worth of classes, including a self defense class. I didn’t seek it out, it found me, well, the girl at the booth said, “Hey!” as I walked by. There are lots of people involved, but we’re divided up into small groups. Of my group of five, I’m the only one not doing it for extra credit. (I’m not taking the psych class) I’ve been meaning to do something like this for a long time though. 

     Are many of you out there are thinking that it’s a little redundant for me to take this class? “You can’t rape the willing” Kind of thinking, or how would I get raped if I go there to have sex. The possibility of me getting raped is very real. In my job I have control of the situation 100% of the time or a frank discussion is had. I’ve only had to use my Mom Voice a few times. So far it always works. 

     If I am not calling the shots, then it is no longer consensual. That’s rape. Sexual assault is any unwanted or unwelcome touch. It’s like when that dude the other day grabbed me before we’d even exchanged words. If things went further, or he didn’t let me up, I would have freaked out. 

     It was hard for me to pay attention in the class. My brain kept wandering off to hypothetical situations, or real situations that could have ended differently. What I learned with my last little round dealing with sexual assault (Blog Entry: My Past) is Law and Order: SVU really glamourises rape. Rarely is it violent, and 0.017% end in murder. The majority of the time it is committed by someone you know. Fighting back or screaming like a mother fucker greatly increases your chance in the rape being unsuccessful. 

     My brain keeps going to what would happen if I was raped. My greatest fear is that there would be drugs involved. Something that I never told you is that when I was a teenager my brothers friend came to live with us to try to get his life straightened out. I loved him. He was like a brother to me. He didn’t get his life straightened out and three years ago while high on crack he strangled a prostitute to death. He is in jail now, and will be for a long time. When drugs are involved things are so unpredictable. Men try to justify it to me, and say that they’re fine when they’re high on... whatever... but that is not how the word unpredictable is defined. I won’t hang around when there is crack involved. 

     What would I do? Would I call the police? Would I fight? How would it affect me afterwards? Given certain situations, and if it was a non-violent attack, part of me thinks it would be easier to lie there and just check out. Wait until it’s over. Do what I have to do to make it ‘not that bad’. If it were to happen in someones home, there wouldn’t be a lot of point in screaming. I think if it were in a hotel, I would scream bloody murder though, I would totally fight back. There is a part of me that gets really afraid, and timid when people get in my face. I just don’t know what to say. I was bullied a lot throughout school and rather than dealing with it, I turtled. For years. And I think in certain circumstances, I’d do the same. And then there is a big part of me who doesn’t take any shit from anyone. Lets call that part Alison. “Fuck you. Yeah. Maybe you did it, but you’re sure as fuck not going to get away with it.” Part of me has this image of me waiting outside the hotel room door afterwards with hotel staff making sure he doesn’t leave before the cops show up. 

    But what if it was violent? I would like to think for sure I would call the cops. When you call the cops though, the guy doesn’t just get arrested, and then goes away forever. Best case scenario; There’s a process. A slow, slow process. I’d have to go to court, and testify. My whole life would be on trial. My sexual deviancies didn’t start when with this job. I think of the movie Lincoln Lawyer, and how that girl got torn apart on the stand, and I struggle with the decision. Worst case scenario (that I want to imagine) the cops don’t take me seriously cause I’m a prostitute. 

     Then the after affect. I was robbed once. I think I was 19 or 20. I was working in a deli alone late at night. That night, and the next morning I felt ok. I was a little shaken up, but hardly traumatised. My boss gave me the next day off work (without pay), but I assured her I was fine. I took that day off though and went to the mall. Out in public. I thought I was fine, but I wasn’t. I’ve never experienced fear like that before. Completely irrational fear of every person who walked towards me. That’s what scares me about this potential experience. That, and being alone afterwards. I don’t want to think how awful it would be to be alone after that. 

    I know I’m going pretty deep into a hypothetical situation, but even if I wasn’t in this job, it’s a very real threat. Frick, it’s already happened to me twice. The stats on this stuff is just disgusting. 

     It doesn’t matter if your a slut, or a whore, or a tease, or a drunk or just a fucking girl trying to get home after work, rape is rape. Nobody asks for it. It doesn’t matter what she’s wearing or what she does. If she says no, that’s where it needs to stop. Regardless.

     The majority of my friends are dudes, and pretty cool dudes, if I do say so myself. I was talking to one of them recently about the male and female perspective. We were talking about how women are oppressed, and men just have no clue. There are no guys in my women’s study class because they see it as a “women’s issue”. But it’s everyones issue. It’s not just about being raised with pink and Barbies, it’s systemic. He has full respect for women, and doesn’t consciously think of them as less than, but it runs so deep. I heard on the radio yesterday, racism isn’t just about hating people of different colour, it’s about not caring. It’s about not seeing people of different colour and their struggles. It’s about their struggles not even occurring to you. The same goes for sexism. 

     “It doesn’t even occur to men how conscious women have to be of their safety on an on-going basis,” 

     “You know what though, a friend of mine told me the other day how it’s so much more likely that a woman is raped by someone she knows. It blew me away! like 60% more likelyI had no idea how common date rape is at parties.”

     “I know three girls who have been date raped at parties. Fuck, that guy who walked me home that night when I was super drunk date raped me when he got in my apartment.”

     “What?! When was this?! What happened”
     “I think I was 20...? He was a friend of a friend, I got shitfaced, and he offered to walk me home. I appreciated it, cause I was so drunk, but I tried to leave him on the sidewalk. When he saw I couldn’t get my key in the door he took me into my apartment. When I was almost passed out on the couch, he carried me into my bedroom and fucked me.”

     “He raped you.” It a statement, not a question.

     Hearing it said like that was like a little a slap in the face. I almost said, “No he date raped me.” Like it’s different. Like it’s less wrong.

     “Yeah, I guess,” I said. I couldn’t not look at the floor when I said that. 

     “Did you try to fight him off?” 

     “I fought to stay conscious. I did say ‘no’ though.”

     Because, until recently, I never attached emotion to sex I feel that that incident did not have a super negative effect on me. I was mostly just pissed off and was very vocal about that amongst our friends, and friends of friends, and of anyone I thought may know him.

     One of the things we’re learning about in this course I’m taking is to avoid situations which could present an opportunity for a sexual assault to occur. Example: Don’t get super super drunk when you’re friends aren’t looking out for you, don’t go up to a dudes bed room at a house party to “talk”, cause we all know you aren’t going to be talking. 

     I was telling him about these things, then I laughed and said, “Why do you think you’re here now! Your buddy Matt was supposed to come over and re-wire my kitchen light, and I invited you as a buffer. Do I think he would rape me if he got me alone in a room? Not for a second. But I don’t want to have to deal with him if he does make a move {for consent}” 

     “Oh, he would of totally tried to get in your pants.”

     “Exactly, I don’t want that! Thanks Buffer!” I said pointing at him.