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Rape culture!

(Re-blogged from the talented http://boudiccasrevenge.tumblr.com)

Rape culture

Rape culture

Rape culture is when I was six, and

my brother punched my two front teeth out.
Instead of reprimanding him, my mother
said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?”
When my only defense was my
mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him.
Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.”
As if it was my sole purpose, the reason
six-year-old me existed,
was to not rile up my brother.
It’s starts when we’re six, and ends
when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man
is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to
not “rile him up.” Right, mom?

Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation,
my father says that women who get raped are asking for it.
He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City,
with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.”
When I used to be my father’s hero but
will he think I was asking for it? (will he think)
Will he think I deserved it?
Will he hold me accountable or will he hold me,
even though the touch of a man – especially my father’s –
burns as if I were holding the sun in the palm of my hand.

Rape culture is you were so ashamed, you thought it would
be easier for your parents to find you dead,
than to say, “Hey mom and dad,”
It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it.
I never asked for this attention, I never asked
to be a target, to be weak because I was born with
two X chromosomes, to walk in fear, to always look behind me,
in front of me, next to me, I never asked to be the prey.
I never wanted to spend my life being something
someone feasts upon, a meal for the eternally starved.
I do not want to hear about the way I taste anymore.
I will not let you eat me alive.

Rape culture is I shouldn’t defend my friend when
an overaggressive frat boy has his hand on her ass,
because standing up for her body “makes me a target.”
Women are afraid to speak up, because
they fear their own lives – but I’d rather take the hit
than live in a culture of silence.
I am told that I will always be the victim, pre-determined
by the DNA in my weaker, softer body.
I have birthing hips, not a fighter’s stance.
I am genetically pre-dispositioned to lose every time.

Rape culture is he was probably abused as a child.
When he even has some form of a justification
and all I have are the things that provoked him,
and the scars from his touch are woven of the darkest
and toughest strings, underneath the layer of my skin.
Rape culture leaves me finding pieces of him left inside of me.
A bone of his elbow. The cap of his knee.
There is something so daunting in the way that I know it will take
me years to methodically extract him from my body.
And that twinge I will get sometimes in my arm fifteen years later?
Proof of the past.
Like a tattoo I didn’t ask for.
Somehow I am permanently inked.

Rape culture is you can’t wear that outfit anymore
without feeling dirty, without feeling like
you somehow earned it.
You will feel like you are walking on knives,
every time you wear the shoes
you smashed his nose in with.
Imaginary blood on the bottom of your heels,
thinking, maybe this will heal me.
Those shoes are your freedom,
But the remains of a life long fight.
You will always carry your heart,
your passion, your absolute will to live,
but also the shame and the guilt and the pain.
I saved myself but I still feel like I’m walking on knives.

Rape culture is “Stefanie, you weren’t really raped, you were
one of the lucky ones.”
Because my body wasn’t penetrated by a penis,
but fingers instead, that I should feel lucky.
I should get on my hands and knees and say, thank you.
Thank you for being so kind.
Rape culture is “things could have been worse.”
“It’s been a month, Stefanie. Get out of bed.”
“You’ll have to get over this eventually.”
“Don’t let it ruin your life.”
Rape culture is he told you that after he touched you,
no one would ever want you again.
And you believed him.

Rape culture is telling your daughters not to get raped,
instead of teaching your sons how to treat all women.
That sex is not a right. You are not entitled to this.
The worst possible thing you can call a woman is a
slut, a whore, a bitch.
The worst possible thing you can call a man is a
bitch, a pussy, a girl.
The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl.
The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl.
Being a woman is the ultimate rejection,
the ultimate dismissal of strength and power, the
absolute insult.
When I have a daughter,
I will tell her that she is not
an insult.

When I have a daughter, she will know how to fight.
I will look at her like the sun when she comes home
with anger in her fists.
Because we are human beings and we do not
always have to take what we are given.
They all tell her not to fight fire with fire,
but that is only because they are afraid of her flames.
I will teach her the value of the word “no” so that
when she hears it, she will not question it.
My daughter,
Don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love
you have for yourself
and the lengths you go to preserve it.

