When I got up today I was intending to write some more about BDD, since yesterday's efforts felt messy to me. Instead, I found and watched this video. For those who don't have time to check it out, it's a debate about the victim blaming comments made by Serena Williams in regards to the Steubenville rape case.
There were some good points raised in the debate, including keeping the focus on asking why people rape, a discussion about parental and community responsibility and the difference between accountability and responsibility. There was also an attempt to defend Serena's position, which was less awesome in my opinion.
This raised a fair few issues for me, things like this can be incredibly triggering for me - and I have no doubt other victims/survivors/people who have experienced sexual violence. I hate that there is still a need to discuss this. The only person responsible for any specific incident of sexual violence is the person or people who perpetrated it. When it happens to a child or young person, then it is vital to also look at how and why they weren't protected by parents/caregivers/teachers/the wider community. What there should never be, in my opinion, is a need to tell people that they hold some of the blame for what happened to them because of where they were/how they were acting/how they were dressed and so forth.
The only times I was raped whilst intoxicated were the times my father forced me to drink, or spiked my drink with something. I have been drunk many times without being raped. I have been drunk many times without ever raping or otherwise assaulting someone. I have been around drunk people without ever taking advantage of them. Drinking is not an excuse for sexual violence. True, drinking to excess can increase your vulnerability but so can many other things. Such as being a child, being unlucky enough to have be-friended a rapist or living within a rape culture.
If we keep teaching people that the only way to stay safe from rape is to never ever do anything that will leave them vulnerable to rape then we end up in a situation where people can't trust their own families, make friends with anyone. Where people can't wear clothes or not wear clothes. Where they can't be inside or outside. In short, we end up in a situation where it becomes impossible for people to live and function. Oh, and since none of these things will stop there being rapists then people who try to follow all these impossible rules will still be vulnerable to rape.
Now, I'm not saying never take precautions to keep yourself safe. Sadly, the reality of life is that there are risks out there and if we're aware of them we can try to reduce them. As a young adult we used to go to great lengths to make sure everyone got home safely after a night out and so on. It's great that I had the luxury of friends who were prepared to look out for each other. Not everybody does.
The truth still remains however that whatever we do to safeguard ourselves, we're still at risk. And there comes a point where trying to reduce that risk comes at too great a cost, when it has such an impact on your life that you no longer feel able to do anything.
And no amount of not drinking, not going to parties, not dressing how you want and not having a social life you enjoy will change the fact that most people who experience sexual violence are targeted by people they know and often trust. Which none of these rules will in any way help to defend us from.
So, I say it again and I will keep saying it: the way to reduce the risk of rape is to create a culture which actively discourages it, which makes it hard to achieve. A culture where those who experience it are listened to, believed and supported. Whilst those who perpetrate it are condemned for their actions.
It's not about whether someone was drunk or not, whether someone is a virgin or not. It's not about how they are dressed, where they were, what they were doing. It's about the presence of rapists and abusers in our society. We probably can't get rid of them completely, but we can make it harder for them to operate. We can make it easier for their targets to come forward and prosecute them. That's where the focus needs to be.
Showing posts with label feminism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feminism. Show all posts
Friday, 21 June 2013
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Oh look, another sexual assault and victim blaming rant.
Today I have been reminded of something which happened back when I was at school. I was 15, studying for my GCSE's. The incidents I am thinking about happened primarily in my French class, over a number of weeks.
I'll be honest, as a teen I was awkward both socially and physically. I wasn't a popular girl, though I had a small but tight knit group of friends and a few acquaintances. The sort of people I got on with, who seemed to like me but would studiously look the other way or even join in when I experienced the occasional bout of bullying.
One of these acquaintances was a boy I will call K. K was very good friends with two of the girls I hung out with. He'd known them for years, grew up with them and their parents were close. So, I came in contact with K quite often. By the time we were 15 I was starting to think of him as a friend. He would talk to me even when our mutual friends weren't about, and engaged in some harmless teasing of the sort that is usual between kids of that age.
At the start of the Easter term our French teacher decided to alter the seating arrangements. I ended up sat next to K. I'm sure I've mentioned that I was a very anxious child and teenager, so I didn't like this change. I was relieved that at least I was going to be sat with someone I liked however, and tried to look at it as a chance to get to know him better.
During the first lesson we were sat together, he placed his hand on my knee, over my skirt. I shifted it off. He apologised. No problem, I thought. The next lesson, he did it again. This time when I moved it, he grinned. A few minutes later it was back. He scribbled in my note book. 'I'm just being friendly.'
By the end of the lesson I was really upset with him. Touching me wasn't 'being friendly' not when it was a touch I didn't want. I told him in no uncertain terms not to do it again. He apologised once more. Next lesson, he slid his hand up my leg and under my skirt. I removed it. And the battle continued.
There were more scribbled notes - was I frigid, a lesbian, a racist (we were of different ethnic backgrounds). Was there something wrong with me, that I wouldn't want a nice boy like him to touch me? Two weeks after this all started he told me I should be happy of the attention, it wasn't like anyone else was showing an interest. He also made it clear he didn't fancy me, so I shouldn't get all arrogant about it.
Needless to say, this really confused me. I considered seriously talking to someone about this. My form tutor, perhaps. First, I decided to raise the issue with my friends. They plead for leniency. It would be problematic for them, if there was a falling out. It was true he was behaving in an annoying and upsetting manner but apparently he 'didn't mean anything by it.' It was made fairly clear that if I kicked up a fuss about a bit of casual touching, then I would be completely over reacting, earn an unpleasant reputation for myself - after all, nice girls didn't get groped in class - and force my friends to pick sides, which they didn't want to do.
So, I didn't tell anyone. Instead, this carried on. Until one day, when his hand managed to travel so far up my leg he was brushing against my knickers before I managed to grab and remove it. I had had enough. I told him to fuck off and leave me alone, then burst into tears. I was sent out of the class for making noise and creating a disturbance. The teacher never asked me why I shouted out, or what was happening. Later, when talking about it I was told not to make excuses for my own bad behaviour. No one was interested in listening to me about what had happened, or why. The important thing for me to understand was that swearing, talking in class and disturbing other students was never acceptable.
Needless to say, this gave K the clear message that he could carry on with what he was doing, safe in the knowledge that any attempts to stop him would lead to me being punished, rather than him. So, I refused to sit beside him. I was sent out of class again. I was told I must sit where the teacher told me to. I explained that I understood this, and would sit anywhere else I was asked. But I would not sit beside K. In the end, they moved me back to sit beside one of my friends. K was never asked what it was he was doing that made me so determined not to sit by him.
K and my friends considered the change in seating arrangements to be the end of the matter, with all issues resolved. The whole situation was hurtful and hateful, though paled in comparison with what else was going on in my life at the time.
The thing which brought this to mind was coming across a disgusting 'game' called 'Nervous.' This is a 'game' where school boys sit beside their female classmates and see how far up their legs they can move their hands before the girl objects or twitches, revealing her 'nervous' spot. I wonder now if what happened to me was part of a similar game. Apparently, this charming 'game' has been around for while.
When people ask me why I am a feminist, this is why. Because the casual abuse of peers is not acceptable, ever. It is not a game, it is not funny, it is not a compliment. It is a disgusting, vile act and the fact it happens in our classrooms, so often unchecked or unnoticed is an atrocity.
I'll be honest, as a teen I was awkward both socially and physically. I wasn't a popular girl, though I had a small but tight knit group of friends and a few acquaintances. The sort of people I got on with, who seemed to like me but would studiously look the other way or even join in when I experienced the occasional bout of bullying.
One of these acquaintances was a boy I will call K. K was very good friends with two of the girls I hung out with. He'd known them for years, grew up with them and their parents were close. So, I came in contact with K quite often. By the time we were 15 I was starting to think of him as a friend. He would talk to me even when our mutual friends weren't about, and engaged in some harmless teasing of the sort that is usual between kids of that age.
At the start of the Easter term our French teacher decided to alter the seating arrangements. I ended up sat next to K. I'm sure I've mentioned that I was a very anxious child and teenager, so I didn't like this change. I was relieved that at least I was going to be sat with someone I liked however, and tried to look at it as a chance to get to know him better.
During the first lesson we were sat together, he placed his hand on my knee, over my skirt. I shifted it off. He apologised. No problem, I thought. The next lesson, he did it again. This time when I moved it, he grinned. A few minutes later it was back. He scribbled in my note book. 'I'm just being friendly.'
By the end of the lesson I was really upset with him. Touching me wasn't 'being friendly' not when it was a touch I didn't want. I told him in no uncertain terms not to do it again. He apologised once more. Next lesson, he slid his hand up my leg and under my skirt. I removed it. And the battle continued.
There were more scribbled notes - was I frigid, a lesbian, a racist (we were of different ethnic backgrounds). Was there something wrong with me, that I wouldn't want a nice boy like him to touch me? Two weeks after this all started he told me I should be happy of the attention, it wasn't like anyone else was showing an interest. He also made it clear he didn't fancy me, so I shouldn't get all arrogant about it.
Needless to say, this really confused me. I considered seriously talking to someone about this. My form tutor, perhaps. First, I decided to raise the issue with my friends. They plead for leniency. It would be problematic for them, if there was a falling out. It was true he was behaving in an annoying and upsetting manner but apparently he 'didn't mean anything by it.' It was made fairly clear that if I kicked up a fuss about a bit of casual touching, then I would be completely over reacting, earn an unpleasant reputation for myself - after all, nice girls didn't get groped in class - and force my friends to pick sides, which they didn't want to do.
