Don’t Downplay Sexual Violence — Unless She Chose the Man Over the Bear
The judgment not discussed — Part 2
Trigger warning: This article contains descriptions of rape and sexual assault that some might find difficult to read. I found it EXTREMELY difficult to write.
A few months ago, I wrote an article defending my preference for a man to a bear in a viral hypothetical that asked women if they would rather encounter an unknown man or a bear alone in the woods.
When first posed with this question, I had no idea my response warranted defending at all.
I did not see the hypothetical as a zero-sum game with a right or wrong answer. I saw compelling reasons for both responses, including the option for the man over the bear.
I did not know the question blew up into an online war about sexual violence in which responses are viewed as black or white, with little room for gradients of grays.
I’ve mentioned before that aside from occasional articles on Medium and LinkedIn, I’m not an active user of social media for many reasons. Therefore, I was unaware of the heated arguments raging on both sides of the debate in the social media ecosystem.
So it came as a surprise to me when several men responded to my article with a seeming sense of vindication. Many men praised my “sound logic” and said I “got the point.”
I didn’t know that so many men felt unfairly demonized by women’s overwhelming preference for a bear to a man. Admittedly, being a woman of color, I did sympathize on some level with men’s frustration at being subject to broad sweeping generalizations.
But with all due respect to men, especially the ones who took time out of their days to write kind words to me, in no way did I have men or their perspective in mind when I wrote my article.
I was defending my point of view as a woman and mine alone.
I also did not know that so many women felt gaslit and exasperated by men's apparent lack of understanding for their choice of the bear over the man and the implication that there are no valid, logical reasons for choosing the bear.
Some women read my defense as an attack on their preference for a bear over a man, which was not my intent at all.
It seemed that the hypothetical became a false dichotomy and left no room for nuance or context, suggesting that you’re either team bear or team man, no option C, no exceptions based on circumstances. More sinisterly, the developing argument gave a sense that you’re either for women or against women, which seemed to draw skepticism toward the preference for the man over the bear.
One commenter even tried to explain my preference for a man over a bear by mistakenly claiming I live in grizzly bear country. For the record, I do NOT live anywhere near grizzly bear country.
Disagreements welcome. Dismissal of sexual trauma, never.
I knew and even hoped, my article would inspire disagreement, which I welcome. What I take strong issue with, however, is the total dismissal of any woman’s experiences with sexual violence, or violence at the hands of men of any kind. Even if she had the gall to choose the man over the bear.
I mentioned thinking, “So now I have to pull out my #MeToo card to justify my preference for a man over a bear?” as part of the inspiration behind my other article.
Based on some of the more disturbing responses I received, it turns out that the answer is a resounding “YES!” And not just any #MeToo card will do.
A couple of commenters suggested that I have “merely” been harassed and objectified, not the victim of sexual violence. So of course I chose the man over the bear — because supposedly I don’t know what it’s like to be sexually attacked by a man.
My defenses to these false suggestions rose reflexively in response. “How the FUCK would they know??”
It was not enough for me to just mention my “experiences with sexual assault” in my bear/man article or in this article I linked.
If I do not go into gory detail about times I have been assaulted by men, sexually and non-sexually, it appears they don’t count. Not for purposes of the man/bear scenario anyway.
One person said, “I guess it’s nice to see some women have a life experience that isn’t as bad as most of the women in this society” and that my life has not been as hard as other women’s lives.
The absurdity of thinking an entire life can be fully encapsulated in less than 4000 words alone irked me. I was stunned, but I shouldn’t have been, by the complete lack of insight in this comment and the misjudgment. This is the internet, after all.
In my experience, when a woman references prior incidents with sexual assault, even without providing specifics, the response is usually something along the lines of, “I’m sorry that happened to you,” which is what I have told women who have shared their stories with me. There’s an unwritten rule that says a woman should not need to revive painful details of said assaults (unless she’s testifying in court). Her word alone should be sufficient.
But when you have the nerve to choose the man over the bear and publicly defend your point of view, sympathy and empathy fade, while judgment and borderline condemnation subtly surface.
After reading my article, one person who felt that I somehow dismissed other women’s experiences purportedly said about me, “How many times was she raped?”
Seriously?
How many times do I need to be raped? How many times do I need to be raped to justify my response to a hypothetical scenario?
Is once enough? Or does it not count if I don’t know if the incident technically fits the legal definition of rape and is “just” sexual assault?
How about getting punched in the face by a close adult male relative? Or getting my hair yanked by that same relative? Does that count, even though it wasn’t sexual? How about threats of violence from men? Do they count?
Other violations, such as getting stalked, sexually threatened, groped, or grabbed by strangers also appeared to fall below some arbitrary social media standard I was unaware of. I have experienced all of those sexual violations from men, too.
A couple of commenters compared what they thought they knew about my experiences to others and went into detail about the different ways women who chose the bear have suffered at the hands of men. In at least one instance, I got the impression the commenter was trying to educate me and convince me that the bear is a valid choice, too. That struck me as odd because I never thought the bear was an invalid choice in the first place.
These commenters seemed unaware that the grisly details they shared might be triggering to me. It was as if they had already decided I could not possibly relate to other women who have truly suffered at the hands of men.
The mere suggestion that I have not been a victim of sexual violence or that my experiences “have not been as bad as most of the women in this society” forced flashbacks into my mind that I had previously compartmentalized as a form of survival.
Awful memories of waking up at a friend’s house from a blackout without my pants or my underwear on, and a fresh field of hickeys covering my neck and my chest, resurfaced along with the raw vulnerability I felt at the time, and can still feel two and a half decades later.
