Aquaintance Rape is a Strange Thing
I was reading an article regarding how the fear of rape (or the social fear of girls being raped) costs women in ways we aren't always aware of. The author pointed out that women who do not take these steps are often blamed for the results. However, roughly 75% of rapes are perpetrated, not by strangers in dark alleys, but by friends or acquaintances. This got me thinking about my own experiences and how they have changed the way I move about in the world. I will relate one such story, and the results (insofar as I'm conscious of them), below and behind the cut. I've had other experiences, some much worse, but this one is particularly relevant to me today.
There was a friend of my brother (hereafter referred to as TheGuy) who I was really into. I mean, I had a huge crush on TheGuy. Largely because he was so kind and intelligent. I did not know him all that well, but, if he'd asked me on a date, I'd have said yes in a heartbeat. And, honestly, that date would have probably ended in sex. I wanted to get to know him better than I'd been able to with my brother around, I wanted to kiss him, et cetera. I'm sure you've all been there, so I'm not going to elaborate any further.
Anyway, I got out of the shower one day to find that my brother had brought TheGuy over. I passed by them with my towel on (because I had to) and went straight to my room to get dressed. I came back out, and discovered that TheGuy was drunk. He was pouring his heart out to my brother, and I didn't feel like it was my business, so I went about mine. I got on the computer in the living room and let them alone.
My brother left the house for something, and TheGuy came out into the living room. He was upset and I tried to give him some comforting words. Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed me and kissed me. Not in a romantic way. In a sudden, grabby, violent way. I have difficulty explaining the difference, but, trust me, there's a difference.
I said "stop, you're drunk", pulled away, and started walking back to my room. He came after me, caught up to me in the hallway, pinned me against the wall, and started kissing me and rubbing up against me. I kept saying 'stop' and 'no' and 'please let me go', but he didn't listen to my pleas. He started groping me and undressing me, in my parent's house, in the hallway. I kept telling/asking/begging him to stop, and he kept saying 'I know you want this' and 'I want this' and 'I've wanted this for a long time'. I finally got loose enough, mentally and physically, to kick him in the groin. Hard. While he was recovering, I ran to my room, shut the door, and put the dresser in front of it. This was around the time my brother came back in, and he got pretty angry from what little he saw. TheGuy never came to our house again.
The thing is, I think a large part of what prevented me from hurting him sooner was that I cared about him. I thought he cared about me, somewhere in there, and that I'd be able to convince him to stop without hurting him. I didn't want to hurt him. But I finally realized that, if he cared about me, he wouldn't hurt me. Since one of us was going to be hurt, better him than me. This isn't to say that I wasn't fighting as hard as I could to get away. Just that I wasn't fighting to hurt him. It was only by fighting to hurt him, and actually hurting him, that I managed to get away.
Actually, I'm quite sure that it was only my fighting that kept it from going farther, faster: I was making it as difficult for him as I could. But TheGuy was a soccer player. He was not only stronger than me, but also had more experience using his entire body, not just his arms or legs. And that became clear to me pretty early on in the incident.
I've gone through a lot of "what-ifs" about the situation. I think people in those situations always do.
What if TheGuy hadn't been drunk? Would he still have done it? And, if so, would I have been able to get away at all?
What if my brother hadn't come in when he did? Would TheGuy have forced his way into my room? Would I have been able to stop him at that point?
I know these mental exercises are pointless and hurtful. I have enough experience with traumatic situations that I know I'm better off not asking those questions. But that doesn't stop me from engaging them from time to time, when I'm emotionally upset or exhausted.
So, now, we get to the whole reason I'm writing this post: I haven't taken a shower today. I woke up feeling yucky and wanting a shower, but I didn't take one.
Why?
Because I knew we were going to have some people delivering furniture to us later in the day. Yes, I woke up at 10am, and they weren't due until 1pm. Yes, I now have absolutely no reason to expect them back.
But I still have the absolute overwhelming fear of them coming here while I'm in the shower. Because they are strangers. I will take showers when I'm expecting a friend. I will take showers with a friend in the house. I've even had friends come into the bathroom while I'm in the shower, and I am not overwhelmed with fear. Instead, I'm afraid of strangers coming over while I'm in the shower.