So, I didn't tell anyone. Instead, this carried on. Until one day, when his hand managed to travel so far up my leg he was brushing against my knickers before I managed to grab and remove it. I had had enough. I told him to fuck off and leave me alone, then burst into tears. I was sent out of the class for making noise and creating a disturbance. The teacher never asked me why I shouted out, or what was happening. Later, when talking about it I was told not to make excuses for my own bad behaviour. No one was interested in listening to me about what had happened, or why. The important thing for me to understand was that swearing, talking in class and disturbing other students was never acceptable.
Needless to say, this gave K the clear message that he could carry on with what he was doing, safe in the knowledge that any attempts to stop him would lead to me being punished, rather than him. So, I refused to sit beside him. I was sent out of class again. I was told I must sit where the teacher told me to. I explained that I understood this, and would sit anywhere else I was asked. But I would not sit beside K. In the end, they moved me back to sit beside one of my friends. K was never asked what it was he was doing that made me so determined not to sit by him.
K and my friends considered the change in seating arrangements to be the end of the matter, with all issues resolved. The whole situation was hurtful and hateful, though paled in comparison with what else was going on in my life at the time.
The thing which brought this to mind was coming across a disgusting 'game' called 'Nervous.' This is a 'game' where school boys sit beside their female classmates and see how far up their legs they can move their hands before the girl objects or twitches, revealing her 'nervous' spot. I wonder now if what happened to me was part of a similar game. Apparently, this charming 'game' has been around for while.
When people ask me why I am a feminist, this is why. Because the casual abuse of peers is not acceptable, ever. It is not a game, it is not funny, it is not a compliment. It is a disgusting, vile act and the fact it happens in our classrooms, so often unchecked or unnoticed is an atrocity.
Thursday, 6 June 2013
A rant about street harassment
So, I've not posted for a few days because I've been having a tough time with my mental health again. When your thinking is clouded it makes writing just a bit difficult. Something happened to me this morning that I want to talk about. Mainly because it's not a one off incident, and if it happens to me I'm sure it happens to other people too.
So, after a few days of hiding at home due to high levels of anxiety I made myself leave the house this morning. I went for a walk, there happens to be a nice park not far away and with the kids at school it's normally pretty empty this time of day. Perfect, I thought.
There was a guy out walking his dog, he smiled as our paths crossed and I smiled back. It shouldn't be difficult to smile a greeting at a stranger but it can be for me. I did it anyway though and nothing awful happened. He carried on his merry way and after a few seconds sniffing my leg his dog did the same. It was actually kind of nice, as even brief interactions with other people usually are when I don't let the anxiety get in the way. It made me feel a bit better so I carried on my walk.
About ten minutes later, I came across another young man. He approached me and asked if I had a light. I explained that I didn't and moved past him. He followed me which caused a jump in anxiety levels. Still, I was determined to be rational. Maybe he wasn't following me, maybe he just happened to be heading in the same direction. A few seconds later he pulled even with me.
'Where are you going lady?'
At this point, I really didn't want to engage in further conversation with him. I wanted to get away from him. But how to do so? It's entirely possible that he was just a bit lonely and looking for some innocent conversation. I didn't want to be rude. I also didn't want to antagonise him. I hate confrontation and I'd gone out for a breath of fresh air not to get into an argument with somebody. I took a deep breath and answered.
'Oh, just out. I'm in a hurry, sorry I can't stop for a chat.'
Then I sped up. So did he.
'Don't be like that, I only want to talk. You're a very pretty lady.'
At this point I was on the verge of panicking. I just wanted to be away from him. I was starting to sweat, my vision was starting to blur and I was finding it hard to think about what I should be doing. I blurted out, voice a bit trembly.
'Please just leave me alone.'
He didn't. I headed towards the exit to the park, towards the nearby high street. It has lots of shops on it and is always busy. I don't know how much of this was a concious decision and how much was based around the fact that this was the nearest exit. The man carried on following me, making more comments about how I looked. As soon as I reached the exit and headed out into the high street he stopped walking. He stood in the gateway and shouted after me that I was 'an arrogant bitch and I should watch myself.'
Needless to say, walk ruined and almost in tears I headed straight home, repeatedly checking that I wasn't still being followed.
It's been a while since this happened to me, but every time it does it not only upsets me it stirs up lots of old fears and emotions. I can't help but recall all the other times it's happened. The time a guy followed me from the post office to my house. The time a group of teenagers in park followed me for a few minutes telling me how that if I didn't stop to talk to them they were going to rape me. The time a guy in car followed me for several minutes calling out to me, first in a complimentary fashion and then with increasing anger as I continued to ignore his advances. I was only 15 at the time and in no way prepared for such attention. It reminded me of going clubbing and rejecting the person who's just hit on me only to be met with derision and anger.
It reminded me of the time an ex and a gang of his friends followed me to college one day, referring to me as a frigid slut and a whore. For not sleeping with my ex and then dumping him when he became too insistent. It reminded me of another time when a different ex sent his friends to follow me home explaining that if I didn't go back to him, I could expect trouble. Telling me that I was disloyal and a slut for not wanting to stay with him and warning a male friend of mine to stay away from me, because I was a mental bitch.
In short, it reminded me of all the times men have acted like they have a right to expect and demand my time and attention, because they've decided they want to give it to me. It reminded me that so many men don't see me - or any other woman - as a person, but as an object to be admired, desired and owned by men.
I remember once complaining to a friend about this and being told I should take it as a compliment. Men found me attractive and this was apparently a brilliant thing. Really? I find lots of people attractive, it doesn't mean I think it's OK to harass them or hate them for not returning my attraction. I've never once thought that I was so awesome, the mere fact of my finding them attractive was such a huge compliment they should be grateful for it. It's never occurred to me that giving some a compliment should oblige them to accept it and then do everything I ask or want. But then, I've also had people tell me this can't have happened to me because I'm not pretty enough. Way to dismiss and insult me all at once, and to tell me that presumably I should consider myself lucky to experience harassment.
To be honest, I don't think it's even about finding someone attractive. To me it seems that like all other forms of sexual harassment, abuse and violence it's about power. The power to enforce your will over somebody else and it's never ever OK. Nor is it a 'compliment'.
I've had people tell me before that maybe these acts (or at least some of them) were innocent, that these men should at least be applauded for having the courage to talk to a girl they fancy. No. It's not about courage. I've talked to people I fancied, I've been gutted when it hasn't worked out for me. Rejection is never a comfortable feeling. I've never then felt the urge to call them names, or try to intimidate them into complying with my wishes. That's not courage, that's harassment. It's vile and it's not ever acceptable.
Nobody is 'lucky' to experience unwanted attention, particularly when it's threatening. No one has the right to follow you home (or anywhere else) uninvited, to threaten to rape you, to call you names and try to shame you, to close in on you and deliberately try to make you feel bad and uncomfortable. It's not OK and it's not a position which can be defended. It's not the same thing as asking out someone you like, it's not about that. It's about some people feeling entitled to treat any and all women as objects they can do what they want with. It's the same thinking that allows people to rape and otherwise harm women, and by trying to justify it you are telling them that's it OK to think of other people this way. It isn't.
Well then, rant over. I still feel sick and shaky but better for getting that off my chest. As ever, I hope somebody out there finds this useful in some way.
So, after a few days of hiding at home due to high levels of anxiety I made myself leave the house this morning. I went for a walk, there happens to be a nice park not far away and with the kids at school it's normally pretty empty this time of day. Perfect, I thought.
There was a guy out walking his dog, he smiled as our paths crossed and I smiled back. It shouldn't be difficult to smile a greeting at a stranger but it can be for me. I did it anyway though and nothing awful happened. He carried on his merry way and after a few seconds sniffing my leg his dog did the same. It was actually kind of nice, as even brief interactions with other people usually are when I don't let the anxiety get in the way. It made me feel a bit better so I carried on my walk.
About ten minutes later, I came across another young man. He approached me and asked if I had a light. I explained that I didn't and moved past him. He followed me which caused a jump in anxiety levels. Still, I was determined to be rational. Maybe he wasn't following me, maybe he just happened to be heading in the same direction. A few seconds later he pulled even with me.
'Where are you going lady?'
At this point, I really didn't want to engage in further conversation with him. I wanted to get away from him. But how to do so? It's entirely possible that he was just a bit lonely and looking for some innocent conversation. I didn't want to be rude. I also didn't want to antagonise him. I hate confrontation and I'd gone out for a breath of fresh air not to get into an argument with somebody. I took a deep breath and answered.
'Oh, just out. I'm in a hurry, sorry I can't stop for a chat.'
Then I sped up. So did he.
'Don't be like that, I only want to talk. You're a very pretty lady.'
At this point I was on the verge of panicking. I just wanted to be away from him. I was starting to sweat, my vision was starting to blur and I was finding it hard to think about what I should be doing. I blurted out, voice a bit trembly.
'Please just leave me alone.'
He didn't. I headed towards the exit to the park, towards the nearby high street. It has lots of shops on it and is always busy. I don't know how much of this was a concious decision and how much was based around the fact that this was the nearest exit. The man carried on following me, making more comments about how I looked. As soon as I reached the exit and headed out into the high street he stopped walking. He stood in the gateway and shouted after me that I was 'an arrogant bitch and I should watch myself.'
Needless to say, walk ruined and almost in tears I headed straight home, repeatedly checking that I wasn't still being followed.
It's been a while since this happened to me, but every time it does it not only upsets me it stirs up lots of old fears and emotions. I can't help but recall all the other times it's happened. The time a guy followed me from the post office to my house. The time a group of teenagers in park followed me for a few minutes telling me how that if I didn't stop to talk to them they were going to rape me. The time a guy in car followed me for several minutes calling out to me, first in a complimentary fashion and then with increasing anger as I continued to ignore his advances. I was only 15 at the time and in no way prepared for such attention. It reminded me of going clubbing and rejecting the person who's just hit on me only to be met with derision and anger.
