Blame, Inappropriately Directed

The heinous Maryville, Mo., rape case has reignited cultural tendencies toward victim-blaming.

Emily Yoffe, of Slate, admonished college women to stop getting drunk, citing a study showing that more than 80 percent of campus sexual assaults involve alcohol. One could reasonably assume that an equal or greater percentage of campus sexual assaults also involve men. Men are more likely rapists than women so, by Yoffe’s reasoning, women would be wise to avoid interactions with men.

But that’s not what she – or anyone else – is suggesting. Everyone knows that men, specifically, are not the problem any more than a few shots of Patrón are the problem.

How do we eliminate rape and rape culture? Certainly not by blaming victims or putting the onus on women to protect themselves.

It’s hard work changing a culture that values hyper-masculinity and treats women and girls as sexual property. It’s not so neat and simple as telling women to stop drinking, stop going out late at night, stop wearing short skirts. It takes courage to demand community accountability, and to change the cultural conditions that create rapists.

Media outlets may lack that courage, but the Ms. Foundation for Women stands strong in its belief that violence against girls and women can be made a rarity, rather than a shameful reality.

The first step requires treating rape survivors with dignity and respect rather than second-guessing victims' decisions surrounding their assaults.

Instead of “What did she expect to happen at one in the morning after sneaking out?” (as Fox News guest Joseph DiBenedetto asked about one of the Maryville victims), we should be questioning the motives of the perpetrators: “Didn’t they think twice about picking up girls late at night and sneaking them in through a window? Didn’t the boys know that alcohol would lower their inhibitions and cloud their judgment?”

And, especially, in reference to the prosecutor reopening the case: “What did the boys expect to happen when they raped these girls?”

Those are the questions no one is asking.

Aishwarya Dongre: Their Worries Are Justified

The Ms. Foundation for Women is celebrating Women’s History Month with a blog carnival featuring the voices and profiles of women across the country. This Month of Action is generously supported by our friends in Seattle.

By Aishwarya Dongre

I am 18, and I travel 30 kilometres one way to college. I am the ordinary girl with the zeal to lead the ordinary life, without being touched and felt up every time I travel by the bus or train. I walk down the platform stairways to have the man behind me brush past my bottom. I stand on the bus with the filthy one thrusting himself upon me. He doesn’t spare the old aunt who is sitting on the senior citizen’s seat on the bus. He doesn’t refrain from singing a vulgar song and smirking. No, he does not keep his hands to himself.

I live in a democratic country, in a city as posh as Mumbai. Until I was 10, my mom would discuss how girls at night were safe within the wraps of this city. Today, broad daylight ensures molestation within this “safe city”. My parents won’t allow me to travel alone at night; they won’t even trust my guy friends to drop me off after a party. They continuously monitor my clothes, not because we are a conservative Indian family, but because they don’t want me to “ask for it.”

I might scream at that man who feels me up, even if I am his granddaughter’s age. I tell the conductor to look into my eyes, not my chest, to talk. But my parents and society fear the worst with regard to me. They feel those men whom I speak against will track me down and might throw acid at me. Their worries are justified.

No, I will not blame the government. Nor will I blame the police, and make ridiculous remarks like, “We need police patrolling every corner of every city.” I express shame at the lowly and perverted acts and thoughts of the men of this nation. I wear a skirt, a short dress or a damn sleeveless top. I wear it for the pure joy of being feminine, not to seek attention or lewd remarks. No, I do not regret being an Indian. No, I will not hate Delhi or Mumbai. I regret belonging to a society in which women are just objects to play around with and provide sexual satisfaction. I grieve. Deeply.

Aishwarya Dongre lives in Mumbai, India.