| Rape |
[07 Jul 2007|04:10pm] |
I’ve been wanting to write about this for a long time but I didn’t quite believe myself enough to do so. Then I came across Biting Beaver’s Rapist Checklist and I decided that yes I do believe myself and yes this did happen to me and yes this was rape.
I was lonely. I was living alone, and my closest friend lived three hours away from me by train.
I was bored. I met a guy. He liked me so we talked and hung out a bit.
I was moving to Sydney. He came over to farewell me. He got drunk. I didn’t.
He asked if he could kiss me. I said no. I said NO, dammit. He seemed to accept that. He got more drunk. He started touching me. I kinda didn’t mind so I let him.
He started tugging at my clothes. I didn’t want him to. He insisted so I took off my top. I didn’t want him. I didn’t want to take my clothes off but I didn’t know how to say no. And he never asked me. Not once.
And so my clothes were off and he was still touching me and I was bored and not aroused and I didn’t want him but I didn’t know how to say no. And then he was kissing me and touching me and his mouth was on my breasts and I didn’t want his mouth on my breasts but I didn’t know how to say no. And so I let him.
And then he finally got bored and pulled me on top of him and we were both shirtless by that stage and I was uncomfortable but I was glad that he had stopped touching me so we lay there and he tried to get me to look into his eyes and tell me what I was feeling. I still didn’t know how to say no.
So then he asks if we could get naked and just sleep together. And the fucking moron that I am I took him literally. I thought it was a way to escape all this kissing and fucking touching. And I said yes but only if he meant SLEEP. I wanted to sleep. I was tired and bored and I didn’t like him touching me and sticking his tongue down my throat and I felt uncomfortable lying there on top of him and I still didn’t know how to say NO.
And yes I am a moron but I have an acute case of trustfulness and not knowing how to disbelieve people when they say something. And perhaps he would hold me, perhaps he would tell me I was beautiful, perhaps that was all that I wanted.
I said yes to going to bed together to SLEEP. That was ALL I said yes to.
But it got worse and there was more kissing and more touching and I REALLY didn’t know how to say no then because I had just said yes to this but I didn’t realise because I am a fucking moron. And then he was on top of me and there was this split second of utter terror as I was under him because he was so strong and heavy and I knew that if he decided to put his dick into me that there was nothing I could do to stop him. And he was drunk. I didn’t know how drunk and I am all too familiar with the feel of fists when men get drunk.
I felt myself, my consciousness, float to the ceiling. I stayed there for a while humming away to myself trying not to look down at the bed where I was trapped and his mouth was on my breasts again or his tongue was being stuck down my throat again.
And I hummed and looked away and hummed some more and looked away and tried to pretend that nothing was happening and that this man was not trapping me here, on my own bed, in my own room, my sacred, safe space.
Then he tried to remove my underwear, my last shred of protection from him and what was happening to me. I said no. I fucking said NO. I pushed his hands away. I said NO. He ignored me, pushed me back down onto the bed and started kissing me and touching me all over. He tried again to strip me of my underwear. I pushed his hands away. I pushed him away. He tried persuading me, I tried to explain that I didn’t want him to. He seemed to give in. Again he pushed me down and kissed and touched me all over, again he went for my underwear refusing to listen when I told him no, refusing to let me push his hands away.
Then his tongue was on my clit and I was back floating near the ceiling, feeling grateful because at least he wasn’t on top of me anymore. He couldn’t get me to come, of course he couldn’t, I was on the ceiling, humming and looking the other way.
I think he was running a score card in his head. If he could get me to come I would be obligated to let him fuck me.
He eventually stopped. He fell asleep but I wasn’t comfortable with him being there. I stayed awake with the smell of him. I dislike the smell of most men, always have, and his saliva was all over me.
I showered in the morning and put on my sarong. I went back into my bedroom. He put his hands on me immediately. I was tired. I hadn’t slept. I just wished he would go. He stripped me. Not bothering to ask whether it was ok. And his tongue was on my clit. Again. And I was on the ceiling. Again. Wondering how long he would take this time.