Why does the fear manifest itself in that way? This is a question I've often asked myself. And I think I have an answer. I think it's a psychological defense mechanism.
The problem is, if you apply the fear to the appropriate group (acquaintances and friends), you can't trust anyone. If I wrapped up all of my bad experiences, from attempted rape to rape to stalking, and applied it to the group of people who did it to me in the first place, I would never be able to leave my house. I would have to have my groceries delivered by a different person every time just to ensure I never got to know the delivery person. I would not only not have a social life, but I wouldn't have a job or school or anything. I would have to order all my books online, because I couldn't go to a library or book store.
So, I think the mind tells itself a story. This was a one-time thing. You didn't know that person as well as you thought you did. You sent signals by accident. The person had a brain disorder or a chemical imbalance or something. Other people are different. Real friends don't do this (nevermind that they have, and do).
So, instead, I'm afraid to take a shower if there's a chance a stranger will come over while I'm in there. I'm afraid to let the guys at the grocery store carry my bags to the car for me, even though I have trouble doing it myself, because I'd be alone in a dark parking lot with a stranger, and we'd even be next to a car. I'm afraid of getting into a routine because it would be too easy for a stranger to stalk me. I'm afraid to talk to guys in bars because one of them might force himself on me. Every time someone comes to the door while I'm home alone, I'm afraid, be it a salesman or mailman.
But, paradoxically, I'll take a shower when friends are over. I'll walk through abandoned parking lots and parks and streets and alleys with a friend. I'll let my friends know everything I'm planning to do that day/week/etc (okay, most of the time). I'll hang out alone with someone who's drinking heavily. I'll let a friend into my house at 1am while I'm otherwise alone.
It's very strange and very confusing. Honestly, I don't know how it ends up this way. I don't know why the brain, rather than misplacing the fear, doesn't skip the fear entirely. But it seems that trauma needs a way to express itself, at least for me, and so it picks the only ways it can. So, instead of being so fearful that I can't make friends or accomplish anything, I have lots of small fears that I know are completely irrational. I look emotional and stupid, rather than justifiably scarred. But I guess looking stupid is just another way in which fear of rape costs us.
There was a friend of my brother (hereafter referred to as TheGuy) who I was really into. I mean, I had a huge crush on TheGuy. Largely because he was so kind and intelligent. I did not know him all that well, but, if he'd asked me on a date, I'd have said yes in a heartbeat. And, honestly, that date would have probably ended in sex. I wanted to get to know him better than I'd been able to with my brother around, I wanted to kiss him, et cetera. I'm sure you've all been there, so I'm not going to elaborate any further.
Anyway, I got out of the shower one day to find that my brother had brought TheGuy over. I passed by them with my towel on (because I had to) and went straight to my room to get dressed. I came back out, and discovered that TheGuy was drunk. He was pouring his heart out to my brother, and I didn't feel like it was my business, so I went about mine. I got on the computer in the living room and let them alone.
My brother left the house for something, and TheGuy came out into the living room. He was upset and I tried to give him some comforting words. Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed me and kissed me. Not in a romantic way. In a sudden, grabby, violent way. I have difficulty explaining the difference, but, trust me, there's a difference.
I said "stop, you're drunk", pulled away, and started walking back to my room. He came after me, caught up to me in the hallway, pinned me against the wall, and started kissing me and rubbing up against me. I kept saying 'stop' and 'no' and 'please let me go', but he didn't listen to my pleas. He started groping me and undressing me, in my parent's house, in the hallway. I kept telling/asking/begging him to stop, and he kept saying 'I know you want this' and 'I want this' and 'I've wanted this for a long time'. I finally got loose enough, mentally and physically, to kick him in the groin. Hard. While he was recovering, I ran to my room, shut the door, and put the dresser in front of it. This was around the time my brother came back in, and he got pretty angry from what little he saw. TheGuy never came to our house again.
