We need to talk about RAPE

Rape

Rape is a dirty word. 

Rape is a word we don't say....unless we're making a joke about it. 

People scream 'rape' in high pitched giggling voices while being playfully tossed around by a friend. 

But rape isn't funny. 

Neither is the way we treat rape in this country. 

Rape in America

April is Sexual Assault Awareness month. I doubt you know that...unless you know a survivor...or an activist. You might never have heard the term 'rape culture' used by someone in a sincere manner. You may not know anything about the rape laws in this country or the process that a victim goes through when reporting rape. You may have seen something on the news about a rape and felt pity for the victim. Then again you may be like the thousands of people who hear about rape and immediately ask what the victim was wearing. Or if she was drinking. Or if she was walking alone, late at night. You might not mean to do so, but in asking these questions...you are promoting 'rape culture'. 

You see...in the United States there's this overwhelming idea that there is 'legitimate' rape. And we have this image of a masked villain who creeps up on unsuspecting virtuous women and robs them of their dignity. We think that if a woman is drinking then she was asking for it and if her skirt was too short she should have known better and that we shouldn't punish a young man for taking something he had no right to steal from a young woman because 'boys will be boys'. Don't believe me ? Ever heard of Steubenville? Oh right sorry...there a young woman was raped while she was unconscious by two athletes. They videotaped it and spread it on Twitter and other social media. Captioning the photos with 'drunk girl' and 'rape'. You'd think that this town would be unanimously disgusted and appalled right? Wrong. People stood up for these boys and said they should be given another chance. People humiliated and degraded the victim and her supporters. But would we give the same treatment if her rapists weren't popular athletes? 

But that's isolated you say. Wrong again! Ever heard of international denim day? Oh sorry. Let me see...in a court case involving a rape trial, an Italian court ruled the sex must have been consensual because the victim wore tight jeans and her rapist could not have taken them off without her help and consent. I'll just let that sink in. 

Rape in Media

So people think that rape is this big scary crime and we shouldn't talk about it. But look at the statistics. 1 in 4 girls will be sexually assaulted. 1 in 6 boys. You know someone who has been violated like this...even if you don't know you know. And they're not scared of some random stranger because unlike popular culture tells us, 7 out of 10 rapists will know their victim. 

Recently, rape has become a popular storytelling device. Every fractured young heroine is the victim of a heinous sexual assault and only needs some bright, young, hero to save her. Rape gets the glossy hollywood treatment. Like it's something you can just get over by telling yourself you're okay, rather than the daily struggle to get out of bed and face the world. The same world that tells you it's your fault for being raped. 

What about t.v and movies? There's a famous television show that is notorious for it's seedy plotlines. Game of Thrones is a study in depravity but at least they are honest about it. However, the April 20th episode pushed the bounds by changing a consensual sexual encounter from the books into a rape onscreen. The worst part of it is that the director was quoted as saying the encounter 'became consensual' by the end and the actor, when asked if it was rape said 'Yes and No' . Look...sex doesn't morph into rape or consent. It's one or the other. Yes means Yes and No means No. When the female character is saying "NO" three times and her rapist is saying "I don't care".  When people commented on stories about it they called it 'aggresive seduction' . That's RAPE! For goodness sake if we can't even agree NO means NO all the time, we're going downhill in a hurry. 

How am I supposed to tell my kids about this? 

We spend an inordinately large amount of time in this country telling young women how to avoid being raped. Don't wear this. Don't walk here. Don't drink. Don't x, y and z. We tell people that other's sex lives aren't their concern. We don't ever tell our sons not to rape because we think if we raise them right that it will never happen. We think that rape is this black and white concept. But rape is complex. Consent is not. 

I have a son. I have a daughter. I'm going to teach them both about rape. I'm going to teach them about consent. It kills me that I have to tell my daughter that people think if she dresses a certain way or isn't constantly on her guard that she will be a target for someone. It kills me that I'll have to tell my son that someone could do that to his sister. That more than likely, if it happened, that person would never see prison. But I have no shame in teaching my son what consent means. I have no shame in teaching him that he has a responsibility to himself and his future spouse and children. He has a responsibility to his friends and family to take a stand when we see situations that mean sexual assault can happen. It takes just one person standing up saying "This is NOT okay". Rape destroys people's lives. It takes one conversation to get consent. One question. "May I _____" . We teach that it's sexier to take first and assume that we have consent. We need to start having frank conversations about this. We need to teach our sons and daughters how to stand up for one another. We need to turn this thing around. 

