Let’s Get Comfortable With Being Uncomfortable: A Discussion About Rape and Sexual Assault
It’s time to put an end on the silence of rape and sexual assault that has plagued our society.
It’s hard to hear it, and even harder to say it. Conversations about rape and sexual assault have always been an uncomfortable topic for people to discuss. Whether it’s someone who has been violated or someone who hasn’t, the word “rape” sets an unpleasant, very devastating tone that creates a blanket of silence. A blanket that needs to be lifted to expose what’s underneath: a violence that has become difficult to describe, unspeakable and unnamed.
This poses a challenge, the question of ‘Why?’ comes into play. Why is it so damn hard? Why is the topic of sexual assault so awkward and uncomfortable for most people? Why does it seem like people go out of their way to avoid conversations about sexual assault? For so long society has left this topic untouched to the point that it seems taboo. It seems as if this indiscernible silence has transformed itself into invisible silver duct tape masking the mouths of everyone, including the victims/survivors themselves.
The awkwardness and uncomfortability of these conversations stems from a culture of ignorance of rape and sexual assault. Many people are uneducated and oblivious to the topic. We all know, that rape is unlawful and immoral, and that forcing yourself on someone against their will should not be done. However, we don’t like to talk about it. We talk about more on how to prevent rape or stop it from happening in the first place rather than how to go about having a conversation with someone who has been raped and how to help them in that situation. We have limited language skills to discuss rape, simply put, we do not know what to say.
But this is where the underlying problem lay: conversations about rape are complicated and inadequate. The language and idea of rape is tossed around in society as if it were a myth or rumor. While rape is difficult to describe, coining a term to describe why it’s not discussed is less difficult: the “Not-Me-Syndrome.” While rape is sometimes relegated to a lesser offense, people tend to not talk about it unless they are personally victimized. Saying “that’s not me,” keeps the conversation about rape closed, open only to those who suffer the abuse. Furthermore, reliance on the syndrome leaves people reluctant to educating themselves on the topic and spreading awareness because they simply think they aren’t affected by it so it becomes unimportant to them. Finally, a new language of rape is created and many victims/survivors shy away from sharing their story simply because they don’t want to seek help from people who don’t like to talk about what happened to them in the first place. In other words, “the less specific [the] language, the more invisible the violence becomes”.
So to answer the earlier question: Why is it so hard to discuss this topic of rape? Since they don’t have the right vocabulary to do so, no one wants to talk about it. The language surrounding rape “reflects our culture” and makes it even more difficult to discuss or understand it. Thus making it “uncomfortable” and “confusing”.
In order to change this silence of sexual assault and rape, we must simply learn more about it. To be able to talk about rape and in order to help someone in the aftermath of a rape, the understanding of the language of this sexual violence is vital. In 2012 the United States Department of Justice changed the legal definition of rape to the “penetration, no matter how slight, of the vagina or anus with any body part or object or oral penetration by a sex organ of another person without consent of the victim” from “the carnal knowledge of a female, forcibly and against her will”. The FBI’s old definition of rape has widened and removes gender bias, acknowledging anyone can be raped.
While Hawkesworth’s theory emphasizes all women are seen as either already raped or inherently rape-able, it implies all men are a symbol of potential abuse. As a social symbol, the dominant male body was seen as a vehicle for violence. Neither the old or new definition fully grasp the concept of rape. The legal definition encompasses all people and includes any form of sexual assault, it does not place enough emphasis on the fact that rape is an act of violence used to gain power by forcing a person against their will through sexual intercourse; furthermore, it is psychologically debilitating and can cause physical damage to ones body.
Sharon Marcus looks into the language and politics of rape and challenges its functionality in her essay, Fighting Bodies, Fighting Words: A Theory and Politics of Rape Prevention. She explains that the “language of rape solicits women to position [them]selves as endangered, violable, and fearful, and it invites men to position themselves as legitimately violent and entitled to women’s sexual services”. Whether it’s a man or woman who is the rapist or person being raped, Marcus pinpoints an important theory which shows that the language of rape shapes the people involved as either vulnerable or privileged.
For instance, by calling someone a victim of rape shows that a person has had something taken away from them that they didn’t want to give up in the first place; it takes away their power. It also implies that this power was forcibly taken by someone; which gives them power. But as this rape language continues to grow and weaken its “victims”, it is clear that the word “victim” has transformed into the conquered. Deeming the perpetrator, a conquerer. These language used to label or describe the role of someone in a rape “solicits” people into a position or a predestined role that society has created for them. Thus, this rape language makes it harder for a person to see themselves as a strong survivor rather than a weak victim.
In conversations like these, the reaction to the information being conveyed is everything. When Dan Turner, father of Brock Turner who raped and assaulted a drunk young woman behind a dumpster, his father said “that is a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action out of his 20 plus years of life.” His goal was to “diminish the crime, denigrate the victim, point the finger away from the rapist and toward the person he’s raped”. Society has supported a culture of rape and this language reinforces victim blaming and trivializing rape. On top of the rape this woman’s character was assaulted and her state of drunkenness was criminalized more than Turner’s act of rape. Notwithstanding the evidence in her case, her ability to give consent was treated with disregard; she was not fully conscious and therefore it was rape. This rape language further victimizes her by labeling her mindset as fragile, weak, and broken (or in this case, drunk). This language took away her power and gave it to her rapist, as his light conviction left him untouched, strong, and conquering.
No matter how uncomfortable and how awkward the language around the topic may seem, we must get over the barrier that prevents us from having the conversation about rape and sexual assault. We must allow ourselves to learn more about this type of violence in order to find a way to give better aid and help out the people victimized and affected by it. This awkwardness and uncomfortability only makes it harder for us to move forward and achieve goals. We must eliminate the conception of rape being normalized and normalize the idea that rape is NOT okay, the person who is violated is not the one to blame, and embrace them if they decide to come forward. We must continue with prevention efforts and concentrate on what to do in aftermath of a rape and help the person who has been raped. We must stop looking at people who have been raped as victims, vulnerable to violence and in a sense ‘rapable’, but as survivors who have or will overcome a traumatic experience that doesn’t define them. It’s time to change the language in order to bring to light a conversation that is uncomplicated and appropriate to the situation.