The thing is, I think a large part of what prevented me from hurting him sooner was that I cared about him. I thought he cared about me, somewhere in there, and that I'd be able to convince him to stop without hurting him. I didn't want to hurt him. But I finally realized that, if he cared about me, he wouldn't hurt me. Since one of us was going to be hurt, better him than me. This isn't to say that I wasn't fighting as hard as I could to get away. Just that I wasn't fighting to hurt him. It was only by fighting to hurt him, and actually hurting him, that I managed to get away.
Actually, I'm quite sure that it was only my fighting that kept it from going farther, faster: I was making it as difficult for him as I could. But TheGuy was a soccer player. He was not only stronger than me, but also had more experience using his entire body, not just his arms or legs. And that became clear to me pretty early on in the incident.
I've gone through a lot of "what-ifs" about the situation. I think people in those situations always do.
What if TheGuy hadn't been drunk? Would he still have done it? And, if so, would I have been able to get away at all?
What if my brother hadn't come in when he did? Would TheGuy have forced his way into my room? Would I have been able to stop him at that point?
I know these mental exercises are pointless and hurtful. I have enough experience with traumatic situations that I know I'm better off not asking those questions. But that doesn't stop me from engaging them from time to time, when I'm emotionally upset or exhausted.
So, now, we get to the whole reason I'm writing this post: I haven't taken a shower today. I woke up feeling yucky and wanting a shower, but I didn't take one.
Why?
Because I knew we were going to have some people delivering furniture to us later in the day. Yes, I woke up at 10am, and they weren't due until 1pm. Yes, I now have absolutely no reason to expect them back.
But I still have the absolute overwhelming fear of them coming here while I'm in the shower. Because they are strangers. I will take showers when I'm expecting a friend. I will take showers with a friend in the house. I've even had friends come into the bathroom while I'm in the shower, and I am not overwhelmed with fear. Instead, I'm afraid of strangers coming over while I'm in the shower.
Why does the fear manifest itself in that way? This is a question I've often asked myself. And I think I have an answer. I think it's a psychological defense mechanism.
The problem is, if you apply the fear to the appropriate group (acquaintances and friends), you can't trust anyone. If I wrapped up all of my bad experiences, from attempted rape to rape to stalking, and applied it to the group of people who did it to me in the first place, I would never be able to leave my house. I would have to have my groceries delivered by a different person every time just to ensure I never got to know the delivery person. I would not only not have a social life, but I wouldn't have a job or school or anything. I would have to order all my books online, because I couldn't go to a library or book store.
So, I think the mind tells itself a story. This was a one-time thing. You didn't know that person as well as you thought you did. You sent signals by accident. The person had a brain disorder or a chemical imbalance or something. Other people are different. Real friends don't do this (nevermind that they have, and do).
So, instead, I'm afraid to take a shower if there's a chance a stranger will come over while I'm in there. I'm afraid to let the guys at the grocery store carry my bags to the car for me, even though I have trouble doing it myself, because I'd be alone in a dark parking lot with a stranger, and we'd even be next to a car. I'm afraid of getting into a routine because it would be too easy for a stranger to stalk me. I'm afraid to talk to guys in bars because one of them might force himself on me. Every time someone comes to the door while I'm home alone, I'm afraid, be it a salesman or mailman.
But, paradoxically, I'll take a shower when friends are over. I'll walk through abandoned parking lots and parks and streets and alleys with a friend. I'll let my friends know everything I'm planning to do that day/week/etc (okay, most of the time). I'll hang out alone with someone who's drinking heavily. I'll let a friend into my house at 1am while I'm otherwise alone.
It's very strange and very confusing. Honestly, I don't know how it ends up this way. I don't know why the brain, rather than misplacing the fear, doesn't skip the fear entirely. But it seems that trauma needs a way to express itself, at least for me, and so it picks the only ways it can. So, instead of being so fearful that I can't make friends or accomplish anything, I have lots of small fears that I know are completely irrational. I look emotional and stupid, rather than justifiably scarred. But I guess looking stupid is just another way in which fear of rape costs us.