Who had been inside of me? How many men were there? Was it just the two I can vaguely remember before I passed out fully clothed while one climbed on top of me despite my objections? Or were there others? How long was I exposed? What else did they do to my body while I was unconscious? Where was my “friend” through it all? Wasn’t she concerned to see me lying there half-naked while some strange man (or men) mounted me?
In 2016, just before the #MeToo movement began, Chanel Miller penned a victim impact statement that lit a fire across the nation. Ms. Miller’s powerful, personal prose sparked outrage over the light sentence her attacker received, and it ultimately led to the removal of the judge who presided over her case.
Ms. Miller was also assaulted while she was unconscious. The assault happened out in the open behind a dumpster. Two bicyclists witnessed the assault and stopped the attacker, Brock Turner, which resulted in his arrest and eventual conviction.
I was not prepared for Ms. Miller’s words to resurrect what I thought I had long buried. The international outrage and pure empathy that rained down upon Ms. Miller after her victim impact statement went viral gave me a sense of validation. Newscasters read Ms. Miller’s statement on air. President Joe Biden penned a letter in support of Ms. Miller. For years I had blamed myself for getting into a similar situation. A part of me still does.
To insinuate with no facts or knowledge of details that what I have been through isn’t really that big a deal compared to what others have endured reminded me of Ms. Miller’s experience with the probation officer who recommended a light sentence for Brock Turner. According to Ms. Miller’s victim impact statement:
“The Probation Officer has stated that this case when compared to other crimes of similar nature, may be considered less serious due to the defendant’s level of intoxication. It felt serious. That’s all I’m going to say.” (emphasis mine)
The idea that sexual violence is “ranked” and compared in severity makes me sick. There’s no other way to put it. The notion that what Ms. Miller went through, or what I went through, is not so bad when you compare it to others is simply revolting.
It is true, when I read Michelle Knight’s memoir “Finding Me: A Decade of Darkness, a Life Reclaimed: A Memoir of the Cleveland Kidnappings,” I admitted that I had not experienced the torture that Ms. Knight went through. To be kidnapped, beaten, raped on a daily basis, held captive, and kept away from her son for a decade is beyond comprehension.
When Ms. Knight was finally freed, she said something in her memoir that haunts me to this day: “Do you know what it’s like to wake up and realize no one is going to rape you?” My God.
Still, the severity of anyone’s experiences does not minimize someone else’s trauma. This is not a trauma competition. ALL of it is horrible.
Man over bear. An explanation continued.
Nevertheless, I still feel paradigms have formed to the point that it’s difficult for some to understand how a woman who has experienced violence and sexual assault would still rather encounter an unknown man than a bear in the woods.
As the title of my other bear/man article says, I’m an avid hiker. But hiking is not just a recreational activity for me. It is a spiritual practice.
I have centuries-long roots in southern Colorado and northern New Mexico that pre-date the United States. I have a familial connection to this region and venture into my homeland as a way to cleanse, shut out the noise of daily life, and unplug. If I quiet my mind and listen closely, I can hear ancestral wisdom, hear messages from the running creeks, the strong, tall trees that hug me with their leafy shade, and the massive boulders that have been around longer than any of us. I can feel the energy from nature all around me that daily life masks, and I feel a sense of connectedness to all of creation when I’m there.
When I am alone in the woods in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, meaning away from other human beings (because I’m never truly alone in the woods), I am in my sanctuary, just like a Christian woman might feel safe in her chosen place of worship, such as a church.
Encountering a man I don’t know in the woods is as normal to me as a Christian woman encountering a man she does not know in a church or other place of worship. Sure it’s possible to encounter a rapist in either place, but it is not the norm in my experience. The norm in my experience with encountering men in the woods is meeting fellow hikers, some of whom have actually helped me when I’ve needed help.
I have always had great respect and a healthy fear of Mother Nature and beings who are naturally bigger and stronger than human beings. I’m no match for a thunderstorm above the tree line or for an avalanche. I’m no match for a bear, a mountain lion, a moose, or an elk.
When I considered the scenario, my mind flashed to signs I’ve seen many times like the ones below that warn people what to do if they encounter a bear (or any other potentially dangerous wild animal).
I have never seen a sign that warns women what to do if they encounter a man in the woods. Though some might argue that maybe there should be(?).
That being said, I also do very much relate to the following reasons some women chose the bear over the man and felt the need to defend this choice as well:
- No one will care what I was wearing if I was attacked by a bear.
- No one will doubt that I was attacked by a bear.
- I won’t have to endure character assassination or invasive investigation into my private life if I’m attacked by a bear.
- I can get past what a bear might do. But I can’t get past what a man might do.
- Humans are not natural prey of bears. But some men see women as prey.
- Humans can be evil. Bears are not known to be evil.
- Throughout history, men have been a greater danger to women than wildlife have been to women.
- Some men can be far more unpredictable than bears.
- We cannot tell by external characteristics which men are rapists or want to rape women.
There is no right or wrong answer to the man/bear question. However, there IS a wrong way to respond to disagreement. And that is dismissing anyone’s experiences with sexual violence or violence in general.
You do not get to proclaim support for women while simultaneously diminishing another woman’s trauma. You do not get to uplift the women you support while dismissing another woman’s experiences with sexual violence or violence in general.
I had intended to increase empathy between women in my other article, specifically women with differing points of view, but it appears that I was not as successful as I had hoped.
I hope I have been more successful now.
