"In the U.S. every year, 207,754 people are raped, so there are also a whole bunch of people committing those rapes. What that means is that any comic who regularly performs in front of an audience is likely to spend at least some time telling jokes to someone who’s raped someone. And when he hears a joke like Tosh’s, that starts with “How can a rape joke not be funny?!” and goes on to say that a woman who interrupts him deserves to be raped –- or a joke like Morril’s (“My ex-girlfriend never made me wear a condom… She was on the pill: Ambien!”) –- he’s probably going to feel pretty comfortable in that room.
When he hears the laughs in response to Morril’s joke, he’s not liable to feel shame about the night the girl from the bar passed out when he got her upstairs; he’s probably going to feel like he’s surrounded by a bunch of people who agree that what he did wasn’t really a big deal. He’s going to be reassured that he’s not in a society that takes it seriously."
This also goes for celebrities who make comments that—whether they intend it or not—encourage rape culture. Whenever you’re addressing a large audience, odds are good that you’re addressing both rapists and survivors of sexual assault. Forgetting that means encouraging one and harming the other. Be careful what you say, and how you say it.
"[TW: rape] Only one percent of rapists are arrested, and only one percent of those arrested are convicted (Russell 1984). Those who are convicted serve little time before being put back on the streets. Some are freed because the prisons are overcrowded. Women are encouraged to walk in groups, to not go out at night, or to go out only in the company of a male. Rather than effectively stopping rape by locking up rapists, our system “locks up” women. Probably because women do stay off the streets, “more rapes take place in or near the home than any other single place” (Gordon and Riger 1989 p.14). Despite women’s best precautions, we are not safe from rape in this culture."
Dee Graham, Edna Rawlings & Roberta Rigsby. Loving to Survive: sexual terror, men’s violence, and women’s lives. NYU Press. July 1 1994. (p. 21)
Remember that awful Steubenville rape? And how the rapists only got one measly year?
Deric Lostutter is the man responsible for bringing forth a lot of the evidence off of social media, and now is facing criminal charges and a possible sentence of ten years.
Yes, that’s right ten years.
Our justice system is teaching us that its worse to uncover rape evidence than to commit rape. Which is fucked.
Please sign the petition.
SIGNAL BOOST THE FUCK OUT OF THIS.
Why Society Still Needs Feminism
Because to men, a key is a device to open something. For women, it’s a weapon we hold between our fingers when we’re walking alone at night.
Because the biggest insult for a guy is to be called a “pussy,” a “little bitch” or a “girl.” From here on out, being called a “pussy” is an effing badge of honor.
Because last month, my politics professor asked the class if women should have equal representation in the Supreme Court, and only three out of 42 people raised their hands.
Because rape jokes are still a thing.
Because despite being equally broke college kids, guys are still expected to pay for dates, drinks and flowers.
Because as a legit student group, Campus Fellowship does not allow women to lead anything involving men. Look, I know Eve was dumb about the whole apple and snake thing, but I think we can agree having a vagina does not directly impact your ability to lead a
Because it’s assumed that if you are nice to a girl, she owes you sex — therefore, if she turns you down, she’s a bitch who’s put you in the “friend zone.” Sorry, bro, women are not machines you put kindness coins into until sex falls out.
Because only 29 percent of American women identify as feminist, and in the words of author Caitlin Moran, “What part of ‘liberation for women’ is not for you? Is it freedom to vote? The right not to be owned by the man you marry? The campaign for equal pay? Did all that good shit get on your nerves? Or were you just drunk at the time
of the survey?”
Because when people hear the term feminist, they honestly think of women burning bras. Dude, have you ever bought a bra? No one would burn them because they’re freaking
Because Rush Limbaugh.
Because we now have a record number of women in the Senate … which is a measly 20 out of 100. Congrats, USA, we’ve gone up to 78th place for women’s political representation, still below China, Rwanda and Iraq.
Because recently I had a discussion with a couple of well-meaning Drake University guys, and they literally could not fathom how catcalling a woman walking down University Avenue is creepy and sexist.
Could. Not. Fathom.
Because on average, the tenured male professors at Drake make more than the tenured female professors.
Because more people on campus complain about chalked statistics regarding sexual assault than complain about the existence of sexual assault. Priorities? Have them.
Because 138 House Republicans voted against the Violence Against Women Act. All 138 felt it shouldn’t provide support for Native women, LGBT people or immigrant women. I’m kind of confused by this, because I thought LGBT people and women of color were also human beings.
Because a girl was roofied last semester at a local campus bar, and I heard someone say they think she should have been more careful. Being drugged is her fault, not the fault of the person who put drugs in her drink?
Because Chris Brown beat Rihanna so badly she was hospitalized, yet he still has fans and bestselling songs and a tattoo of an abused woman on his neck.
Because out of 7 billion people on the planet, more than 1 billion women will be raped or beaten in their lifetimes. Women and girls have their clitorises cut out, acid thrown on them and broken bottles shoved up them as an act of war. Every second of every day. Every corner of the Earth.
Because the other day, another friend of mine told me she was raped, and I can no longer count on both my hands the number of friends who have told me they’ve been sexually assaulted. Words can’t express how scared I am that I’m getting used to this.
Because a brief survey of reality will tell you that we do not live in a world that values all people equally and that sucks in real, very scary ways. Because you know we live in a sexist world when an awesome thing with the name “feminism” has a weird connotation. Because if I have kids someday, I want my son to be able to have emotions and play dress up, and I want my daughter to climb trees and care more about what’s in her head than what’s on it. Because I don’t want her to carry keys between her fingers at night to
Because feminism is for everybody, and this is your official invitation."
Dear Cannes Film Festival,
Roman Polanski is a child rapist.