It reminded me of the time an ex and a gang of his friends followed me to college one day, referring to me as a frigid slut and a whore. For not sleeping with my ex and then dumping him when he became too insistent. It reminded me of another time when a different ex sent his friends to follow me home explaining that if I didn't go back to him, I could expect trouble. Telling me that I was disloyal and a slut for not wanting to stay with him and warning a male friend of mine to stay away from me, because I was a mental bitch.
In short, it reminded me of all the times men have acted like they have a right to expect and demand my time and attention, because they've decided they want to give it to me. It reminded me that so many men don't see me - or any other woman - as a person, but as an object to be admired, desired and owned by men.
I remember once complaining to a friend about this and being told I should take it as a compliment. Men found me attractive and this was apparently a brilliant thing. Really? I find lots of people attractive, it doesn't mean I think it's OK to harass them or hate them for not returning my attraction. I've never once thought that I was so awesome, the mere fact of my finding them attractive was such a huge compliment they should be grateful for it. It's never occurred to me that giving some a compliment should oblige them to accept it and then do everything I ask or want. But then, I've also had people tell me this can't have happened to me because I'm not pretty enough. Way to dismiss and insult me all at once, and to tell me that presumably I should consider myself lucky to experience harassment.
To be honest, I don't think it's even about finding someone attractive. To me it seems that like all other forms of sexual harassment, abuse and violence it's about power. The power to enforce your will over somebody else and it's never ever OK. Nor is it a 'compliment'.
I've had people tell me before that maybe these acts (or at least some of them) were innocent, that these men should at least be applauded for having the courage to talk to a girl they fancy. No. It's not about courage. I've talked to people I fancied, I've been gutted when it hasn't worked out for me. Rejection is never a comfortable feeling. I've never then felt the urge to call them names, or try to intimidate them into complying with my wishes. That's not courage, that's harassment. It's vile and it's not ever acceptable.
Nobody is 'lucky' to experience unwanted attention, particularly when it's threatening. No one has the right to follow you home (or anywhere else) uninvited, to threaten to rape you, to call you names and try to shame you, to close in on you and deliberately try to make you feel bad and uncomfortable. It's not OK and it's not a position which can be defended. It's not the same thing as asking out someone you like, it's not about that. It's about some people feeling entitled to treat any and all women as objects they can do what they want with. It's the same thinking that allows people to rape and otherwise harm women, and by trying to justify it you are telling them that's it OK to think of other people this way. It isn't.
Well then, rant over. I still feel sick and shaky but better for getting that off my chest. As ever, I hope somebody out there finds this useful in some way.
Thursday, 23 May 2013
I have spent ages now trying to write this post and have deleted it several times. At this point I have no idea if I will manage to successfully get across what I want to say. Here goes, I'll give it one last shot.
I want children, I really do. I always have. I don't have any yet, partly by choice (the time isn't right) and partly because it's just worked out that way. I've been pregnant before and I would have chosen to keep that child despite the situation not being perfect but that choice was taken from me when I had a miscarriage. It sucks but there you go.
As a woman with mental illness I get hit with a lot of mixed messages about becoming a mother. On the one hand, my mental illness has interfered with my ability to develop a career and achieve any degree of financial stability. People keep telling me to sort out my career before I have kids. On the other hand, I'm not getting any younger and more often now people assume I've decided against having children or urge me to have them asap before the choice is taken away from me. Then there are the people who tell me having a child would be the best thing I could do. It would 'give me something to live for', a reason to get better (apparently my own happiness and well being aren't good enough reasons). There are also the people who tell me the opposite, that as someone with mental illness I should never have children. It wouldn't be fair. I couldn't look after them. I could pass on my mental illness.
Now I'm not saying that these aren't things I should think about, of course they are. I do think about them, a lot. Particularly the stuff about my mental health and ability to be a good parent. I just don't think that other people's opinions are the best way for me to decide whether or not I'm ready to be a parent. Really, there are only two people who's views matter in this situation. Mine and my partners, as we'd be the ones going on to try for a child if we decided that was something we both wanted and felt ready for.
So then, career and finances. In an ideal world I'd have a career I loved and a steady income. It's not an ideal world and I don't. I might never achieve those things. In terms of having children this provides me with a difficulty as I'd like to provide my possible future children with an ideal life. One that's stable, where I can afford to provide them with everything they need. It's certainly something I give a lot of thought to. Right now I'm doing what I can to change my working situation. Stable employment, in a job I can stick with for more than a year or two at a time is the goal. Though I'll be honest and admit that this isn't something I'm trying to do just so I can have kids. It's more for my own benefit. It would be lovely not to have to worry constantly about money. Not to feel worthless because I have spent years at a time unemployed.
Let me tell you about my mum. She was physically ill and unable to work. In my mind, she was still a good mum. OK, so I was abused by my father and she didn't know about it because she was ill and bedridden or in hospital much of the time but I still think she was a good parent. In that situation it was my father who was the bad parent. Incidentally, my father also had a long term, steady job for the entirety of my childhood. It turns out the ability to work and provide for your children doesn't automatically translate into being a good parent. My mum wasn't well enough to work, she didn't bring in much if any money. Yet despite her illness she was always prepared to listen to us kids. When she couldn't get out of bed to play with us she used her awesome imagination to invent games we could play with her. She was the one who went through our homework with us, helping us find ways to figure it out when we got frustrated. She was the one we went to to have our knees plastered, to talk about our day and to read a bedtime story with. She wasn't perfect but she was an amazing mum. It turns out there's more to being a parent than providing financial support.
What about age? Well, age bothers me. I'm less than a decade away from the point where I can expect my ability to conceive and carry a child to start on a sharp decline. I'm not convinced I'm less than a decade away from establishing myself in a career, managing my mental health to a point where I'm happy and feeling ready to take responsibility for bringing a person into the world. That upsets me, because I want children. That said, more than half a decade is still a long time. For all my worries and concerns it is possible to achieve what I want to in that time, and if it takes a few years longer so what? My granny was having children into her early fifties. Her last pregnancy was problematic, but that was due to a non- age related illness. I know other women who have had children later on in life with no problems too.
Besides, what are these problems I could face? An increased chance of becoming infertile. That would be sad, but not the end of the world. I want children and I would be very upset if I can't have them. There's lots of things I've wanted in my life and not been able to have however. I didn't want to be abused growing up and it has had a long term negative effect on my life, but I'm learning to deal with it. I wanted a very specific career since a fairly young age and it's taken me time to make my peace with the fact that for various reasons I can't have it. It hurt and it continues to hurt, but I've still managed to have a life beyond that loss. People are amazingly adaptive. If I can't have children that will hurt, it will take time to come to terms with but I don't think it's impossible for me to do so if I'm faced with that possibility.
I could be at an increased risk of complications. That's a scary thought, but as with anything else in life you weigh up the risks versus the benefits. If the benefits seem worth the risk, then you do it. If the time comes then along with my partner I'll look at the risks, make sure I'm well informed and then make a choice. What about increased risk of disability in my child? Well, again I will make sure that I am as well informed as I can be but I imagine I'll go ahead anyway. I don't think a person with a disability is a person incapable of having a meaningful, fulfilling life. I know that not to be true. So I don't see why I would decide not to proceed just because there is a risk of having a disabled child.
So, moving on then. Should I have a child because it will give me a reason to live, because I think it will act as a miracle cure for my mental illness or so I have a purpose? No. Really, just no. Children aren't 'cures' or 'fix alls.' Children are people. Plus, I have a reason to live: Me. I've spent a whole lot of my life feeling like I didn't matter, I'm only just learning that I do. So please don't ignore me when we're talking about my life.
What about the opposite view? Should I not have children at all because I'm mentally ill? There's a lot to think about with this one. I need to consider how I'd cope with difficult times - and I know that there will be some. I have to think about how my mental health could impact on a child's mental health, quality of life and so on. Given that there are times I can't look after myself I need to think about whether I could look after a child. Of course I do. So should anybody who is thinking of becoming a parent.
Let me ask you something. Do you think people who have ever been physically ill shouldn't have children? I mean, they got better but they might become physically ill again. It's a risk isn't it? Mental illness is the same. It can improve, people recover and/or learn to manage their symptoms and mental health. Not everyone who has a mental illness will be mentally ill for the rest of their life. Most people aren't. My mental illnesses have been with me for most of my life, though I think they are better now than in my teens. More importantly, I've gotten better at recognising when I need help or support or to reconsider my treatment plan. I know how vital a good support network is.
I've never harmed or endangered anybody else, despite my mental illness. I've managed to care for and look out for other people, even when I've failed to look after and care for myself. I recognise that there is a difference between doing this on a short term basis and doing it long term, but I don't think the fact I have poor mental health should mean I will automatically fail at these things.
So there you go. I am not 100% sure I have really said what I wanted to but I've done my best. My basic point is simply that as a woman I already face a lot of pressure and judgement about my choices regarding parenthood. When you also factor in the fact that I'm mentally ill that seems to increase a whole load. And I don't think that's fair or right. Having lived with mental illness for a long time I'm much better equipped to judge how it affects my abilities and choices than a stranger.
So believe, if I ever decide the time is right to have a child I will have considered all of these points and more at great length. I will have weighed up the risks and done everything in my power to reduce them, as will the person who decides to become a parent with me.
I want children, I really do. I always have. I don't have any yet, partly by choice (the time isn't right) and partly because it's just worked out that way. I've been pregnant before and I would have chosen to keep that child despite the situation not being perfect but that choice was taken from me when I had a miscarriage. It sucks but there you go.