My body betrayed me. I came. I even thanked the fucker after he was finished. Of course the next question was whether he could fuck me. To which I replied a vicious no. Thank goodness he asked me. Thank goodness he took no for an answer. I had already decided that no man would ever, ever stick his dick in me. Ever.
This was not the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Not by a long shot. I wasn’t particularly traumatised by the experience. I haven’t cried about it. I didn’t really hurt me. I did feel uncomfortable, angry and confused. It sometimes keeps me awake at night. I often worry about how vulnerable I am when it comes to men, that I can’t even say no when they touch me and I don’t want them to. I keep away from men as much to protect myself from myself and my desire for male validation which keeps hitting me unexpectedly, I still can’t control it.
I suppose that I am supposed to think of this as a personal problem. Merely an issue of me not being able to stand up for myself. A personal weakness. A personal failing. I don’t. This is something that has affected almost every woman in my life. My educated guess would be that about 95% of all women have been raped if acquiescence is not seen as consent. And that is a conservative estimate. I would prefer to say 99%. That means that 95% of men are rapists. And yes, it is political.
It doesn’t matter that this didn’t really harm me, it was still rape. No, he didn’t have a knife to my throat. No, he didn’t fight me or force me. No, he didn’t verbally threaten me. No, he didn’t stick his dick in me. It was still rape. He had his hands on my body and I didn’t want his hands on my body, it was rape. I said no and he didn’t listen, it was rape.
This was rape because it was not sex. Sex is beautiful, messy, lusty, loud, funny, mutual, consensual, interactive intimate, unselfish, caring and conscientious. Sex is not some guy acting his sexual fantasy upon a prone, female body. When I have sex I am absolutely fully inside my body. I am in love with my body. My body is fully active and conscious and sensate. When I am having sex my consciousness, my Self, is not hanging around on the ceiling and waiting.
My body is my own. Mine. No one else’s. It belongs to me. No one has the right to touch it without my permission. No one has the right to force me to hang about, hovering on the ceiling, bodiless. No one has the right to force my consciousness, my Self, to evacuate my body. Why didn’t he notice that I was no longer in my body? Why didn’t he notice that I wasn’t responding, wasn’t interested, didn’t want it, wasn’t aroused? Why didn’t he notice? Because it didn’t matter. He got drunk so he could work up the courage to touch me without asking for my permission. He had no desire to have sex with me. He wanted to fuck my body.
And please know one thing. To a woman who was abused as a teenager by a violent, alcoholic man, even the smell of alcohol on a man’s breath can constitute a threat. To a woman who was abused as a teenager by a violent, alcoholic man, the smell of alcohol on a man’s breath combined with the weight of his body on hers is fucking TRIGGERING. You don’t pressure an abused woman for sex if she doesn’t know you well enough to trust you. Trust you enough so that she knows she can stop you if anything starts to trigger. You don’t pressure an abused woman for sex if you do not know her very, very well. Well enough to stop immediately if anything starts to trigger. You don’t pressure any woman for sex PERIOD. You ask, verbally, before you lay so much as a finger on her. You drop it immediately if she says no. You do not ask again.
So boys, if you do not know how to tell if a woman is enjoying herself and her time with you then STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM US.
If you are incapable of keeping your hands off women when you are drunk then STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM US.
If you do not know what the word no means, if you are incapable of this simple verbal comprehension then STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM US.
If a woman says no to kissing you she probably doesn’t want to do anything else with you either so STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM US.
If you do not know that putting your hands on a woman’s body without her express consent is tantamount to a threat then STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM US.
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) trandals you are a rapist. You are not more a rapist than the majority of the men on the planet but you are still a rapist. You had no right to do what you did to me. You had no right to act as though my body did not have an owner. I recommend that you stay away from women until you are capable of seeing them as human beings rather than things to be fucked.
|
|
