A culture of rape

A few years ago, I was in a room filled with young women, and the discussion settled on sexual assault on college campuses.

As a matter of curiosity, we were asked to raise our hands if we had been victims of either a sexual assault or rape. All 11 hands shot up.

Not a handful, not many, but all.

That room, in essence, represents the rape epidemic that threatens the well-being of young women today. 

I call it an epidemic because it is precisely that. An estimated 20 to 25 percent of college women in the United States experience attempted or complete rape during their college careers.

Additionally, 60 percent of female victims reported being raped before age 18. Despite these alarming trends, we continue to condone a rape culture – an environment that through its objectification and degradation of women contributes to the problem of sexual violence.

The roots of such a dangerous rape culture are, to a large extent, observed in our cultural depictions of women’s bodies as public and easily accessible.

In 2008, for example, a state Court of Criminal Appeals in Oklahoma sided with a man who was accused of using a camera to take pictures under the skirt of a 16-year-old girl in a Target store.

The majority opinion stated that the young woman did not have a reasonable expectation of privacy in such a public place. The lone (male) dissenter noted that the ruling effectively approved an “open season for peeping Toms in public places.”

What is it about a woman’s body that allows it to be subjected to such public scrutiny? Much of it is ingrained sexism.

Gabrielle Reed, crisis intervention services co-coordinator at Middle Way House, said in an e-mail, “We live in a society that supports traditional gender roles and have media outlets that condone or overlook incidences of sexism and homophobia.”

It doesn’t help that sexual violence, despite the attention it receives (or perhaps because of it), is deeply misunderstood. The myths surrounding the crimes are as varied as the women affected, but our understanding remains driven by one central theme – that ultimately, the responsibility to protect oneself lies with the woman.

This is a rather disturbing assumption considering that we rarely tend to blame, say, a man who is viciously mugged.

But a sex crime somehow solicits a response that instantaneously places the burden of action, or the lack thereof, on women.

Stephanie Seweryn, president of Raising Awareness in Sexual Encounters, said in an e-mail that such a response is indicative of a self-defense mechanism, not just on the part of the victim but those around her as well.

She notes that “victim-blaming allows people to distance themselves from the situation, reassuring their psyche that under similar circumstances they would act differently and in some way ‘prevent’ the assault.”

The challenge then comes in articulating a reality where no one is immune from the very real threat of sexual violence.

This is not to say that women must restrict their daily activities or adhere to a “rape schedule,” which feminist blogger Jessica Valenti describes in an e-mail as actions built on the awareness that one could be attacked. Instead, the focus must be on presenting, as Reed says, a scenario that forwards the notion that “I am as much of a potential victim as anyone else.”

By the same token, we have to dispel many of the stereotypes surrounding rapists and other sex criminals.

If you’ve watched enough episodes of “Law and Order,” you’ve probably gathered that there are supposedly two kinds of criminals – white fraternity males or black men who hide behind bushes and attack unsuspecting passersby.

Neither category is accurate, of course, since about 90 percent of sexual attacks against college women are committed by individuals known to them.

Moreover, the danger in demonizing sex criminals and depicting them as representing the fringes of society is that such stereotypes make it difficult for many to accept that their friends could be such criminals. After all, we all want to believe that the people in our lives are decent, and such wholesome images run contrary to the popular depiction of rapists as evil or crazed.

Another problem in comprehending the issue of sexual assault is that the act is often
misunderstood as constituting the presence of force.

In general terms, however, rape or any other form of sexual violence necessitates the absence of consent. The inability to consent to a sex act is complicated by alcohol or the fact that the victim was perhaps, previously in a relationship with her attacker.

All these facts are independent, of course, to the conclusion that an assault did occur. Indeed, unlike what is often characterized in TV shows and movies, rape isn’t inherently a violent or forceful act.

So, where does IU stand on addressing the issue of sexual violence?

If present efforts are an indication, not very good.

To be sure, the Sexual Assault Crisis Service at the Health Center, for example, provides a 24-hour crisis line as well as counseling services, Debbie Melloan, a counselor at the Center, said in an e-mail.

However, a majority of the work revolving around sexual assault prevention remains student-initiated and community-driven.

R.A.I.S.E., for example, is composed of peer educators that give presentations in dorms and classrooms.

Additionally, Middle Way House operates a rape crisis center that provides 24-hour crisis intervention to victims of sexual violence. The shelter’s on-scene advocates, for instance, respond to the police department or area hospital emergency departments in the event of a sexual assault.

The IU Student Association rape crisis fund helps sustain many of these services, so it is vital to check the $3 crisis fund box when you register for fall classes.

A critical component of prevention remains effective punishment for rapists, another area in which the campus also lags far behind. Eva Feldman, who wished to use a pseudonym to protect the identity of her daughter, experienced this firsthand in 2006.

Her daughter was raped as a freshman living in McNutt Quad, and her attacker had previously been found responsible for felony battery. Despite this criminal history, he was allowed to return to campus housing.

Feldman, founder of CampusRape.org, said in an e-mail that while IU did no worse in handling the situation compared to other large universities, “the rape epidemic will not end until perpetrators experience real-life consequences.”

This opinion neatly illustrates the reason why we continue to live in a rape culture.

Unlike other crimes, addressing the issue of sexual violence requires a multi-pronged approach. It isn’t enough that we understand the definition of rape or the problems associated with victim blaming.

Prevention and punishment are all-too-important pieces that often get conveniently left out of the discussion. It becomes apparent then that eliminating all forms of violence against women requires a healthy interaction between the various student groups and organizations involved.

Moreover, there must be a willingness to engage men in the dialogue surrounding violence prevention and to look to them as allies, not foes.

Far too much is at stake to not let this be the case.