As a woman with mental illness I get hit with a lot of mixed messages about becoming a mother. On the one hand, my mental illness has interfered with my ability to develop a career and achieve any degree of financial stability. People keep telling me to sort out my career before I have kids. On the other hand, I'm not getting any younger and more often now people assume I've decided against having children or urge me to have them asap before the choice is taken away from me. Then there are the people who tell me having a child would be the best thing I could do. It would 'give me something to live for', a reason to get better (apparently my own happiness and well being aren't good enough reasons). There are also the people who tell me the opposite, that as someone with mental illness I should never have children. It wouldn't be fair. I couldn't look after them. I could pass on my mental illness.
Now I'm not saying that these aren't things I should think about, of course they are. I do think about them, a lot. Particularly the stuff about my mental health and ability to be a good parent. I just don't think that other people's opinions are the best way for me to decide whether or not I'm ready to be a parent. Really, there are only two people who's views matter in this situation. Mine and my partners, as we'd be the ones going on to try for a child if we decided that was something we both wanted and felt ready for.
So then, career and finances. In an ideal world I'd have a career I loved and a steady income. It's not an ideal world and I don't. I might never achieve those things. In terms of having children this provides me with a difficulty as I'd like to provide my possible future children with an ideal life. One that's stable, where I can afford to provide them with everything they need. It's certainly something I give a lot of thought to. Right now I'm doing what I can to change my working situation. Stable employment, in a job I can stick with for more than a year or two at a time is the goal. Though I'll be honest and admit that this isn't something I'm trying to do just so I can have kids. It's more for my own benefit. It would be lovely not to have to worry constantly about money. Not to feel worthless because I have spent years at a time unemployed.
Let me tell you about my mum. She was physically ill and unable to work. In my mind, she was still a good mum. OK, so I was abused by my father and she didn't know about it because she was ill and bedridden or in hospital much of the time but I still think she was a good parent. In that situation it was my father who was the bad parent. Incidentally, my father also had a long term, steady job for the entirety of my childhood. It turns out the ability to work and provide for your children doesn't automatically translate into being a good parent. My mum wasn't well enough to work, she didn't bring in much if any money. Yet despite her illness she was always prepared to listen to us kids. When she couldn't get out of bed to play with us she used her awesome imagination to invent games we could play with her. She was the one who went through our homework with us, helping us find ways to figure it out when we got frustrated. She was the one we went to to have our knees plastered, to talk about our day and to read a bedtime story with. She wasn't perfect but she was an amazing mum. It turns out there's more to being a parent than providing financial support.
What about age? Well, age bothers me. I'm less than a decade away from the point where I can expect my ability to conceive and carry a child to start on a sharp decline. I'm not convinced I'm less than a decade away from establishing myself in a career, managing my mental health to a point where I'm happy and feeling ready to take responsibility for bringing a person into the world. That upsets me, because I want children. That said, more than half a decade is still a long time. For all my worries and concerns it is possible to achieve what I want to in that time, and if it takes a few years longer so what? My granny was having children into her early fifties. Her last pregnancy was problematic, but that was due to a non- age related illness. I know other women who have had children later on in life with no problems too.
Besides, what are these problems I could face? An increased chance of becoming infertile. That would be sad, but not the end of the world. I want children and I would be very upset if I can't have them. There's lots of things I've wanted in my life and not been able to have however. I didn't want to be abused growing up and it has had a long term negative effect on my life, but I'm learning to deal with it. I wanted a very specific career since a fairly young age and it's taken me time to make my peace with the fact that for various reasons I can't have it. It hurt and it continues to hurt, but I've still managed to have a life beyond that loss. People are amazingly adaptive. If I can't have children that will hurt, it will take time to come to terms with but I don't think it's impossible for me to do so if I'm faced with that possibility.
I could be at an increased risk of complications. That's a scary thought, but as with anything else in life you weigh up the risks versus the benefits. If the benefits seem worth the risk, then you do it. If the time comes then along with my partner I'll look at the risks, make sure I'm well informed and then make a choice. What about increased risk of disability in my child? Well, again I will make sure that I am as well informed as I can be but I imagine I'll go ahead anyway. I don't think a person with a disability is a person incapable of having a meaningful, fulfilling life. I know that not to be true. So I don't see why I would decide not to proceed just because there is a risk of having a disabled child.
So, moving on then. Should I have a child because it will give me a reason to live, because I think it will act as a miracle cure for my mental illness or so I have a purpose? No. Really, just no. Children aren't 'cures' or 'fix alls.' Children are people. Plus, I have a reason to live: Me. I've spent a whole lot of my life feeling like I didn't matter, I'm only just learning that I do. So please don't ignore me when we're talking about my life.
What about the opposite view? Should I not have children at all because I'm mentally ill? There's a lot to think about with this one. I need to consider how I'd cope with difficult times - and I know that there will be some. I have to think about how my mental health could impact on a child's mental health, quality of life and so on. Given that there are times I can't look after myself I need to think about whether I could look after a child. Of course I do. So should anybody who is thinking of becoming a parent.
Let me ask you something. Do you think people who have ever been physically ill shouldn't have children? I mean, they got better but they might become physically ill again. It's a risk isn't it? Mental illness is the same. It can improve, people recover and/or learn to manage their symptoms and mental health. Not everyone who has a mental illness will be mentally ill for the rest of their life. Most people aren't. My mental illnesses have been with me for most of my life, though I think they are better now than in my teens. More importantly, I've gotten better at recognising when I need help or support or to reconsider my treatment plan. I know how vital a good support network is.
I've never harmed or endangered anybody else, despite my mental illness. I've managed to care for and look out for other people, even when I've failed to look after and care for myself. I recognise that there is a difference between doing this on a short term basis and doing it long term, but I don't think the fact I have poor mental health should mean I will automatically fail at these things.
So there you go. I am not 100% sure I have really said what I wanted to but I've done my best. My basic point is simply that as a woman I already face a lot of pressure and judgement about my choices regarding parenthood. When you also factor in the fact that I'm mentally ill that seems to increase a whole load. And I don't think that's fair or right. Having lived with mental illness for a long time I'm much better equipped to judge how it affects my abilities and choices than a stranger.
So believe, if I ever decide the time is right to have a child I will have considered all of these points and more at great length. I will have weighed up the risks and done everything in my power to reduce them, as will the person who decides to become a parent with me.
Today I have been thinking about racism, sexism and other isms
It's difficult to think of yourself as someone who could discriminate against somebody else unfairly yet it's important to understand that this is something we're all capable of and have probably done at some point in our lives. Harder still to think that we might be doing it right now or will do it in the future. Yet to my mind it's really important to be aware that we can, to be concious of this possibility. How else are we going to catch ourselves thinking or behaving in ways that need to be challenged or changed?
Let me explain. In this instance I'm going to be using racism as the example. I grew up and live in a big city in the UK. I have friends and acquaintances of many different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. I certainly don't think of myself as a racist. I do however live in a society where racism is sadly endemic, a part of my culture and background that I've absorbed without even being aware of it.
Growing up, some of my close friends were subjected to racism. I've seen them called names for the colour of their skin and I've defended them. Even as a child it upset me when I witnessed such behaviour and I can't remember a time I didn't know it was wrong. But racism isn't only present when it shows itself so openly. It's a subtle pervasive thing.
As a teenager and young adult, walking down the road alone at night I was often quite anxious about being followed or harassed. I had good reason, it was something that had happened to me on more than one occasion. What it took me a while to realise and address was the fact that if I came across men of colour my anxiety jumped up a notch, in a way that it didn't when I was faced with a white man or even a group of white men. Why? Because at some point I had internalised and taken to heart the idea that men of colour were more dangerous than white men.
Where did that idea come from? No one in my family had taught me such a thing, but the general media did. Conversations at school with my friends did. I certainly wasn't alone with that fear. Yet I had no evidence to support it. Sure, it was all too easy to remember the times men of colour had followed me for a while in their car cat calling and making suggestive comments. Why did I find it so hard to bring to mind the time a white guy followed me all the way home doing the same thing?
I was raped in my teens by a boyfriend, who happened to be black. So that might have accounted for some of my anxiety. Only, I experienced sexual violence on a far more regular basis at the hands of my white father. I was sexually assaulted at school by two school mates, one white and one black. I was raped by an ex boyfriend in my late teens who was white. I had a stalker for a few years, he was white. Our house was broken into several times. On all but one occasion there was at least one white person involved. In fact, most of the objectionable or dangerous behaviour I've been subjected to the perpetrator was white. Yet my anxiety still increased when faced with the prospect of walking past or in front of men of colour.
This is racism, pure and simple. It might have been happening on an unconscious level but it was still there, still present. Once I realised what was going on I then had to work to change it. I had to confront myself with the facts every time I was faced with that situation and eventually, after several months it worked. It was only by being concious of what I was doing and what must be behind it that I was able to alter my thinking.
I had to do something similar in regards to my anxiety and paranoia around strange men in general, but that's digressing slightly from the point. The point is that recognising my racism in this instance wasn't comfortable. It didn't make me feel good about myself and the temptation to try and justify it, or ignore it as something I couldn't change was huge. I didn't though because I like to think of myself as a good person, and to my mind good people confront their prejudice and deal with it.
In terms of sexism, I've experienced similarly sexist ways of thinking and have tried to challenge them too. I still remember the times I felt uncomfortable around girls who didn't wear make-up or like clothes shopping because I had no idea what to talk to them about. The days before I realised that other girls were in fact people, just like me and might therefore have a white variety of interests outside of their appearance. I didn't find myself lost for topics of conversations with my male classmates, who I never discussed make-up with so it was silly to be limiting myself when it came to chatting with the female ones. I've been guilty in the past of thinking that if I ever became a wheelchair user I'd be miserable and hate my life. That was something I wasn't even aware of really thinking until I first got to know a wheel chair user and found myself being surprised at how happy they were. That there is disablism.
