The Vagina Heard 'Round the World

ONCOMING RANT WITH ADULT LANGUAGE: YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

Last week, another writer I know brought up the subject of the latest election crisis on her Facebook wall. It was discussed amicably between a few women. Then a male friend of hers makes a statement: "Just asking you ladies a question, and I'm no Trump fan, but if you're one of his accusers, why wouldn't you collect your payday at the time he supposedly assaulted you instead of waiting thirty years?"

So many things wrong with that statement... *headdesk*

Certain behavior is so ingrained in America that most men can't even begin to comprehend what it's like for women being constantly analyzed for your "fuckability".

I mean it is CONSTANT from the time you are born. Sadly, many of our older female relatives are complicit in this training. We're told "don't do X/do Y so boys will like you" BY OTHER WOMEN from the moment we comprehend the English language.

By the time puberty hits, we're already brainwashed for the next Great Divide--the Madonna/Whore classification. You're a good girl if you tell boys "No." You're a bad girl if you tell boys "Yes." And if you told the boy "No" and he did it anyway, well, it was your fault, of course.

By the way, if you fall into the last two classifications, you now have no worth as a human being to men.

Oh, wait, we had no worth anyway. We're just objects to be fucked or not fucked.

So going back to the last two classifications we were talking about...

The last two classifications women are the equivalent to those blow-up dolls you can get at adult stores. You know, the anatomically correct ones? Since you have to pay for those, then the only reason women would complain about you fucking them is because you didn't pay them, right?

Which leads to the friend of a friend on Facebook who literally cannot comprehend that women might be talking these alleged assaults for some reason other than money.

In 2014, the U.S. Department of Justice estimates that only 30% of sexual assaults are reported. Friends, both male and female, in criminal law and law enforcement have privately told me they believe far fewer sexual assaults are reported. They base this on the victims often backing out of filing charges or testifying in court.

Why do these women back out? Harrassment, by their attackers, by their attackers' friends and family, by total strangers in the community and across the country, and sometimes even their own family and friends.

Don't believe me? Read about rape of a Stuebenville High School girl. (If you can. Personally, it makes me nauseated.) Then explain to me how an unconscious person can object or agree to anything.

But who ultimately paid for the incident? She did. She was called a whore and told that she deserved it for getting drunk and passing out. Video and pictures of her rape were taken and distributed. And to top it off, the hacktivist Anonymous outed her first name. It doesn't take a whole lot from that to find out who she is.

By the way, please tell me what money this kid got out of her assault? I'd really like to know because her parents probably could use the cash for having to move the hell out that town during the housing crunch.

Not to mention her therapy.

Oh, wait, I forgot. She's a whore so her value is worthless, right? Just like the time your dogs got a hold of that blow-up doll and tore it to shreds.

But wait! If a woman says "No", she's safe, right?

WRONG!

Twenty-two years ago, I met DH. We fell in love and moved in together...

DING! DING! DING! You're a WHORE for living in SIN!

We were already engaged.

You're still a whore, though there's some chance at redemption. Assuming you actually get married.

*sigh* Anyway, seven months before our wedding, DH was diagnosed with cancer. I've been through this story before, so I'll cut to the sexual harassment. Shortly after the wedding, my supervisor told me my employment would be terminated if I didn't sleep with him.

With a really slimy smile, he said, "And I know how much you need this job with [DH] not working, and he can't possibly be doing his husbandly duties."

(For the record, if you're in a relationship with someone who wears a colostomy bag, the wearer needs to be on the bottom. Those bag clips HURT when you're stabbed by one.)

Needless to say, my "No" did not go over well. I reported him. It's a small town, so when the entire company was dragged into sexual harassment training, everyone knew who reported who and why.

Funny thing, I wasn't the one who said a word to anyone except HR. He'd already bitched to friends about my frigidity and how I only got married to cover up my lesbianism.

When DH got the job offer in Houston, I was ready to leave. But the crap didn't stop there.

Oh, no, sir-ee, it did not.

You see, after I came forward, other women did as well, and that former supervisor was given the chance to gracefully resign from the company. Because, you know, us guys have to look out for each other.

So roughly two years later, DH and his partners are doing business with another company, and guess who is working there?

Knowing everything that had happened to me, DH decides he can suck it up and deal with this asshole. Until said asshole starts lying about business-related matters.

After a couple weeks of asshole's shit, one of DH's partners asks to speak with him and asks for his side of the story about the problems. You see, DH is smarter than Asshole gave him credit for. DH kept a detailed record of every contact, who said what, and the result.

Partner: "This sounds personal."

DH: "It is. He's jealous that I've slept with Suzan and he hasn't. By the way, would you like a copy of all my contacts with him? And I'm sure Suzan would provide you with a copy of her documentation of his harassment."

Neither of us knows exactly what happened after DH's partner has a phone conversation with the CEO of the other business, but Asshole disappeared shortly afterward.

Did I get any money out of this whole escapade? No, nor do I want it. I just pray that no one else has  to go through that shit.

So why did I come forward immediately?

I'd like to say I was brave or I had principles. No, I was just pissed. P-I-S-S-E-D!

Pissed that he would try this. Pissed that I was already incredibly stressed out between law school, DH's treatment, the goddamn wedding, and my normal workload.

