(no subject)
I went to Slutwalk NYC by myself, but I wasn't alone.
(Photo by Denise Ginley. That is me, and my sign, and my little black dress that isn't saying anything BECAUSE IT'S A GODDAMN DRESS.)
I don't have a story to share. I've never been raped, or assaulted, and I thank god this is the case every day. The worst that has happened is that there have been guys who have made me uncomfortable -- usually in a public space. I have friends and family -- some of them talk about it, others don't, but statistically, it's the case. I remember during a college orientation meeting we had the old, "Look to your right, look to your left, chances are one of you will be sexually assaulted in your lifetime." Since it wasn't (isn't) me, I sometimes wonder whether it was (will be) Right or Left.
I wanted to walk. I went to walk for my friends and family who can't, for whatever reason, or aren't comfortable. Because it pisses me off that people will take one of the most horrible things to ever happen to people that I LOVE and make a joke about it, expect me to laugh, and try to ostracize me and them when I don't. It pisses me off when people try and ask details, of "What was she (because it is usually, but not always, a she -- and if it's not we don't talk about it at all, which is in some ways worse) wearing? Was she drinking? How well did she know this person? How many other people has she slept with?" IT'S IRRELEVANT, OKAY. You can't ask to have a violent crime committed on your person. THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS.
Sometimes I read things on the internet that just make me so upset and depress me so horribly and I can't believe that people seriously think that if someone wanted to rape me while I was walking down the street, or at a party, or in my own bedroom, that it would make a difference whether I was wearing a little black dress, jeans and a sweatshirt, pajamas, if my hair and make up was done, or if I was having a good day or a bad day. A rapist whether they be a stranger or someone you trust is not going to look at a girl with a messy ponytail and ratty jeans and an oversized hoodie and say, "Oh, gee, not hot enough. I'll catch the next one." Because it's not about sex. And it pisses me off that people don't get that.
So, instead of sitting on my ass in my room, I went and got mad with a thousand other women and men of all sizes, ages, and races and all manners of dress. And we filled the streets with our anger. People took my picture, I took theirs, and we did our best collectively and individually to get our message out. As it started to rain, a guy from Vanity Fair (I'm pretty sure that's what he said) asked me some questions. He said he'd follow up with an e-mail with some more questions so I'm waiting for those and will keep an eye out.
If we changed one mind, changed one heart, or made someone think about their behavior, then I think it was worth it.
I'm aware that "Slutwalk" in itself has problems wrt the terminology it uses, and who feels comfortable with it and who doesn't, particularly in regards to WOC. But I can't live in a world anymore where victims are blamed for crimes that are perpetrated on them, particularly something so violent and devastating as rape and sexual assault. I don't want to live here anymore, my mother and aunts have lived here long enough. I don't want my little sister -- my AWESOME baby sister who does things like head butt Brazilians in Japanese night clubs when they try and get fresh with her and her friend -- to live here anymore. I don't want my friends to be here anymore. I don't want my children, boys, girls, and otherwise to have to worry about... anything, but least of all whether someone will try to blame them for something that is not their fault.
(Photo by Denise Ginley. That is me, and my sign, and my little black dress that isn't saying anything BECAUSE IT'S A GODDAMN DRESS.)
I don't have a story to share. I've never been raped, or assaulted, and I thank god this is the case every day. The worst that has happened is that there have been guys who have made me uncomfortable -- usually in a public space. I have friends and family -- some of them talk about it, others don't, but statistically, it's the case. I remember during a college orientation meeting we had the old, "Look to your right, look to your left, chances are one of you will be sexually assaulted in your lifetime." Since it wasn't (isn't) me, I sometimes wonder whether it was (will be) Right or Left.
I wanted to walk. I went to walk for my friends and family who can't, for whatever reason, or aren't comfortable. Because it pisses me off that people will take one of the most horrible things to ever happen to people that I LOVE and make a joke about it, expect me to laugh, and try to ostracize me and them when I don't. It pisses me off when people try and ask details, of "What was she (because it is usually, but not always, a she -- and if it's not we don't talk about it at all, which is in some ways worse) wearing? Was she drinking? How well did she know this person? How many other people has she slept with?" IT'S IRRELEVANT, OKAY. You can't ask to have a violent crime committed on your person. THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS.
Sometimes I read things on the internet that just make me so upset and depress me so horribly and I can't believe that people seriously think that if someone wanted to rape me while I was walking down the street, or at a party, or in my own bedroom, that it would make a difference whether I was wearing a little black dress, jeans and a sweatshirt, pajamas, if my hair and make up was done, or if I was having a good day or a bad day. A rapist whether they be a stranger or someone you trust is not going to look at a girl with a messy ponytail and ratty jeans and an oversized hoodie and say, "Oh, gee, not hot enough. I'll catch the next one." Because it's not about sex. And it pisses me off that people don't get that.
So, instead of sitting on my ass in my room, I went and got mad with a thousand other women and men of all sizes, ages, and races and all manners of dress. And we filled the streets with our anger. People took my picture, I took theirs, and we did our best collectively and individually to get our message out. As it started to rain, a guy from Vanity Fair (I'm pretty sure that's what he said) asked me some questions. He said he'd follow up with an e-mail with some more questions so I'm waiting for those and will keep an eye out.
If we changed one mind, changed one heart, or made someone think about their behavior, then I think it was worth it.
I'm aware that "Slutwalk" in itself has problems wrt the terminology it uses, and who feels comfortable with it and who doesn't, particularly in regards to WOC. But I can't live in a world anymore where victims are blamed for crimes that are perpetrated on them, particularly something so violent and devastating as rape and sexual assault. I don't want to live here anymore, my mother and aunts have lived here long enough. I don't want my little sister -- my AWESOME baby sister who does things like head butt Brazilians in Japanese night clubs when they try and get fresh with her and her friend -- to live here anymore. I don't want my friends to be here anymore. I don't want my children, boys, girls, and otherwise to have to worry about... anything, but least of all whether someone will try to blame them for something that is not their fault.