This is why I think it's so important to be aware of the potential we all hold to discriminate, to hold prejudices we're and let them affect our thinking and behaviour. It's important to fight this when we see it in other people, when we realise it happens on an institutional and societal level. I just think it's equally important to challenge and fight it within ourselves. It is not possible to live in a society which holds such prejudice without absorbing some of it ourselves. If we really want a society free of these things then we ourselves need to be free of them and that's only going to happen if we avoid falling into the trap of thinking it's impossible for us be prejudiced.
Let me explain. In this instance I'm going to be using racism as the example. I grew up and live in a big city in the UK. I have friends and acquaintances of many different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. I certainly don't think of myself as a racist. I do however live in a society where racism is sadly endemic, a part of my culture and background that I've absorbed without even being aware of it.
Growing up, some of my close friends were subjected to racism. I've seen them called names for the colour of their skin and I've defended them. Even as a child it upset me when I witnessed such behaviour and I can't remember a time I didn't know it was wrong. But racism isn't only present when it shows itself so openly. It's a subtle pervasive thing.
As a teenager and young adult, walking down the road alone at night I was often quite anxious about being followed or harassed. I had good reason, it was something that had happened to me on more than one occasion. What it took me a while to realise and address was the fact that if I came across men of colour my anxiety jumped up a notch, in a way that it didn't when I was faced with a white man or even a group of white men. Why? Because at some point I had internalised and taken to heart the idea that men of colour were more dangerous than white men.
Where did that idea come from? No one in my family had taught me such a thing, but the general media did. Conversations at school with my friends did. I certainly wasn't alone with that fear. Yet I had no evidence to support it. Sure, it was all too easy to remember the times men of colour had followed me for a while in their car cat calling and making suggestive comments. Why did I find it so hard to bring to mind the time a white guy followed me all the way home doing the same thing?
I was raped in my teens by a boyfriend, who happened to be black. So that might have accounted for some of my anxiety. Only, I experienced sexual violence on a far more regular basis at the hands of my white father. I was sexually assaulted at school by two school mates, one white and one black. I was raped by an ex boyfriend in my late teens who was white. I had a stalker for a few years, he was white. Our house was broken into several times. On all but one occasion there was at least one white person involved. In fact, most of the objectionable or dangerous behaviour I've been subjected to the perpetrator was white. Yet my anxiety still increased when faced with the prospect of walking past or in front of men of colour.
This is racism, pure and simple. It might have been happening on an unconscious level but it was still there, still present. Once I realised what was going on I then had to work to change it. I had to confront myself with the facts every time I was faced with that situation and eventually, after several months it worked. It was only by being concious of what I was doing and what must be behind it that I was able to alter my thinking.
I had to do something similar in regards to my anxiety and paranoia around strange men in general, but that's digressing slightly from the point. The point is that recognising my racism in this instance wasn't comfortable. It didn't make me feel good about myself and the temptation to try and justify it, or ignore it as something I couldn't change was huge. I didn't though because I like to think of myself as a good person, and to my mind good people confront their prejudice and deal with it.
In terms of sexism, I've experienced similarly sexist ways of thinking and have tried to challenge them too. I still remember the times I felt uncomfortable around girls who didn't wear make-up or like clothes shopping because I had no idea what to talk to them about. The days before I realised that other girls were in fact people, just like me and might therefore have a white variety of interests outside of their appearance. I didn't find myself lost for topics of conversations with my male classmates, who I never discussed make-up with so it was silly to be limiting myself when it came to chatting with the female ones. I've been guilty in the past of thinking that if I ever became a wheelchair user I'd be miserable and hate my life. That was something I wasn't even aware of really thinking until I first got to know a wheel chair user and found myself being surprised at how happy they were. That there is disablism.
This is why I think it's so important to be aware of the potential we all hold to discriminate, to hold prejudices we're and let them affect our thinking and behaviour. It's important to fight this when we see it in other people, when we realise it happens on an institutional and societal level. I just think it's equally important to challenge and fight it within ourselves. It is not possible to live in a society which holds such prejudice without absorbing some of it ourselves. If we really want a society free of these things then we ourselves need to be free of them and that's only going to happen if we avoid falling into the trap of thinking it's impossible for us be prejudiced.
Wednesday, 22 May 2013
Feel like I did something good today
Today I wrote a guest blog for The F Word. As part of my social anxiety I find it really difficult to judge whether anything I have to say is useful or relevant. I find it even harder to put my ideas out there for public consumption and therefore judgement. So, I'm really proud of myself right now. For starting this blog in the first place and for being brave enough to fight down the anxiety long enough to submit something to another, widely read blog.
I did it not because what happened to me was awful (though it was) but because I know I'm not alone. It's pretty well established by now that someone who reports sexual violence or other forms of abuse and isn't believed has their risk of facing similar in the future increased.
At the time I first told I was believed, but after that any further disclosures I made were dismissed as me being 'over sensitive.' The end result was the same as if I hadn't been believed in the first place. Then there is the fact that it wasn't just me experiencing that negative effect.
I've stated a few times now that as a result of speaking out about sexual violence other people often see me as someone they can talk to about their own experiences. I'm not going to lie, at times that's hard to deal with. I'm not always able to hear such things without becoming emotional, upset and angry in a way which isn't helpful for the person talking to me or myself. Yet over all, I kind of love that this is the case. That something I've said or done helps other people feel able to open up.
More than once I've found myself in the situation of being the first person somebody discloses their abuse, assault or rape to. When that happens, the person talking to me often wants advice on how to get help, how to report it or whether it's even a good idea to talk to people about it. I want to be able to help them and I like to think that I've been able to.
What hurts, so much, is when what should be a positive experience, breaking that awful silence becomes something else. When instead of being met with emotional and practical support instead that person's story is met with derision, when that person is assumed to be lying. Not because of anything they've done but because other people don't feel comfortable with the fact that it's possible for me to know so many people who've had these experiences.
I don't know why it's so hard for people to recognise that a person who talks openly about sexual violence is likely to attract conversation about sexual violence, and as an off shoot of that will meet other people who've experienced sexual violence. My hope is that my guest blog will help at least one person realise that this happens. That it's possible for more than one person in the same social group to have suffered sexual violence or abuse, and that it's possible for one person to experience sexual violence more than once in their life. It it does that, and they are then able to use that knowledge to provide support for people then today I've done a good thing.
I did it not because what happened to me was awful (though it was) but because I know I'm not alone. It's pretty well established by now that someone who reports sexual violence or other forms of abuse and isn't believed has their risk of facing similar in the future increased.
At the time I first told I was believed, but after that any further disclosures I made were dismissed as me being 'over sensitive.' The end result was the same as if I hadn't been believed in the first place. Then there is the fact that it wasn't just me experiencing that negative effect.
I've stated a few times now that as a result of speaking out about sexual violence other people often see me as someone they can talk to about their own experiences. I'm not going to lie, at times that's hard to deal with. I'm not always able to hear such things without becoming emotional, upset and angry in a way which isn't helpful for the person talking to me or myself. Yet over all, I kind of love that this is the case. That something I've said or done helps other people feel able to open up.
More than once I've found myself in the situation of being the first person somebody discloses their abuse, assault or rape to. When that happens, the person talking to me often wants advice on how to get help, how to report it or whether it's even a good idea to talk to people about it. I want to be able to help them and I like to think that I've been able to.
What hurts, so much, is when what should be a positive experience, breaking that awful silence becomes something else. When instead of being met with emotional and practical support instead that person's story is met with derision, when that person is assumed to be lying. Not because of anything they've done but because other people don't feel comfortable with the fact that it's possible for me to know so many people who've had these experiences.
I don't know why it's so hard for people to recognise that a person who talks openly about sexual violence is likely to attract conversation about sexual violence, and as an off shoot of that will meet other people who've experienced sexual violence. My hope is that my guest blog will help at least one person realise that this happens. That it's possible for more than one person in the same social group to have suffered sexual violence or abuse, and that it's possible for one person to experience sexual violence more than once in their life. It it does that, and they are then able to use that knowledge to provide support for people then today I've done a good thing.
Binary Gender, it's a problem
I know I've only just posted my piece about gender but I failed to mention something else I think is important. Here in the UK, as a society we only recognise two genders: male and female. Everything about our society enforces the idea of binary gender. Which is a problem because not everyone fits into those two categories.
Yeah, that's right. Not everybody feels comfortable or happy living their life as either a man or a woman. Some people don't identify that way. Maybe they feel like a mixture of both male and female, maybe they just don't feel like either. Maybe they do identify as male or female, but don't conform to current social expectations of either.
It turns out it's a complicated issue. Personally, I hate binary gender. It leads to and enforces the idea of gender roles. Women as one thing and men as another. It doesn't allow for individual differences and preferences. It makes it harder to do something which isn't considered normal or appropriate for your perceived gender.
I'm talking about things like men being home makers and stay at home dad's, or women working in male dominated industries.
I'd write more but I'm tired and worn out and I've been writing on other projects already today. So I'll leave this here for now. Mostly I wanted to acknowledge that not everybody falls into the neat little categories of male or female, and a society which fails to recognise or accept that is problematic.
A bit about gender and 'real' women
Just lately it seems like I've come across a whole new set of memes, adverts and such like going on about 'real' women. On the one hand I support the idea that women who aren't skinny are still beautiful and attractive. On the other I really don't think yet another way of telling people how they should look is the best way to get that message across.
There's another issue here too. By telling people that there is a way to be a real woman that's sending the message that anyone who doesn't conform to whatever ideal is being pushed isn't in fact a woman at all. Seriously, this is not OK.
In my view anybody who identifies as a woman is a woman. It's really that simple.
I was lucky, the gender suggested by my sex is the one I happen to feel comfortable with. Luckier still, I happen to have the physical characteristics that other people identify with being a woman. Namely, breasts, curves, a womb and ovaries. I've never had to fight to be accepted as a woman. So for me, these 'real woman' messages are upsetting because they just seem like another way to dictate how I should look, but that's it on a personal front. Of course, there are other discussions about being 'real' women going on. I'm thinking now not only of the aesthetic side of things, but debates about non cis women.