The same kind of pissed I felt when my mother would give me the "don't do X/do Y so boys will like you" shit fucking CONSTANTLY!

But that kid in Stuebenville wasn't given a choice.

And maybe Trump's accusers didn't feel they had a choice anymore either. Or maybe they were pissed like me. To have their alleged attacker seeking the highest office in the land? What the hell would happen if he won? I don't know why they came forward now, but I have yet to hear they actually are seeking money.

And if anyone has followed Trump's career, none of this can be a surprise. He's as addicted to the camera and attention as much as the Steubenville football players convicted of raping their classmate were. In both cases, their actions and words have been recorded for posterity.

In the end, I don't care what you think about my "fuckabilty". Just remember that if you try to back me into a corner, if you go anywhere near my pussy, you're gonna get clawed.


This is me getting shit off my chest, so this will be one of those rare times where I disable comments. I don't care who you're voting for or why. That's between you, your Deity, and your own damn social media.

Hatred on the Internet

Invariably, someone will feel they need to argue, so I'm going to close comments on this post. The fact I feel the need to close comments says how bad the problem has become.

The hate is strong in the world these days. It's not just things like the burning of African-American churches across the U.S. or slut shaming of underage rape victims or harassment of members of the LGBT community. It's gotten to the point I don't read comments on my favorite sites. It's gotten to the point I've blocked several friends on FB. It's gotten to the point I don't even get on Twitter anymore.

There is very little compassion or empathy on the internet. There's been several studies including one published in Psychology Today. And if you look at the comments, well, the trolls kind of proved the author's point.

There's irony inherent in a system that can bring people together from around the world can also be used to divide us. People like Dylann Roof allegedly not only told friends about his intentions to kill blacks, but proclaimed his intentions on his Facebook page and his own website. What makes his threats valid and another person's nothing more than blowing off steam online, other than the fact Dylann allegedly carried out his plan?

I think the fact we don't know which is which online makes the problem more troubling. A friend shared a post online about rape vs. consent only to have a male she considered a friend PM her with a sexist joke. When she called him on it, he didn't apologize. Instead, he doubled-down, claimed she was being too sensitive, women like being sexually harassed if the harassee is good-looking, etc.

So how do we as a multi-cultural world deal with someone else's anger? How do we help these people to change their behavior into something positive?

The problem is we can't. Sometimes the beliefs are so hardcore, so ingrained, that to give these people an alternative sends them into an emotional tailspin.

Then there are the trolls who enjoy inflicting pain.

So how do you respond when you're not sure which party you're dealing with? I wish I had the answer to that.

If you respond to a troll, you're only helping him jack off. If you allow the hatred to permeate without a response, then folks on the edge start to think this behavior is acceptable.

The best thing that can happen is that the owner of the site monitors comments. That the owner explicitly states the comment policy. By having a website open to public comment, we are responsible for the level of discourse.

I've had people get mad about some of the things I post here. I've had people get mad when I've called them out for some of the things they've said in comments. I've had people get pissed because I deleted their comment. So be it.

The comment policy here is that you need to be civil, and yes, since WWW is under my control, then my judgment on what is civil rules.

This isn't a First Amendment issue. This is what my parents and grandparents called "using your company manners." If you can't behave in any public venue, maybe you shouldn't venture into that space.

Changing the Creepy Guy Narrative - WWW Edition

With all the talk of what constitutes harassment in the SFF community, the incredible Jay Lake had a link to Chris Brecheen's experience on BART. Go read it please.

Twenty-five years ago, I had a similar experience on the D.C. Metro. A young man was literally hitting on every woman in the car. They scrunched away from him, looking fearful. I think what pissed me off the most was the amusement on the male passengers' faces. I watched him ask the woman in the seat in front of me for a date. I watched her cringe and say "No."

More than than once. Just like every other woman.

So of course, he moved and sat down next to me. Before he could say anything, I said, very loudly, "No. I'm not interested."

On the plus side, he got up, found an empty seat, and didn't bother the three women sitting behind me. But you should have seen the ugly looks I got from every other passenger, including the women he had been bothering. You would have thought I'd kicked his puppy.

At the time, I was living with my cousin who was a police officer in D.C.

At the time, D.C. was the murder capital of the U.S.

At the time, women were expected to be nice to men no matter what, and as my cousin said, that was a recipe to get raped and murdered.

Maybe I've been lucky. I've projected an image of "Don't fuck with me" all my life. Originally, it was just to keep from getting beat up in the high school girls' bathroom.

In fact, one of the security guards at the D.C. office where I worked stopped me one day after lunch and asked where I had served.

"Served?" I know I had a puzzled look on my face.

"Yeah," he said. "Which branch?"

I laughed. "Never. Sorry."

He shrugged. "Oh, well, you walk like a vet."

So much for my mom's attempts to make me adopt a "lady-like" walk. My stubbornness and my super-cool cousin have probably saved my life more than once.

Now that I think about it, my mother tried to get me to adopt the very behaviors that would make me a victim. I resisted, but what about all other women in vulnerable positions? If we don't stand up for each other, who will?

I applaud Chris's behavior that day on BART, but guys like him are few and far between. We can't rely on white knights to save us, ladies.

We need to save ourselves.