Aziz Did Nothing (legally) Wrong
but does that make it right?
Once upon a time, I woke up in a foreign land, far away from home… with a practical stranger’s hand up my shirt. His coarse, hairy leg pinning mine down as he pressed his body up against my back. I have no idea how long this had been going on; I was only conscious for a few minutes of it. A few minutes that felt like several eternities. I stared blankly at the white, cement wall a couple inches from my face. In that moment, I was afraid of moving. I was afraid that he was going to hurt me if I confronted him. I probably would have laid there all night, barely blinking, barely breathing, if I didn’t have to pee so goddamn bad.
This is a story that I, personally, have struggled qualifying as acceptable or unacceptable ever since.
But… it’s not so bad, though, right? I mean… it’s not like he tried to have sex with me. It’s not like he continued after he knew I was awake. Maybe I had given him some signals while I was still awake. I mean I did go to his room (with a couple others) of my own volition. I was the one who laid down on his bed to rest.
All I know for sure is that I cried the whole next day, locked in my tiny, Romanian hotel room. I didn’t tell anyone upon returning to the States. And I’m pretty certain that I suffered from PTSD symptoms for at least a year after.
This brings us to the hot celebrity abuser of the moment: Aziz Ansari.
I’m just going to say it — I’m more pissed than usual about this one, friends. No, beyond pissed! Enraged. Maybe it’s because I was in a very minor hit and run this past week (I was the hit, not the run). Maybe it’s because I might be losing a passion project of mine soon. Maybe it’s just because it’s no longer my birthday, and now I just hafta wait around until the bleak, bleak winter finally loosens its icy talons from my tits.
This base layer of pissed-ness has possibly exacerbated how… “passionately” I’m reacting to this whole Aziz Ansari thing. I’m not about to educate you on what happened and what the reaction has been. If you’re reading this, it’s very likely you already know. But I will say that I’ve seen both men and women backing An-sari-excuse-for-a-human.
But saying that his only fault was not being able to mind read?! Because that’s the only way he could have realized his actions weren’t welcome. /sarcasm
To the men who are bravely coming forward and supporting this adorkable comedian, please hear this:
these movements are needed because of YOU
Because of the ignorance that you possess and perpetuate. The fact that you can’t recognize assault, even when it’s spelled out for you, means that probably not all of your sexual encounters have been entirely… consensual.
To the women who are following suit and defending Aziz: I ache for you. The fact that you believe that this was all okay? I can’t imagine what your own personal, sexual experiences have been like. How terribly you’ve been treated by men. And how you thought it was all acceptable.
The one thing I guess I can give his supporters is that legally? He did nothing wrong. But should that necessarily matter in this conversation?
Did You Know?
Women apparently aren’t really supposed to enjoy sex. Women aren’t supposed to take the lead. Women should be grateful that a man has chosen to pay attention to them. We would then, of course, owe sex to that man, if one is ever being so magnanimous as to be slightly polite in our general direction, am I right Advertisements and Porn?!
If I were in “Grace”s shoes, I’m not sure that I would have ever been able to call that experience assault. I would have reinforced the narrative that I, and many other women, have internalized. One I’m sure you’re seeing all over Twitter: that it was just a regrettable sexual encounter. The negative feelings being housed in my body were attributed to some shame fast pace and/or how little I knew this person. Oh! And just that general base feeling of shame being a female sexual being.
However! Seeing this narrative through someone else’s eyes, having the story be slightly displaced, a connection was able to be made in my mind. This — what had happened to her was obviously wrong. This was obviously assault. And this is also what has happened to me, in one way or another, time and time and time and time and time and time and time…
At the same time, a knot formed in my stomach. This knot soon burst into an ocean of fear, sadness, and anger. Not only because of this realization, but the fact that only now was I able to accept these assaults for what they were.
Amongst these more painful emotions, I also felt the faintest glow of gratitude. I was, and still am, relieved to finally feel validated in how disgusting I felt after so many sexual encounters. How violated. Broken.
In reflecting more on my sex life, it’s actually more difficult for me to pinpoint instances where I felt particularly safe. And I’m talking beyond the whole like “getting that intimate with someone for the first time” jitters. I’ve only had 3 guys in my entire life check in with me to see if what we were doing was okay. And I’m not saying that that is necessary every time, but… these 3 men shouldn’t be that exceptional, am I right?!
I’m grateful that all of this has enabled me to come to realize a belief I’ve apparently adopted for myself:
That men can EITHER be attracted to me OR be respectful of me.
Born from negative body image and the message that if a man really desires you, he’ll pursue you. He won’t take no for an answer. Because women are always playing hard to get. Men can just wear women down, if they’re that into them.
Bringing it all back to Ass-iz. I’m sure some of you people out there are still saying to yourselves “Okay. Sure. Maybe he should have stopped pressuring her and chasing her around his apartment. But, but, but, then why did she eventually suck his dick if she didn’t really want to?!”
Please hear me when I say this:
Going along with a sexual act doesn’t necessarily mean it is consensual
Whether or not this is a conscious decision. We, as mammals who have evolved from beings who constantly had to fear for our safety from like, tigers and shit, have developed certain responses: Fight/Flight/Freeze. I’m sure we all get the fight or flight. You fight back or you get outta there. BUT there’s actually a third response: FREEZE.
According to Psychology Today:
By default, this reaction refers to a situation in which you’ve concluded (in a matter of seconds — if not milliseconds) that you can neither defeat the frighteningly dangerous opponent confronting you nor safely bolt from it.
Go along, don’t fight back, and see if you can get it all over with. And soon. Let him fuck you so that you can leave. Go ahead and let him suffocate you with his penis as he grabs the back of your head by the hair.
Maybe we should stop asking or looking for her to have said “No.” Just like we hopefully have stopped asking “Well, what was she wearing,” and “But what she drinking?” Maybe we refrain from placing that burden on her/the victim. Maybe let’s shift the conversation away from what’s a crime — because there are tons of things you can do out there within the confines of the law that would easily land you in (insert organized belief system)’s version of hell.
I’ll leave you with one tidbit of wisdom that’s helped me a lot in my dating/sex life:
If it’s not “Fuck Yes,” then it’s a no.