I particularly hate the idea that to be a woman you have to be born a woman. Gender is a social construct, often confused with biological sex. It's impossible to be born a social construct.
Now I want to talk to you about two women I know and how messages like this upset them. One of them, who I shall call B was like me, born female and identifies with the associated gender. However, when she was in her late teens she found out she was infertile. She couldn't have periods or carry a child because her reproductive organs hadn't developed properly. When discussions about 'real' women pop up, she tells me she still feels a bit uncomfortable. She identifies as a woman and lives her life as one, is accepted by people as one. But, when people start saying that in order to be a 'real' woman you have to have been born with the right set of genitals and reproductive equipment that's when she starts to feel bad. Is she only half a woman? Part 'real' and part made up?
Then there is a woman I am going to refer to as Anna (not her real name). Anna is a trans woman. She spent most of her childhood and adolescence being told that she was wrong. The things she wanted to wear and do were 'inappropriate'. As an adult, she decided to change her name and start living her life as a woman. Years later she's happy that she made the right decision. As a woman she feels right. Yet still she's faced with the message every day that her choices are somehow inappropriate and wrong. She's often banned from women's spaces and discussions about what it means to be a woman because apparently she's not real enough for those.
It sickens me, it really does. Anna faces the same issues that other women do, she shares many of the same concerns. She's an active feminist and advocates for women's rights and equality. She just didn't happen to be born with the right parts. But then again, neither was B.
To my view, both B and Anna are woman and therefore 'real' women, since both of them exist because they both feel most comfortable living their lives as women.
As I said earlier, it really is that simple.
There's another issue here too. By telling people that there is a way to be a real woman that's sending the message that anyone who doesn't conform to whatever ideal is being pushed isn't in fact a woman at all. Seriously, this is not OK.
In my view anybody who identifies as a woman is a woman. It's really that simple.
I was lucky, the gender suggested by my sex is the one I happen to feel comfortable with. Luckier still, I happen to have the physical characteristics that other people identify with being a woman. Namely, breasts, curves, a womb and ovaries. I've never had to fight to be accepted as a woman. So for me, these 'real woman' messages are upsetting because they just seem like another way to dictate how I should look, but that's it on a personal front. Of course, there are other discussions about being 'real' women going on. I'm thinking now not only of the aesthetic side of things, but debates about non cis women.
I particularly hate the idea that to be a woman you have to be born a woman. Gender is a social construct, often confused with biological sex. It's impossible to be born a social construct.
Now I want to talk to you about two women I know and how messages like this upset them. One of them, who I shall call B was like me, born female and identifies with the associated gender. However, when she was in her late teens she found out she was infertile. She couldn't have periods or carry a child because her reproductive organs hadn't developed properly. When discussions about 'real' women pop up, she tells me she still feels a bit uncomfortable. She identifies as a woman and lives her life as one, is accepted by people as one. But, when people start saying that in order to be a 'real' woman you have to have been born with the right set of genitals and reproductive equipment that's when she starts to feel bad. Is she only half a woman? Part 'real' and part made up?
Then there is a woman I am going to refer to as Anna (not her real name). Anna is a trans woman. She spent most of her childhood and adolescence being told that she was wrong. The things she wanted to wear and do were 'inappropriate'. As an adult, she decided to change her name and start living her life as a woman. Years later she's happy that she made the right decision. As a woman she feels right. Yet still she's faced with the message every day that her choices are somehow inappropriate and wrong. She's often banned from women's spaces and discussions about what it means to be a woman because apparently she's not real enough for those.
It sickens me, it really does. Anna faces the same issues that other women do, she shares many of the same concerns. She's an active feminist and advocates for women's rights and equality. She just didn't happen to be born with the right parts. But then again, neither was B.
To my view, both B and Anna are woman and therefore 'real' women, since both of them exist because they both feel most comfortable living their lives as women.
As I said earlier, it really is that simple.
Saturday, 18 May 2013
Getting ready for summer
So, I have become infuriated by the number of 'how to get a bikini/summer body' adverts that keep popping up everywhere. This happens every year. Along with the 'how to lose X weight in X weeks' adverts I find them kind of triggering. It's taken me years to be able to gain weight in the first place without having some kind of horrific melt down. Now that I have gained weight, it takes a lot of will power not to turn to unhealthy habits to get rid of it all again.
Learning to love your body shouldn't be a difficult thing, but it is for me and many other people out there. We are constantly bombarded with the message that our bodies should look a certain way. Hey, for that matter we're also sent the message that our bodies should be able to do certain things, yay for disablism. That's a whole separate post though. It's not exactly news that I don't like my body, but that's something I really want to change.
Lately, I've come across this awesome blog. It's pretty inspirational. I want to feel that confident and happy in my self and my body, I want to be able to wear the clothes I like and go outside without living in constant fear of what other people think. Without worrying if I'm pretty enough or slim enough to look 'right' in them. I'm not there yet, but I'm pleased to report that I'm making progress.
Guilty confession time, I used to visit pro-ana websites and chat rooms when I was really ill. Until recently, I still had a folder of 'thinspiration' pictures to remind me what I thought I should look like. Part of my progress has been in deleting that folder and looking around the web for more positive ideals and role models. Given that I fully support the idea of health at every size, and given that I have found any number of women of all different shapes and sizes attractive it's time to start applying those beliefs to me.
So, here's my plan for summer preparation. I am going to formulate a new exercise regime. Which is a tricky one for me as in the past I've tended to over do it. However this time my focus is going to be different. I won't be exercising to make myself lose weight. No, instead I am going to be concentrating on making my body more able to do the stuff I want it to. Regular exercise, coupled with food will mean I can do more awesome stuff without become exhausted. Like dancing for longer when I go out, spending the whole day outside in the sun with my friends. That's the goal here.
Next, I am going to dare myself to do a few things. I want to leave the house without covering up my upper arms. Sounds simple but it won't be. Given how anxious I get leaving the house at the best of times leaving it with one of my 'problem' areas exposed is not going to be fun. But, if I can do it once and realise that I'm more comfortable physically, maybe I can do it again. And maybe by doing it over and over I can learn to stop worrying about doing it. That's the plan anyway.
Finally, I am going to enjoy the sun. I love the sun and here in the UK we just don't see enough of it. Sunshine makes me happy, which is a huge incentive to get out into it. A really sunny day is often enough to make me brave the outside world. So, I'm going to use that to my advantage and get myself outside, in summery clothes despite the anxiety.
With luck, by the end of the summer I'll have taken some huge steps towards feeling comfortable in my own skin.
Learning to love your body shouldn't be a difficult thing, but it is for me and many other people out there. We are constantly bombarded with the message that our bodies should look a certain way. Hey, for that matter we're also sent the message that our bodies should be able to do certain things, yay for disablism. That's a whole separate post though. It's not exactly news that I don't like my body, but that's something I really want to change.
Lately, I've come across this awesome blog. It's pretty inspirational. I want to feel that confident and happy in my self and my body, I want to be able to wear the clothes I like and go outside without living in constant fear of what other people think. Without worrying if I'm pretty enough or slim enough to look 'right' in them. I'm not there yet, but I'm pleased to report that I'm making progress.
Guilty confession time, I used to visit pro-ana websites and chat rooms when I was really ill. Until recently, I still had a folder of 'thinspiration' pictures to remind me what I thought I should look like. Part of my progress has been in deleting that folder and looking around the web for more positive ideals and role models. Given that I fully support the idea of health at every size, and given that I have found any number of women of all different shapes and sizes attractive it's time to start applying those beliefs to me.
So, here's my plan for summer preparation. I am going to formulate a new exercise regime. Which is a tricky one for me as in the past I've tended to over do it. However this time my focus is going to be different. I won't be exercising to make myself lose weight. No, instead I am going to be concentrating on making my body more able to do the stuff I want it to. Regular exercise, coupled with food will mean I can do more awesome stuff without become exhausted. Like dancing for longer when I go out, spending the whole day outside in the sun with my friends. That's the goal here.
Next, I am going to dare myself to do a few things. I want to leave the house without covering up my upper arms. Sounds simple but it won't be. Given how anxious I get leaving the house at the best of times leaving it with one of my 'problem' areas exposed is not going to be fun. But, if I can do it once and realise that I'm more comfortable physically, maybe I can do it again. And maybe by doing it over and over I can learn to stop worrying about doing it. That's the plan anyway.
Finally, I am going to enjoy the sun. I love the sun and here in the UK we just don't see enough of it. Sunshine makes me happy, which is a huge incentive to get out into it. A really sunny day is often enough to make me brave the outside world. So, I'm going to use that to my advantage and get myself outside, in summery clothes despite the anxiety.
With luck, by the end of the summer I'll have taken some huge steps towards feeling comfortable in my own skin.
Thursday, 16 May 2013
I was raped whilst trying to avoid being raped.
Today I have been listening to blaming the victim, a radio documentary by Grace Chen. It's well worth listening too. Then I got into a conversation with some friends about it. Sad to say one them responded by claiming that women should be taking precautions against rape and that, in their opinion many rapes could be avoided if women were more careful. Naturally this made me very angry. I don't do well in debates when I'm angry and upset at the same time as I tend to become a bit incoherent and tearful. So, I let my other friends take over for a bit.
Now that I am a little calmer I want to talk about one of the many reasons that women 'being more careful' isn't a good way to prevent rape. For a start, it won't do anything to stop men being raped, so there's that. Also, as long as there are people vulnerable to rape rape will continue to happen. It's not possible to remove all vulnerability by 'being careful'.