I know I’ve written this exact same letter before, although last time it was to the British Film Institute. I’m sure you are bored of hearing this. I’m certainly finding writing this over and over and over again somewhat tedious but people seem to be struggling with this issue. Still.
So, for the record, Roman Polanski is a convicted child rapist who is also a fugitive from justice.
It doesn’t matter how many “good” films he makes, or how many stupid people make excuses for him because he’s an “artiste”, Roman Polanski will always be a convicted child rapist.
Roman Polanski gave a 13 year old a quaalude in champagne and then vaginally, orally and anally raped her.
I know Polanski has trouble understanding the fact that raping children is a despicable crime for which he should still be in prison. After all, there are no end of rape apologists telling him that it was completely okay for him to rape a child [see: the entire audience the night he won the Oscar for the Pianist].
There is a reason he’s blithering on about equality for women being a bad thing and the birth control pill “ruining romance”. Polanski does not want to take responsibility for the child he was convicted of raping nor does he want anyone to question the clearly illegal sexual relationship he had with Natassja Kinski when she was only 15 years old.
Every single person who pays to see Polanski’s films is supporting rape culture.
Every single actor who appears in a Polanski film is supporting rape culture.
Every single organisation that gives Polanski awards for his films is supporting rape culture.
Every single person who uses the word “historical” to refer to Polanski’s rape conviction is supporting rape culture.
Every journalist who does not mention Polanski’s conviction for rape is supporting rape culture.
Roman Polanski is a child rapist who fled from California because he did not want to go to prison.
Roman Polanski gave a 13 year old a quaalude in champagne and then vaginally, orally and anally raped her.
He should be in prison; not receiving awards at your Festival.
Louise Pennington (via evilfeminist)
Every time I’m reminded of this it takes me a wee minute to calm down. He gets oscars. Everybody knows what he did. It’s unbelievable. Someone should get this repugnant rapist prick and hang the bastard
I find it grim and incomprehensible that people still give this guy airtime. Not only does he get applause and adulation for showing up at Cannes, but he then gives a speech about how the Pill is “ruining romance” and how he’s against the concept gender equality. Why the hell does anyone treat this like a valid opinion to be quoted in newspapers and movie reviews?? How can SO MANY actors, producers, etc still be so happy to work with him??
Laurie Penny’s Saudade
There are more of us than you think, kicking off our high-heeled shoes to run and being told not so fast
The best minds of my generation consumed by craving, furious half naked starving-
Who ripped tights and dripping make up smoked alone in bedsits bare mattresses waiting for transfiguration.
Who ran half dressed out of department stores yelling that we didn’t want to be good and beautiful
Who glowing high and hopeful were the last to leave the gig our skin crackling with lust and sweat and pure music
Who wrote poetry on each other’s arms and cared more about fucking than being fuckable
Who worked until our backs stiffened and our limbs sang with the memory of misbehaviour that was what it was to be a woman
Who dared to dance until dawn and were drugged and raped by men in clean T-shirts and woke up scared and sore to be told it was our fault
Who swallowed bosses’ patronizing side-eyes stole away from violent broken boys in the middle of the night and vowed never again to try to fix the world one man at a time
Who slammed down the tray of drinks and tore off our aprons and aching smiles and went scowling out into the streets looking for change
Who stripped in dark rooms for strangers’ anodyne dollars because we wanted education and were told we were traitors
Who sat faces upturned to the glow of the network searching searching for strangers who would call us pretty
Who bared our breasts to hidden cameras and fought and fought and fought to be human
Who waited in grim hallways with synth-pop crackling over the speaker system for the doctor to call us clutching fistfuls of pamphlets calling us sluts whores murderers
Who crossed continents alone with knapsacks full of books bare limbs clear-eyed vision running running from the homes that held our mothers down
Who filled notebooks with gibberish philosophy and scraps of stories and cameras to prove we were there keeping our novels and the name of out children close to our hearts
Who were told all our lives that we were too loud too tisky too fat too ugly too scruffy too selfish too much too and refused to take up less space refused to be still refused refused refused to be tame
Who would never be still. Who would never shut up. Who were punished for it and spat and snarled and they shook the bars of our cages until they snapped and they called us wild and crazy and we laughed with mouths open hearts open hands open and would never not ever be tame.
Sara, I’m with you in hospital, in the narroe rooms where you have put off your veil to count your ribs through your T-shirt, short hair and secrets and quiet defiance crying together that we don’t know how to be perfect-
Lara, I’m with you in mandatory art therapy, where we draw pictures of weeping cocks and are told we are not making progress-
Lila, I’m with you in a north London bathdroom, watchhing unreal maggots crawl in the cuts in your arms and listening to your girlfriend drunk and raging through the wall-
Andy, I’m with you in Bethnal Green where you love ambitious angry women with heart brain pen fingers tongue and you have a line from Nietzche tattooed over your cunt-
Adele, I’m with you in the student occupation, with your lipstick and cloche hat and teenage lisp drawling that there’s not enough fucking in this revolution and we must take action-
Kay, I’m with you on the night bus, half drunk and high dragging bright-eyed boys home to our bed, where we watch them worn out sleeping and whisper that we will never be married-
Katie, I’m with you in Zuccotti Park, where a broken heart is less important than a broken laptop is less important than a broken future and we watch the cops beating kids bloody on the pavement for daring to ask for more-
Tara, I’m with you in Islington where you have thrown all your pretty dresses out of the window and flushed your medication so you can write and write-
Alex, I’m with you and a bottle of Scotch at two in the morning when you tell me that no man will make us live for ever and we must seduce the city the country the world-
We are always hungry.
There are more of us than you think."