I had a conversation on the phone tonight with My mother while on vacation. We got onto the topic of feminism and why a lot of people are scared of that word. I brought up how some immediately relate the word to “man haters”. And I told her how I am DONE being offended when someone refers to me as one. I said ‘how can men go on abusing women, being hateful in so many ways and be in positions of power for so long (and abuse that power) and somehow when women try to stand up and change things, we are called “man haters”.’ (Long story short, i’m over that term and refuse to take it seriously anymore. If you men don’t want reasons for us to “hate” you, then I suggest you start changing your ways and standing up to men who are bad.) I taught her what rape culture means. And she understood after one example. Not because she is smart and intuitive (which she is) but because she is a rape survivor.
My mother was raped by two of her brother-in-laws, on separate occasions. One time she was a child, and one time she was an adult who was intoxicated. Not to mention an attempted rape by one of my father’s friends. Many people seem to view rape as something that happens when adult women make themselves vulnerable. But that is wrong, unfair and unjust. It’s as if people completely forget that rape is much broader than a woman suddenly being snatched up by a complete stranger in a dark alleyway. And you know what? That is just ridiculous.
44% of rape victims are minors, under the age of 18. I am part of that percentage. My first ‘real’ boyfriend in high school, the guy who ‘took my virginity’, raped me for a whole summer. I barely saw my family or friends. And I didn’t consider it rape until I went to therapy years later. I was only 16 years old. And the perpetrator was 20. I was too frightened to say no. The people who knew him, his friends, never bothered to tell me that he had already gotten in trouble for statutory rape. I was appalled and confused as to why I was never told this information until after he had done the same thing to me and I had already left him.
The truth is, rape culture is such a giant topic to discuss that I can’t even begin to describe why any of that above information relates to what that term means. But most of it does. And I hope whoever reads this can put the pieces together on their own. What we are learning here is that not all victims are adult women. What we are learning here is that we need to find a new, straight forward way of teaching people what rape means and how we can prevent it OTHER THAN telling women to change their ways, when in reality we should be telling our son’s (and daughters) NOT TO RAPE because it’s WRONG.

When I was in elementary school, I found out what rape was before I even knew what sex was. I remember being at chorus practice and hearing my name being called over the intercom. I was told to go to the school counselor’s office. I arrived and immediately was asked odd questions that made me confused. “Has your dad ever kissed you in places he shouldn’t have?” We won’t go any further than that but you understand where we are going with this. After the questioning, my Mother picked me up from school and began describing what was going on. My older sister, who has a different father than me, had been raped by my father. MY FATHER. Let those words sink in. I found out when I was in Elementary School, that my father was a rapist. I didn’t understand. What did that mean? I never received details until about 5 or so years ago, such as where he used to take her, how he would feed her alcohol and drugs at the age of 13, how it started when she was only 9 years old, etc….. but somehow my mom was able to explain to me what rape meant without traumatizing me. (In a way I am grateful she told me at an early age. I assume I would be in my 30's, messed up in the head still from finding out that info later in life. ) All I knew was that I would not be able to see my Father without someone from the state present and that he was a very bad person who did very bad things.
Eventually, he came to see me less and less. And then out of nowhere it just stopped, although it didn’t feel that way. He was gone and that was life as I knew it from then on. It became the norm. And you know what some of the most awful parts about this experience for our family was? My dad was never convicted. The police told my sister she was lying because she didn’t look them in the eyes when she told them what had happened (over a span of years). Child Protective Services dropped the case. I am not kidding you, I looked at the paperwork a couple of years back. I held that paper full of bullshit in my hands and read it. And once that happened, (the non conviction) my sister’s life spiraled out of control. Alcoholism at 13, cutting, a suicide attempt, PTSD, therapy, medications.