When I was 15 I was raped by a boyfriend. I was alone with him in his house, we'd been drinking and I was wearing make-up. My parents didn't know where I was, they didn't want me dating and drinking at that age so I hadn't told them. All of this is fairly standard teenage behaviour but I can see that I had put myself in a vulnerable situation, by lying about where I was, by drinking, by dressing up nicely and by being alone with a boy. However, I have a few questions. Is it unreasonable to want to look nice for a date? Is it unreasonable to spend time, alone, with someone you trust and who is supposed to care about you?
Sure, I shouldn't have been drinking as I was under age. Sure I shouldn't have lied to my parents. Let's look at why I was doing those things, shall we? I had a bit of a drinking problem when I was 15. I had turned to drink as a way to cope with my constant anxiety, in a huge part triggered by the ongoing sexual abuse by my father. I didn't tell my parents where I was going because if I had they wouldn't have let me go out. I desperately wanted to be out because when I stayed at home I was at huge risk of being raped by my father.
I could have hung out on the streets but I had had it drummed into me from a young age that this put me in danger, of rape or other violent assault. I could have been with my female friends. Earlier in the night I was, we all hung around in a nice big mixed gender group. Only it was a school night and one by one people went home. My boyfriend was the only person I knew who's house I could stay at that night. Since going home put me in danger of being raped, this seemed like the safest option.
So, I drank in order to over come my anxiety so that I could bring myself to leave the house. I needed to be out of the house to ensure I wasn't raped by my father. In order to stay off the streets, which is a dangerous place to be, I agreed to go home with my boyfriend. This meant being alone with him, but he'd never previously raped me, I trusted him and he'd promised to always take care of me. So, everything I did - aside from wearing make-up to look pretty for my date - was designed to protect me from rape. Yet I still ended up being raped that night.
I wasn't raped because I wasn't careful enough. I was raped because my boyfriend wanted to rape somebody.
Now, I know this is only my story. Not everybody who is raped shares my experience. The point remains though that being careful didn't stop me being raped. The only thing which will protect people from rape is by creating a culture where rape is not acceptable. Part of that can be achieved by not blaming the victim, or telling people that they can stop rape by being more careful and instead focussing our attentions on the people who want to rape.
Now that I am a little calmer I want to talk about one of the many reasons that women 'being more careful' isn't a good way to prevent rape. For a start, it won't do anything to stop men being raped, so there's that. Also, as long as there are people vulnerable to rape rape will continue to happen. It's not possible to remove all vulnerability by 'being careful'.
When I was 15 I was raped by a boyfriend. I was alone with him in his house, we'd been drinking and I was wearing make-up. My parents didn't know where I was, they didn't want me dating and drinking at that age so I hadn't told them. All of this is fairly standard teenage behaviour but I can see that I had put myself in a vulnerable situation, by lying about where I was, by drinking, by dressing up nicely and by being alone with a boy. However, I have a few questions. Is it unreasonable to want to look nice for a date? Is it unreasonable to spend time, alone, with someone you trust and who is supposed to care about you?
Sure, I shouldn't have been drinking as I was under age. Sure I shouldn't have lied to my parents. Let's look at why I was doing those things, shall we? I had a bit of a drinking problem when I was 15. I had turned to drink as a way to cope with my constant anxiety, in a huge part triggered by the ongoing sexual abuse by my father. I didn't tell my parents where I was going because if I had they wouldn't have let me go out. I desperately wanted to be out because when I stayed at home I was at huge risk of being raped by my father.
I could have hung out on the streets but I had had it drummed into me from a young age that this put me in danger, of rape or other violent assault. I could have been with my female friends. Earlier in the night I was, we all hung around in a nice big mixed gender group. Only it was a school night and one by one people went home. My boyfriend was the only person I knew who's house I could stay at that night. Since going home put me in danger of being raped, this seemed like the safest option.
So, I drank in order to over come my anxiety so that I could bring myself to leave the house. I needed to be out of the house to ensure I wasn't raped by my father. In order to stay off the streets, which is a dangerous place to be, I agreed to go home with my boyfriend. This meant being alone with him, but he'd never previously raped me, I trusted him and he'd promised to always take care of me. So, everything I did - aside from wearing make-up to look pretty for my date - was designed to protect me from rape. Yet I still ended up being raped that night.
I wasn't raped because I wasn't careful enough. I was raped because my boyfriend wanted to rape somebody.
Now, I know this is only my story. Not everybody who is raped shares my experience. The point remains though that being careful didn't stop me being raped. The only thing which will protect people from rape is by creating a culture where rape is not acceptable. Part of that can be achieved by not blaming the victim, or telling people that they can stop rape by being more careful and instead focussing our attentions on the people who want to rape.
Why I don't like the whole 'survivor' thing
I mentioned in an earlier post that I don't really like the term 'survivor' when it's applied to people who have experienced sexual violence. Now seems as good a time as any to talk about why.
For those who aren't familiar with it, 'survivor' is used in place of 'victim' and is supposed to be empowering. Well, for me I have never found it to be empowering, quite the opposite. Whilst I was being abused I was most definitely a victim, calling me something else couldn't change that fact. Once the abuse stopped I certainly didn't feel like I had survived the experience, at least not intact. In fact, I took matters into my own hands to try and do quite the opposite. I tried to kill myself several times.
When people refer to me as a survivor it feels like they are making an assumption that I did something to survive, that I am exceptionally brave or heroic of something. Which was entirely at odds with my actual lived experience. It might be more appropriate these days, when I have a vested interest in being here and having a life. But here's the thing, for years before I reached that point people kept insisting that I was a survivor despite the fact what I felt like was a victim.
They kept telling me not 'let myself' be made into a victim. Which was an idea that struck me as ridiculous. I hadn't allowed myself to be made into a victim, I had been victimised by someone who had power over me. It wasn't something over which I had a choice. I understand that what people were trying to do was help me change how I viewed myself, to present me with an option that seemed more positive. Instead, they made me feel that by acknowledging the fact I had been victimised I was showing weakness and letting my father win.
The truth is, it was vital for my recovery that I accepted how powerless I had been. It was the only way for me to realise that I hadn't been in any way responsible for what happened to me, which I needed to do to let go of the guilt I felt about what had happened. It was only then that I could start the lengthy process of moving on. The constant pressure to relabel myself a survivor rather than a victim seemed designed to skip this step.
It also seemed to deny and dismiss the way I felt. The fact that for many years I didn't even feel like a whole person but rather a broken, fracture being. Which is not to say that all people who have experienced sexual violence feel the same way I do. Of course they don't, we're all different. For me though, the survivor label didn't fit and when I tried to object to it I was made to feel that I was doing something wrong.
Lets skip on a bit, to a time where I started to feel able to move forward with my life. Where I'd had extensive therapy and was starting to accept that my father was 100% responsible for what he did to me. Where I was no longer determined to die and had started to build a life for myself beyond the abuse. Such as now. As I said earlier, survivor might be a more appropriate label these days. A victim is what I was but it doesn't need to be who I am now.
Only, I don't want to be a survivor either. I don't want who and what I am to be defined in any way by what happened to me as a child. It's already the case that much of who I am has been shaped by my early experiences, as is true for everybody. I don't really see the benefit in granting my abuser any more power to dictate who I am. I'm not a survivor, I'm a person who happened to be abused growing up and who happened to live beyond that experience. I am so many other things; a feminist, a writer, a lover, a friend, a daughter, a carer, an activist, a goth. A person. That's how I chose to identify myself.
If other people find the label helpful then great, but please stop applying it to everybody who's ever experienced sexual violence. Not all of us find it helpful or useful, some of us find it quite the opposite.
For those who aren't familiar with it, 'survivor' is used in place of 'victim' and is supposed to be empowering. Well, for me I have never found it to be empowering, quite the opposite. Whilst I was being abused I was most definitely a victim, calling me something else couldn't change that fact. Once the abuse stopped I certainly didn't feel like I had survived the experience, at least not intact. In fact, I took matters into my own hands to try and do quite the opposite. I tried to kill myself several times.
When people refer to me as a survivor it feels like they are making an assumption that I did something to survive, that I am exceptionally brave or heroic of something. Which was entirely at odds with my actual lived experience. It might be more appropriate these days, when I have a vested interest in being here and having a life. But here's the thing, for years before I reached that point people kept insisting that I was a survivor despite the fact what I felt like was a victim.
They kept telling me not 'let myself' be made into a victim. Which was an idea that struck me as ridiculous. I hadn't allowed myself to be made into a victim, I had been victimised by someone who had power over me. It wasn't something over which I had a choice. I understand that what people were trying to do was help me change how I viewed myself, to present me with an option that seemed more positive. Instead, they made me feel that by acknowledging the fact I had been victimised I was showing weakness and letting my father win.
The truth is, it was vital for my recovery that I accepted how powerless I had been. It was the only way for me to realise that I hadn't been in any way responsible for what happened to me, which I needed to do to let go of the guilt I felt about what had happened. It was only then that I could start the lengthy process of moving on. The constant pressure to relabel myself a survivor rather than a victim seemed designed to skip this step.
It also seemed to deny and dismiss the way I felt. The fact that for many years I didn't even feel like a whole person but rather a broken, fracture being. Which is not to say that all people who have experienced sexual violence feel the same way I do. Of course they don't, we're all different. For me though, the survivor label didn't fit and when I tried to object to it I was made to feel that I was doing something wrong.
Lets skip on a bit, to a time where I started to feel able to move forward with my life. Where I'd had extensive therapy and was starting to accept that my father was 100% responsible for what he did to me. Where I was no longer determined to die and had started to build a life for myself beyond the abuse. Such as now. As I said earlier, survivor might be a more appropriate label these days. A victim is what I was but it doesn't need to be who I am now.
