Tag Archives: rape
How to be difficult
Earlier this week I wrote a post about the Cornell rapes – about how awkward it can be to speak up against rape culture, and why it’s so important that men try to do it anyway. I’d love you guys to understand that being a ‘good guy’ doesn’t usually mean saying the right thing and then getting praise, but saying the difficult thing that prompts an uncomfortable silence. It isn’t easy to be difficult, but if you want to step up to the plate, here are some tips.
Cornell
Note that this post discusses rape, rape culture and the recent news about Cornell University.
I don’t write about dark shit like I used to. I think in recent years, when rape and sexual assault has come up in the headlines, I’ve been less inclined to write about it than I am to just share other people’s takes before weeping quietly in a corner. Part of me wants to say it’s because it’s too depressing, which it is. But I don’t think that’s the reason. An armchair psychologist might say it’s because I find it triggering, having been raped myself a few years ago. But it’s not that either. I think the main reason I don’t write as frequently about rape these days is because it just feels so fucking futile.
Gisèle Pelicot’s power, and Dominique Pelicot’s shame
Have you heard of Gisèle Pelicot? You must have by now, surely. You must have heard of the woman who stood up publicly and showed everyone exactly where the shame lies in a rape case. Gisèle’s husband, Dominique Pelicot, drugged her repeatedly and invited strangers into their home to rape his unconscious wife over a period of almost a decade. There are 50 other men who have all been found guilty today, and more who have still not yet been identified. Despite the enormous stress of publicly naming your assailants, Gisèle Pelicot waived her anonymity in this case, to ensure that people knew not just what had been done but crucially who had done it. Gisèle Pelicot taught a world that desperately needed to hear it that ‘shame must change sides.’ So as we celebrate her breathtaking heroism, let’s also spend some time discussing Dominique Pelicot’s shame.
Guest blog: How to have sex again after a rape
Today’s guest blog is by an anonymous contributor, and reading it affected me so much that I don’t know how to capture that in an intro. It’s a stunning, raw, powerful story about having sex again after a rape, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am to this brilliant writer for sharing their journey. Note that the first half contains descriptions of rape and assault.
Stealth (part 2): Why am I telling this story?
CN: stealthing/rape, brief mention of domestic violence.
On my way from his place to the tube, I stick my headphones in and whack on some loud, jaunty tunes. Force of habit. There’s an upbeat soundtrack playing to the blood thumping in my ears. Walking to the station after getting stealthed I remember thinking that I should probably be crying. I should be sad. I should be feeling used and hurt and frightened and small. But I’m not, not right now. I’ll definitely feel all those things in the coming days, but right now if I have to label it the thing I am feeling is ‘rage.’ I’m not ‘sad’, I am incensed. I have a lot of thoughts about what happened, but the one that’s clearest in my mind is that I will tell this story.