I can’t speak for how other societies address assault, but in the U.S., our culture is built on speaking endlessly to potential victims of assault about all the things they must do to try to avoid becoming victims of assault, and this is done by pointing out all the things past victims of assault did “wrong,” thereby creating the pathway to violence and their dehumanization.
The culture in the US teaches “how not to” be victimized, but rarely teaches people to not be perpetrators of violence. We’re not doing much to stop predatory behavior.
If we don’t have sexual education classes or workshops in middle school and high school, and we’re not having classes and workshops discussing the risks and responsibilities associated with drug and alcohol use (and how the risk factors increase when sex is added to the mix), then we’re definitely not having conversations about assault, abuse, molestation, rape, and pulling trains.
Nope, all we keep hearing is the recycled and regurgitated parts that consistently tell girls and women what they should and shouldn’t do, and what they should and shouldn’t wear, if they don’t want to be physically or sexually assaulted.
All while the boys are being taught: Well, if she didn’t want it then she wouldn’t have…
…worn those clothes
…entered the party,
…entered the room,
…got in the car,
…taken the drink,
…popped the pill,
…puffed on the pipe,
…taken a drag,
…taken a toke,
…left her friends to hang with the guy.
For decades, boys have been hearing, “Sometimes, no means yes,” and “Girls are teases,” and “You know she wants it, look how she’s dressed,” and that’s why many grow into manhood feeling entitled to manipulate, persuade, compete, conquer, and take that which they feel is meant for them to freely have.
When boys aren’t being taught to protect life as though it’s their own, there’s no real resistance to witnessing or taking part in the dehumanization of other people; harm isn’t seen as harm when you’re convinced it was voluntary, and that presence equates to consent.
I can recall hearing stories in high school of various girls who “took part in” weekend “trains” after school sporting events, usually during football and basketball seasons.
My parents never allowed me to go to the parties, so I could never confirm the rumors. It’s not like I was going to walk up and ask one of the girls, “Is it true…?”
I was always concerned about why the act was so funny to the people sharing it, why any guy would want to be part of the train (waiting for their chance), I always wondered if the girls involved actually consented, and where were their friends when all of these things were happening.
My teenage mind also wondered, if the girls genuinely consented, from start to finish, then why? Reputations in high school are dang near impossible to shake once you’ve been labeled.
And I want you to consider my perspective, because every Monday after a party, the rumor mill on my campus was in full force, and it was vicious. I recall hearing a story of a line of boys waiting on a staircase, waiting for their chance to “knock the boots” (as we used to say in the late 80s and early 90s).
Casually waiting in line like it’s an amusement park ride.
How many of those boys got consent, wore condoms, and practiced care before, during, and after the act?
I still wonder.
Each and every time a classmate shared some party gossip, there was always mention of tons of drinking, before, during, and after the party.
I suspect drugs may have been involved, but I wasn’t there to know what substances, if any, were circulating.
I was always shocked to learn that someone’s parents had gone away for the weekend and left them home alone (or with siblings)— house party cauldron.
My parents wouldn’t leave me at home long enough to think of something stupid to do. I also know that the consequences of throwing a secret house party would still have me traumatized. If you grew up with me, then you know that my parents didn’t play that mess.
I was even more shocked to later hear stories of classmates whose parents were home and okay with the parties, because the parents’ mindset was, “I’d rather them drink and party here than be drinking and driving,” never considering that all the kids leaving their home would be driving to their homes intoxicated and possibly under the influence of narcotics.
So, you’re “protecting” your child but not the dozens of others who are in your home and exposed to danger. These parents weren’t driving kids home or paying for taxis, yet they were deemed the “cool parents”.
We shouldn’t be surprised that some high school students make their way to college and then really go buck wild crazy, because now they have fewer barriers to navigate. When you’re living in an apartment or other rental, or in a frat house, you have more options and fewer time constraints than in your dorm or at your childhood home. It can feel like freedom when you don’t have a curfew and adult supervision, and once you’re legally an adult, it feels like the sky’s the limit.
And if boys are never taught to take responsibility for their actions, hold their friends accountable, respect and protect girls, always wear condoms, obtain and respect consent (even during the act), stop when consent is unclear or withdrawn, refuse to participate in or enable sexual assault, and never assume that access or participation automatically means consent—who then bears responsibility for teaching accountability, consent, and intervention?
Hmmm, like expecting girls and women to always be the ones responsible and accountable for birth control— as though conception only requires us, and maturity is confined to and defined by us.
