Sex and violence was the name of the pilot for The Muppet Show, indicating that this was not Sesame street.
I thought I would start with something light, and you don't get more light than Kermit the frog, so now that we have done that, lets talk about rape.
Cat advised me against doing this topic, but some of the public discussions pushed my buttons, and I just have to. So, of course we hate rape. I repeat, I hate rape. Ok? Ok. I will now move slowly into some areas that are somewhat controversial. Men is no longer automatically blamed for rape and should not be, because, keep on reading, we have accepted the fact that men get raped too. Men rape women, women rape men, men rape men, women rape women, no animals will be involved.
However, men, as a rule of thumb*, are stronger than women and their general physiology and natural genetic baggage, make the men raping women scenario the most common. There is no question about how traumatic and life-changing experience this can be, no matter what gender and scenario we are talking about. It is horrible. So far I think we all agree.
So why do we have these huge blind spots when it comes to everything about rape? I'm sorry to say that common sense seems to have left this issue, and I also think that the feminist movement has done some damage in this case.
If we return to the commonly understood meaning of the phrase "It is always the man's fault, not the woman's" in these cases, I will agree, because the man is the criminal. The problem to me, is that this saying seems to make it ok for women and girls to behave, well, stupid. Women are indeed free to dress and behave as they feel like (within the law). That is such as it should be. No question about that. You have the right to do it. That doesn't mean that you should leave your good judgment at home when you go out. Yes, yes, I know, but listen here. I'm not saying that "she brought it on herself". It is the man who is in the wrong. But for the sake of everything that is good in this universe, try to minimize the risk you are taking. There seems to be some sort of stigma attached to saying this. It goes something as following – If you say that a rape victim in any way used poor judgment or question her behavior, you are saying that rape is ok. The sad fact is that rape happens. A lot. What if we treat it like any other crime, like murder or theft, and look at it again? I don't want to get robbed, I don't throw my wallet around late at night or leave my apartment unlocked. I don't go to parties with only strangers present, I try not to pick a fight when I'm drunk. If a gay friend gets frisky with his hands, I will tell him that this is not ok in a loud and clear voice. Maybe throw in a slap. You might say that this is different and doesn't apply. Well I think it does. But to be very specific, I would not go to a gay bar in leather pants and a fuck me-print on the back of my shirt, get totally hammered, go home with some random guy and ask to sleep on his sofa. I would call it poor judgment on my part if I did. If I got unwanted sexual attention in such a situation, I would still be the victim, because the attention would be unwanted, but I would try really hard not to put myself in said situation in the first place.
This is why I believe the feminist movement has done some harm to this issue. It has helped to raise awareness on the subject, which is good. It has also told all women that it is their right to not get raped, no matter what. This is very true. It is also incredibly naïve. You also have the right to not get murdered, but it could still happen. It should not happen but it does, saying it should not be so, doesn't make it true! Rape is much more common than murder. So logically, you would take more steps to avoid rape, than murder. Instead, some people seem to take none. They take anti-steps, they put themselves in the danger zone. Telling the rapist "only yes means yes, everything else means no", helps just as much as pointing out that murder is illegal as you are being stabbed to death.
Some men are bastards. Raised awareness and slogans have not changed this fact.** Most rapes are committed by someone who already knows the victim. This means that there are more bastards out there than one would think, or it just wouldn't be so. I suppose that this is a reflection of "the prettier the girl, then bigger the jerk syndrome", but this is a bit off topic and can wait for another time.
The betrayal from a "friendly rape" is monstrous, yet this is exactly what is most frequent. So that means that the danger zone and the comfort zone is overlapping. It is a scary thought, I know, but that doesn't mean we should lock the thought away behind bars, we cannot deny something to be considered just because it is uncomfortable. But what the hell is one supposed to do to, what steps can possibly be taken to protect yourself against people you know and maybe trust? Well, I don't really know, but I'd say you should be damn sure you really do trust them before you put yourself in a situation where something could happen. I'm not saying you should live your life in constant fear of everyone. I'm saying that you probably should use your instincts and intellect, take into consideration that men you know could be total bastards, and be careful.