Only, I don't want to be a survivor either. I don't want who and what I am to be defined in any way by what happened to me as a child. It's already the case that much of who I am has been shaped by my early experiences, as is true for everybody. I don't really see the benefit in granting my abuser any more power to dictate who I am. I'm not a survivor, I'm a person who happened to be abused growing up and who happened to live beyond that experience. I am so many other things; a feminist, a writer, a lover, a friend, a daughter, a carer, an activist, a goth. A person. That's how I chose to identify myself.
If other people find the label helpful then great, but please stop applying it to everybody who's ever experienced sexual violence. Not all of us find it helpful or useful, some of us find it quite the opposite.
Friday, 10 May 2013
Since I've got my rant on, here's another one about victim blaming and rape culture
Before I get stuck in, it seems best to warn people that I'll be talking about experiences of sexual violence. Some people may find this triggering, so trigger warnings definitely apply.
Right then, as is probably clear by now I am a 'survivor' of sexual violence. I really don't like the term 'survivor' in this context but I'll write about that another time. What I want to talk about now is how the knowledge that I've previously experienced sexual violence has actively made it harder for me to flag up problematic behaviour or report further sexual violence. Let me explain.
In my late teens/early twenties I started being quite open about the fact I'd been abused growing up. I didn't want to be ashamed any more and it seemed to me that the person who should be ashamed was my father. Three major things happened as a result: a good friend took me to the GP so I could be referred for therapy, a whole multitude of people disclosed their own experiences of sexual violence to me and a whole lot of people discovered a new way to try and silence me/shut me down.
It's that last one which was problematic. Take for instance the time a friend came to me in tears and told me that one of our mutual acquaintances had taken naked pictures of her, without her consent. She didn't want to go to the police because she was ashamed. She did want to be kept safe from this guy. After much talking, we decided to approach this guy together and confront him. We picked a time when some other friends would be around as neither of us wanted to be alone with him. So what happened? Well, the general consensus was that the pictures had been taken with her full consent but since then my friend had changed her mind and was worried what people would think of her. I countered this by pointing out the often creepy behaviour of this guy and the times he'd been inappropriate with both me and my friend. That he often used his size and height to intimidate people - particularly girls, and that we knew previously my friend had turned him down on several occasions as she didn't fancy him.
All, in my mind fairly reasonable arguments. Why would a girl who didn't fancy him but found him creepy and intimidating suddenly agree to have naked pictures taken. The response? Well, it transpires that as someone who was abused growing up I was clearly way too sensitive to the issue and therefore saw abuse everywhere. Which meant my input should be automatically discounted. And my friend had clearly chosen me to go to as she figured I would be easy to get on side with her story.
I left that situation angry, hurt, disappointed and horrified. My friend left it pale and shaking, unable to speak. Later that night she tried to take her own life. Clearly, these were all the acts of a hardened liar who just didn't want people to think badly of her. I am pleased to report that since that day we've both gotten better friends. And that guy? The one I was clearly 'over sensitive' about and that she was lying about? He's serving time for having and taking photographs of young girls.
Now this was one incident, but it was a pattern that was repeated over and over again. Every time I expressed concern over someone's behaviour I was told that because I was abused growing up I wasn't a good judge of these things as I expected to see signs of abuse. At the time, I was young and insecure and it was easy enough for me to be persuaded that this was probably true. I am pleased to report that I no longer believe that.
The NHS runs expert patient programmes, because they recognise that the people with experience of living with a particular condition or illness are the best equipped to hand out advice and information on how to cope. When you're applying for a job, previous experience is often an asset - for many roles it's an absolute must. Choreographers have to know how to dance, so they have a working understanding of what they expect their dancers to do. Experience, it's a useful thing. So why, in this one situation is experience deemed a bad thing?
I absolutely understand the potential issues of hyper-vigilance but the fact remains: I have experience of sexual violence and this can be a useful thing. Because sometimes people feel more comfortable disclosing to me than they would to anybody else. Because sometimes I spot things in people's behaviour that flag up something is going on. Not necessarily abuse, but that somebody is struggling. Because sometimes I spot something which sends my spider sense a tingling, which tells me that someone isn't safe to be around or is hurting someone I care about.
Now, I'm not saying listen to me and me alone. What I am saying is don't discount my opinion or points out of hand. I'm not always right, I'm a person and people make mistakes. But I'm not always wrong either. I think I've been right more often than I've been wrong, particularly at the point where I feel confident enough to speak out. Even after all these years it's hard to shake the idea that I might be reading too much into something, so if I'm saying I have concerns that means I'm pretty damn confident they are valid.
There's something else that happens as a result of this weird idea that someone who's been abused in the past shouldn't be listened to, it leaves that person horribly vulnerable to further abuse. I was assaulted by a friend of a friend once. Not being one to keep quiet I told somebody else about it. They were really nice to me, all hugs and offers of support. Then I caught them talking about it to other friends. The gist of the conversation was 'you know Milli, she gets upset easy about this sort of thing. I'm sure it'll be fine once she calms down.'
Needless to say it wasn't fine when I calmed down, nor did I calm down any time soon.
See, this is an aspect of rape culture I don't think gets talked about. I mean, we talk a lot about the way sexual violence is dismissed, diminished or condoned. We talk about the way the victims are blamed for it, or how they aren't believed. What I don't think I've ever come across is an article talking about how having been believed in the past can make it harder to be believed in the future, how past experience - even that which has been acknowledged as true - can be turned into a further tool to silence those who would speak out about it. Or how it can be used by sexual predators to their advantage. So, I've written one. I hope someone somewhere finds it useful.
A bit of a rant about where responsibility for sexual violence lies. Trigger warnings for rape, abuse and child abuse.
So, speaking of lying here are some lies that society keeps telling me. Apparently I live in a world where if I leave the house wearing clothes that someone else could consider provocative or attractive I am inviting sexual violence. If I drink alcohol ever - especially if I get drunk - then I am inviting sexual violence. If I dare to socialise with boys then I am inviting sexual violence. If I express my sexuality then I am inviting sexual violence. If I go anywhere alone I am inviting sexual violence, particularly if it's at night.
Wow, that's a lot of things to think about if I don't want someone to assault or rape me. It would also make my entire life impossible. If I can't go out on my own I can't do my job. If I can't mix with boys, I can't do my job and I've just halved my social circle. But hey, I don't drink any more so as least I'm safer than I used to be, right? Wrong. Because regardless of what I wear or how I act I'm not inviting sex or sexual violence. If I was inviting you to have sex with me, trust me you'd know. Mostly because I'd be using my words to tell you that.
Shall we look at the rest of what's wrong with this idea that it's how you act, what you wear and who you're with that puts you at risk of sexual violence? Let me tell you right now, staying at home is not a sure fire way of staying safe. Quite the opposite, when most acts of sexual violence are committed by someone you know and trust. As a child and teen being outside was the one thing I could do to keep myself safe, as my attacker happened to be my father. At some point I'll talk about how being safer outside the family home than in it affected me but that's a post for another time. So, staying at home is not a guarantee that you will be safe.
What about you dress then, surely modest, unattractive clothing will keep you safe, right? It seems doubtful. I mean, as a ten year old I certainly wasn't trying to dress sexy and in my early teens I basically lived in baggy jeans and jumpers in an active attempt to hide my body. Still didn't stop me experiencing sexual violence. Weird huh? And it's not like I'm alone. Don't believe me? It's a problem all over the world. Besides, until I develop awesome psychic powers I have no way of knowing what every other person I'm likely to meet finds attractive so kind of impossible even if it was true.
So, if where you are and what you're wearing isn't what causes sexual violence maybe it's how you behave? No, it's really not. I've been drunk before and my friends (of various genders) haven't raped or assaulted me. I've been round drunk people before - including drunk people I found very attractive - and have managed not to assault or rape them. Oddly enough, I wasn't a heavy drinker at the age of 10. In fact, the only alcohol I'd ever tasted was that forced upon me by my father. Oh a sip of wine out of my aunt's glass one Christmas when I was about 6. I'll admit that I had a bit of a drinking problem in my teens, but it doesn't seem likely that it caused the sexual violence I'd experienced before hand. You can apply this to almost any other behaviour than drinking too. I've gone on dates without either raping or being raped by my date. I've gone out at night, whilst dressed in a deliberately provocative fashion with some male friends and not been raped. I've spent intimate time with partners where one or the other of us didn't feel like sex and no sex happened. Because neither of us were rapists.
So then, what does that leave? It leaves the person/people you're with. And in this point there is some truth. If you weren't with someone who wanted to commit an act of sexual violence then no sexual violence would occur. However, since rapist and abusers don't wear convenient signs around their necks to let us know about them it's not easy to avoid them. And whilst I could choose to believe that all men - and everyone else for that matter - is a rapist I'd live a very lonely and miserable life.
Here's the thing, there aren't any magic rules which can keep you safe. Even if there were, breaking them still wouldn't make you responsible for someone else's actions. So I don't care how you were dressed, who you were with or what you were doing - if you experienced sexual violence the only person responsible for it was the person or people who inflicted it upon you.
If you know someone who's experienced sexual violence, please think about this. Because if part of you believes they had it coming or were asking for it then you aren't going to be a good source of support for them. If you think that sexual violence can ever be partly the victim's fault then you are part of the problem. Do you want to be part of the problem? No? Then accept right now that it's never the victims fault, at all.
Best of all, there's something we can all do to help shift the burden of responsibility from the shoulders of the victims. We can try and make the places where we are safe. We can confront sexist and abusive behaviour when we see it. We can listen when someone disclose their experiences of sexual violence, without judgement (at least on them). We can teach our friends to do the same. We can remove the stigma of being a victim or survivor of sexual violence and apply it to those who perpetrate it instead.
Will that stop sexual violence? Sadly not, but it will start to create an environment where it's safer for people to disclose or report it and it's harder for sexual predators to operate.
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