We need to change how we treat rape in this country. 

Rape isn't funny. 

Rape isn't a joke. 

Rape isn't a dirty word. It's an act of power. 

It's Rape. 

One year ago today, I was rounding out my second day of labor. The funny thing about labor in the movies is that it just happens like THAT. The water always breaks when the woman is yelling or doing something important or in the middle of an awkward conversation. Truthfully, Evie would not have been born on this date without an induction. She was 39 weeks and 5 days old when she was born. It took a bunch of Pitocin, Cervidil, a Foley Bulb, and thank God (an epidural) to get here here. Some people would describe her birth as traumatic, but I don't think of it that way. I think she entered this world with ATTITUDE! 

Being Pregnant a 2nd time

I remember exactly when I knew I was pregnant again. I smelled alfredo sauce being reheated and retched. In fact, I couldn't eat alfredo sauce for my entire pregnancy. It made me want to die. Being pregnant when you have 1 kid already is different. For one thing, you can't lie in bed until noon in your pajamas and eat nothing but jalapeno chips and cookies for lunch. You have to feed, entertain and clean up after another human being. You can't start being a subpar mom just because you started cooking the next meal before you got the first one off of the table. I remember calling my husband when I found out and he was so Happy. All I remember thinking is "I don't know how I'm going to do this". 

It wasn't so bad once I got past morning sickness. Declan, bless his soul, was a trooper. He was content most days to play with his toys while I lounged on the couch. The need to go vertical was a rare occurrence. Having morning sickness in midsummer in Southeast Georgia should be a penalty for something. Not pregnancy. But something. We moved while I was pregnant too. It was terrible. We weathered deployments together, just me, my bump who would become Evie and Declan. I slowly started to realize that I could do this whole Mom of 2 thing. Really, I had no option. 

And honestly...labor wasn't awful. It was long sure. And hard. But I'd do it again. 

Evie

She came barreling into this world full of sassiness. I was so exhausted the first time I held her that I didn't register a lot of what they said to me. I remember hearing something about how she had dimples. Case closed. I guess we know who her parents are. We had an adjustment period for sure. Life for Evie has been a series of uphill battles. It took us 3 months to learn she was lactose intolerant. There were rivers of gripe water in those days. And then came the binkie I never thought my children would need. She also had to contend with an older brother who is a tornado of energy. She won him over from the first time she looked at him. And she rolls with the punches now. It took her a while but she learned how to give as good as she got. 

She does things slower than Declan did. She didn't sit up until 6 months. Didn't crawl until 8 or 9 months. But then two week after that she decided..."Eh...I'll stand up today and see what all the fuss is about". She constantly surprises us with her ingenuity. She has a zest for life that is infectious. She will cure a bad mood with one smile. I see in her already a solid core of strength and determination. If she goes down, she's going down swinging. But she will pick herself right back up and try again. She makes me believe that our children are the best parts of our souls mixing to create a new and wonderful person. 

So to my Evie Grace. My little love. Our Princess Pudge. Baby Sister. Angel Face. Num Num Cheekies Savela. Happy Birthday from Mommy, Daddy and Declan. We love you so much. 

Hate is a four letter word...so is Hell

Fred Phelps died yesterday. If you are reading this some day far in the future and you don't know or care about who he is or was, that's okay. He probably got a lot more attention while he was alive than he could ever earn in 10 lifetimes. His "church" and I use that term with sarcasm and skepticism, was responsible for more hatred and bigotry in the name of God than any other in our lifetime. Westboro Baptist Church picketed funerals and Gay Pride Parades. They tormented the families of dead soldiers and ostracized, shamed and humiliated multiple groups of people. They famously held signs proclaiming that "God Hates Fags" and told the grieving families attending the burials of service members that they were glad that person had died. They twisted and manipulated Bible passages to suite their sadistic ends and likely drove many to depression, suicide or perhaps beyond. During his lifetime, Fred Phelps espoused so much vitriol, violence and filth that my stomach clenches whenever I hear the name "Westboro Baptist Church".