If you the reader are a rape victim, I'm very sorry. If you take offence from something I've said, I'm also very sorry. I say what I say to prevent this from happening in the future, not as therapy for what has happened before. If you are not a victim and still take offence, you can make any and all complaints to my lawyer, Potatobeak the Cat.
I will end with a true story. This is the improbable tale of how I became the protector of muslim virginity in St. Petersburg.***
At the age of 18 I was in my last year of school, and as was tradition, all senior students took a trip to St. Petersburg in Russia to study history and culture aka getting totally shitfaced for 10 days or so.
How the small contingent of teachers managed several busloads of mostly drunk and horny 18-19 year olds loose in Russia, I don't know, but they seemed to have a good time too.
We stayed at an enormous hotel smack in the center of town, it was seriously huge. It had internal shops, not bars, well obviously there were plenty of bars there too, where you could buy vodka by the bucketful for a pittance. This was quite the opportunity for Norwegian students who were used to buy a pittance of alcohol for a bucketful of money. We would have epic parties at night and try to grab what sleep we could on the bus between the hermitage and the ballet. It was quite absurd.
Several other groups of students were staying at the hotel, including some Germans and Norwegian in the same part of the building as us. I got to know some of the Germans, and went to some of their parties.**** They were really nice guys. One night, some tour guide or teacher from another group was understandably pissed about our rampage, and as the most functional thinking (though somewhat drunk) Norwegian speaking person around, I had to act as a liaison for all the students and found myself put in charge of keeping some sort of order. Threats about hotel security were made. I still think they were the Russian mafia. Well, ok then. I want to grant the teacher who made me responsible for an entire floor of drunk multinational students while intoxicated in Russia one billion life points. Well done you.
Anyways, at one point I noticed a pair of feet being dragged around a corner. I decided to follow and saw the same feet disappear through a door. I had not yet seen The Hostel, but the imagination went berserk just the same, so I entered the room ready for anything. Turned out to be some Norwegian girls from another school, who had "kidnapped" some of my German comrades who were to drunk to stand. Three or four girls and three or four guys, all in a couple of big beds put together. The Germans came around and found themselves in beds surrounded by pretty girls. What followed contains a bit of fuzzy thinking on everyone's part, but in retrospect, it was just luck that made everything turn out ok. After a quick chat it was suggested that I stayed, not in a hanky panky way, but as a failsafe against it. Yes, I'm ever so lucky, I always get the fun jobs. The situation was a bit awkward, but hey, a free show is a free show and I was supplied with free drinks, so I stayed. The guys talked German to each other and English to the girls. The girls of course understood German but did not let this be known. It was quickly understood that the girls were leading the boys on and constantly moving the borders for what was accepted, but ended up saying no every time. The guys on the other hand wanted me out of the room in belief that my presence was the only thing keeping rock and roll from happening, which was sort of right. At one point they lifted me up and threw me out, but I quickly made my way back in and insisted that one of the girls told me what the blog was going on. And so she explained that they all were muslim, second generation immigrants from turkey or some such, so third base was out of the question. They wanted to try everything else though, and had so decided that I was a perfect chaperon to stop things from going too far. Oh humanity. I thought this was stupid and unfair play, as the Germans didn't know the whole deal, so I promptly told one of them. He was not happy, but told the other guys. The other guys of course still wanted me out. I then sent one of the girls to my room to bring me the box from beneath my bed. This box contained a replica of a medieval flail I had picked up in Stockholm. This made the girls very amused, but the guys reacted just like I hoped and freaked. After some negotiations we agreed I would keep the flail in the fridge (sic) and everyone would behave. So I spent most of the night getting drunk watching TV with my flail in the fridge while protecting the honor of some Turkish-Norwegian girls who wanted to explore their sexuality. Hooray.
The point of this story, besides being slightly entertaining, is that it was pure blogging chance that brought me to that room in time and space. I can of course not say what would or wouldn't have happened, if these people were left alone, but come on people, danger zone. Poor judgment. Just saying.
*Which has nothing to do about beating your wife with a stick. What so ever.
**And it probably never will.
***100% true.
****I was still able to speak broken German in those days, and that is hilarious when you are drunk.
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