My daughter,
I am alive because of the fierce love I have
for myself, and because my father taught me
to protect that.
He taught me that sometimes, I have to do
my own bit of saving, pick myself off the
ground and wipe the dirt off my face,
because at the end of the day,
there is only me.
I am alive because my mother taught me
to love myself.
She taught me that I am an enigma – a
mystery, a paradox, an unfinished masterpiece and
I must love myself enough to see how I turn out.
I am alive because even beaten, voiceless, and back
against the wall, I knew there was an ounce of me
worth fighting for.
And for that, I thank my parents.

Instead of teaching my daughter to cover herself up,
I will show her how to be exposed.
Because no is not “convince me”.
No is not “I want it”.
You call me,
“Little lady, pretty girl, beautiful woman.”
But I am not any of these things for you.
I am exploding light,
my daughter will be exploding light,
and you,
better cover your eyes.

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A case has been filed: Its a normal day

The Anna Nagar K4 police station has registered the case under Section 420 of the Indian Penal Code (IPC)….: The reporter has a word count and he’s falling short

A case has been filed. Further investigations are on: The sub-editor need a few more words for the story to align

Police are on the lookout: All constables in the station have been informed about it

Police have spread a dragnet: All city police stations have been faxed

Asst Police Comissioner ….has been deputed to handle the case: They’ve got orders from the top brass that this case is serious business

Police teams have been formed: A ruse to get the names of all the guys working on the case into the pages of a vernacular newspaper

The policeman was injured by the accused: They need something to accuse him with, so the policeman conveniently gets injured

Encounter: Police let the accused escape to shoot him down

sexually assualted: The police know its a rape, but they’d prefer to downplay it

The victim had many boyfriends: Its easier to close the case, if you can blame it on the girl

A mysterious death: We’d like to create a little hype, to get a little credit

The victim ‘claimed’: The reporter prefers the police version

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Wiki on Sonia Gandhi: Born Edvige Antonia Albina Maino, Ms Gandhi is an Indian politician, the President of the Indian National Congress and the widow of former Prime Minister of India, Rajiv Gandhi. She is the Chairperson of the ruling United Progressive Alliance in the Lok Sabha, and the leader of the Congress Parliamentary Party. She was named the third most powerful woman in the world by Forbes magazine in 2004.

Sonia on why they opposed the Left in Kerala, while supporting the Left in West Bengal: “The biggest challenge at the national level is to defeat communal forces for which the support of the Left parties was essential but the party is opposed to the Left in Kerala because the UPA’s aim is to ensure economic development and social harmony.”

The smart aleck: Last, I heard the Congress, turned a blind eye to Nandigram to ensure the economic development of the Tata Group and disturb the social harmony of displaced farmers in Nandigram

Sonia Gandhi on dynasty politics: “I belong to a political family.”

The smart aleck: Right ho! Her mother-in-law, Her father-in-law, Her husband, Her son, Her daughter…I missed someone. Yeah! Its herself, – the woman behind the sucess of Mr Manmohan Singh’s puppet act in Parliament

Sonia Gandhi on back-seat politics: “I don’t disown our responsibility and my responsibility as Prime Minister.”

The smart aleck: Proof, that MPs prefer to seek favours at 10, Janpath (residence of Cong prez Sonia Gandhi) instead of 7, Race Course Road (the PM’s residence)

Sonia Gandhi’s attempt at poetry:“Together we can face any challenges as deep as the ocean and as high as the sky.”

Sonia Gandhi on Dr Singh:”My complaint with Dr Singh is that he sometimes does not highlight his achievements enough.”

The smart aleck: Yeah! Tough luck for the poor chap, who has to say “Salaam, Madam” hundred times a day

Sonia Gandhi after women protested naked with banners crying “Indian Army men rape us”:“I have issued instructions that while handling the situation in Upper Assam innocent civilians should not be harassed.”

The smart aleck: And she’s not only the de-facto Prime Minister, she’s also the de-facto President. She gets to order the Indian Army around.

Sonia Gandhi: “I am resigning my post in the Parliament. I have done this because I think it is the right thing to do.”

The smart aleck: And then did a very smart thing, by contesting for the same post in the elections that were held, because she resigned the post in the first place.

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