Engaging in sexual activity requires attention to the other person’s ability to consent freely, knowingly, and continuously.
Consent isn’t something to assume, pressure someone into giving, or treat as permanent once given. And if someone is incapacitated, they cannot consent.
Because once they go from boys to men, then what slowly but sharply begins to take shape?
I remember some of the girls at my high school (and a few from nearby schools) who were being shamed and given the ugliest of nicknames. People dehumanized them— they were trash, not somebody’s daughter, sister, friend.
These girls either pretended to laugh it off or internalized it and endured until they were freed on graduation day from the torture chamber called high school. It’s kinda difficult to feel empowered when folks you see five to six days a week are hounding and teasing you, calling you names nobody should ever answer to.
The boys and young men involved in these scandalous acts were given high-fives and pats on the back. Because “boys will be boys” and aren’t they supposed to “sow their wild oats” until they settle down and marry a good girl?
No one considers all of the good girls these boys and young men embarrassed, shamed, let down, changed, broke, or devastated along their erectile journey.
I don’t have any stories from college because I didn’t go to frat parties or most of the house parties. I preferred nightclubs (because there’s security guards and it’s a somewhat controlled environment with multiple exit doors) and since I didn’t drink alcohol or take drugs, I was always the designated driver, and didn’t stand for the okey doke. I had a few rules:
- We came together, we leave together,
- No one goes to the bathroom alone,
- No one is left alone,
- Never leave your drink on the table if we’re not watching it,
- If you feel uncomfortable, do the “countdown.”
The countdown was a hand signal I created so that my friends and I could see each other on the dance floor and assess the perceived threat level on a scale of 1 to 5, with the threat subtly communicated by how many fingers one of us waved or pumped in the air.
Yep, sometimes it would go from one to four fingers real quick, and we’d spring into action. Let me explain:
- Fist raised: the countdown begins.
- One finger: We make eye contact with everyone in our group.
- Two fingers: We slowly move toward the friend
- Three fingers: We’re within arm’s reach, smiling like we’re having a good ole’ time!
- Four fingers: We’re ready to intervene or redirect.
- Five fingers: We pitied the fool who made our friend feel unsafe.
Let’s just say, I rarely wore heels at nightclubs. I came with an understanding that combat might be required. I don’t think I will ever forget the time I put three fingers up, and my friend Karen shimmied over and made eye contact with me. When she saw my four fingers, she startled both the guy and me by pretending to be my jealous girlfriend. The guy was so thrown off, he eventually stumbled away with a shocked look on his face. She and I later burst out laughing.
In the 1990s, we didn’t have the luxury of smartphones and social media. We had pagers, and you had to keep change on you to use phone booths— can you see the complexity?
I’m grateful for all the times my friends responded to my hand signals. I’m grateful for each time I responded to theirs. We protected each other. It’s sad that we had to. It’s sad that women and teenage girls have to watch their drinks like a hawk, refuse hand-delivered drinks offered by guys they don’t know or don’t trust, and try to avoid being drugged and violated.
It’s bad enough we have to watch out for the mean girls who want to do stupid stuff like gang up on you in the bathroom or pour drinks on you. So many of us don’t see the threat from the handsome or sheepishly innocent face of our male counterparts. Many of us don’t see the person slyly spiking our drinks.
In my late 20s and early 30s, I had a few run-ins with spiked drinks, and one time, some random dude blew a white powder in the crowd at a Las Vegas nightclub. Those stories are for sharing on another day. I mentioned them because I’m grateful for my inner circle that protected me and got me to a safe place while I dealt with the side effects.
A lot of energy is invested in not being victimized.
In the U.S., we have laws. Some are outdated. Some things people do are legal but are unethical. Some things that are ethical are illegal under certain laws.
In many states, women and girls don’t have that many rights, especially concerning their bodies. In many states, predators are given the benefit of the doubt (while their victims are doubted), and usually commit violations several times before being held accountable, if ever.
The current debate surrounding the Cornell 7 is a reminder of why we must distinguish between what can be proven in court and what we should find morally and ethically unacceptable. Why are we so quick to dissect what a girl or woman did before an alleged assault, rather than examine the behavior of everyone who was present, participated, encouraged it, or failed to intervene?
Demanding that a Jane Doe reveal their identity to further shame and victimize them is cruel. Reciting laws to rationalize the failure to protect another human life is irresponsible and reckless.
Society will implode if we continue to teach one group how to avoid being prey, while encouraging the other group to continue being or accepting predators.