He's dead. He died yesterday at the age of 84, much older than many of the soldiers whose funerals he picketed. Much older than many of the LGBT individuals who his followers harrassed on a daily basis. He is dead and people are reacting. I've seen expressions of pity, forgiveness, elation, rage and a whole lot of judgement. Even now, people of every shape and size are condemning the man to hell. If anyone every deserved damnation, they write, it is Fred Phelps.

Don't get your signs ready just yet

I expected this kind of thing to happen. I knew people would have mixed feelings. Make no mistake, I'm not upset he died. I didn't know the man. I'm not taking his side. I don't think the world is any worse off now that he is passed. I also don't think, as one commenter suggested, that the world is a little less hateful. It seems that all I have seen is an outpouring of hatred for this man. What is interesting to me is that this chorus of individuals (much like the Munchkins in Oz) are metaphorically foaming at the mouth to protest his funeral. I guarantee you that somewhere right now, some righteously angry person is busy shaping the exact verbage of their signs. I think we are going to see a very interesting demographic at that post-funeral party too. 

The death of someone famous always brings out two camps. We saw it when Amy Winehouse died, when Heath Ledger died and so on. There always seems to a wave of people willing to rip the deceased to shreds. There's also a more conciliatory group who just hopes that the world will move on. I guess that's my camp. I don't blame people for having some sense of relief at his passing. I expected and didn't bat an eyelash at the comments of 'good riddance' or 'I'm glad he's dead'. I was most pleasantly surprised by my LGBT friends. I didn't see a single hate-filled status or judgmental 'burn in hell' condemnation from any of my friends who are arguably the group most insulted by WBC. Mostly, I've seen expressions of pity, forgiveness and hope for his soul. 

But so so many people are saying 'Let's picket his funeral' or ' I hate him he deserves to burn in hell'. So let me just address the first. Ummm.....didn't anyone ever tell you two wrongs don't make a right? Or how about 'an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind'? If even a single person goes to that funeral with a sign spewing hatred, they will have singelhandedly vindicated every gay bashing, soldier hating, funeral picketing movement by that Church. Because if you have a right to do it, you darn well better believe they're going to keep on keeping on. And to the second point, I must have missed the vote for the "Judge, Jury and Executioner" position. Everyone has a right to his or her opinion, sure. But as heinous, disgusting and puke-worthy I find his speech, I don't hate him or hope he burns in hell. 

4 Letter Words

You heard me right, I don't wish him to burn in hell forever. My dearest hope is that he goes to heaven and sees all the people he condemned to hell there. I hope he spends eternity seeing how very wrong her was. In truth, I don't want to see anyone in hell. I wish hell didn't have to exist. I wish people weren't so bad that the rest of us felt they needed eternal punishment. Truthfully, I think Fred Phelps must have been a very miserable man. How hollow he must have been to need to fill that gaping hole with the suffering of other people. He filled his life with anger, bitterness and judgement. I pity him. I can't imagine holding on to all of that rage for 84 years. I can't imagine what kind of life he must have lived to imbue him with that much negativity. I think he is probably better off now that he is dead, the rest of the world notwithstanding. 

I don't want to see so many people so angry. I don't want to see so many people filled with hate for a man who is long gone now. I think now is the perfect time to begin healing. I would love to see signs at his funeral with "I forgive you" written in rainbows and glitter. I believe that regardless of where Fred Phelps is, he cannot hurt anyone again. Hell is a 4 letter word. So is hate. But then again so is LOVE. The truth is that we will never win against the Fred Phelps's of the world with hate. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said ' Darkness cannot drive our darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that'. 

I think of things differently now that I am a mother. I think about the world my children will inherit. For a moment today, it looked pretty bleak. Seeing an outpouring of hatred for any reason, even as valid as you might feel his death was, is not exactly streets of gold. I wish we didn't have a world where human beings could tear one another apart like Phelps and his church. I wish men did not twist God and his word to hurt others. Mostly, I wish there wasn't so much hatred. I am sure this anger will die down. In a few days, we will move on. People will begin to get over his death and find another topic to pontificate on. When my children get older, there will be a new villain. He will die and the world will again rejoice. But perhaps, our children will change the world. Maybe they'll fill it with so much love that the villain will have no room to grow and like a weed that needs sun a water, it will find no nourishment. Hatred needs hatred to grow. I'm not naive. I know evil will always exist. But perhaps...if we stop feeding it, it will have to work harder. Perhaps...we can keep it at bay.