So, as long as we're all at it, I may as well talk about the Thing That Happened at ConFusion this year. It may serve some useful illustrative purpose in a discussion about rape culture and what individual women can and cannot reasonably be expected to do about it.
A bit of background first: I'm 40 years old. I've been going to cons since 1994, more or less. I've been going to Michigan cons since 1994, more or less.
I'm a rape survivor. I'm not terribly quiet about this. I'm a feminist. I'm sort of really really loud about this. I do not have a reputation for - how to put this? I am not known for putting up with shit.
I am, in some circles, the woman somebody will come and get when someone else has been sexually harassed or assaulted and needs someone to hold her hand and let her talk and make her tea, or even the woman that somebody will come and get when something is getting out of hand and somebody needs an amplifier for her "no". I am very very clear on the right of every woman not to be touched when she does not want to be touched.
So let me tell you how it was that at a room party held by friends of mine, people I have known for coming on two decades in some cases, when I was completely surrounded by friends and backup and people who I, with good reason, trust, I spent over half an hour with somebody who I did not particularly want to be touched by handling me in a low-key but unmistakably sexual manner:
I didn't notice.
I mean I sort of did. I was vaguely aware that somebody was touching my arm and shoulder in an insinuating way, and who it was, and that it wasn't particularly pleasant. Having clocked this, I removed my attention from the situation and went back to my conversation.
I didn't get pissed off about this for, oh, days. I mean, at myself. I just sort of happened not to spend much more time at that party, and I just sort of happened to spend quite a lot of the rest of the night down in the bar with some friends and I just sort of happened to be a lot less physically affectionate with my friends for the rest of the weekend and I just sort of happened to get home feeling kind of cranky and irritable and twitchy. For, you know, no reason. Then I got pissed at myself for having been such a wimp. Setting a bad example. Failing to live up to my responsibilities as an older woman and a feminist and a member in apparently not very good standing of the Open Source Backup Project who is, it turns out, incapable of backing HERSELF up.
I didn't get pissed off at him for weeks.
And I didn't mention it to anyone until ... tonight. Nor did I stop to think about the fact that there were about thirty other people in that room, many of whom I know and trust and have for years, any one of whom might in theory have noticed that somebody I was completely ignoring was making himself free of my body while I looked the other way and carried on a conversation with several other people.
Understand, if you're one of those people, I'm not mad at you because you didn't notice. I mean, I barely noticed. It was all ... perfectly normal.
Think about it.
So, Rape culture. You were saying?
ETA May 14: I've been![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metafandomed! And I am off to BC for a few weeks to see my mother, which means I will be away from the computer a fair bit. Enjoy the post; don't be That Guy, or That Chick, blame rapists not victims, read the rules, such as they are, don't feed the trolls, I'll be along with a broom to sweep them up as soon as I can, etc. Also, I'm quitting smoking; keep this in mind when considering whether or not you want to be The First Rape Apologist I see when I fire up the computer on any given day.
A bit of background first: I'm 40 years old. I've been going to cons since 1994, more or less. I've been going to Michigan cons since 1994, more or less.
I'm a rape survivor. I'm not terribly quiet about this. I'm a feminist. I'm sort of really really loud about this. I do not have a reputation for - how to put this? I am not known for putting up with shit.
I am, in some circles, the woman somebody will come and get when someone else has been sexually harassed or assaulted and needs someone to hold her hand and let her talk and make her tea, or even the woman that somebody will come and get when something is getting out of hand and somebody needs an amplifier for her "no". I am very very clear on the right of every woman not to be touched when she does not want to be touched.
So let me tell you how it was that at a room party held by friends of mine, people I have known for coming on two decades in some cases, when I was completely surrounded by friends and backup and people who I, with good reason, trust, I spent over half an hour with somebody who I did not particularly want to be touched by handling me in a low-key but unmistakably sexual manner:
I didn't notice.
I mean I sort of did. I was vaguely aware that somebody was touching my arm and shoulder in an insinuating way, and who it was, and that it wasn't particularly pleasant. Having clocked this, I removed my attention from the situation and went back to my conversation.
I didn't get pissed off about this for, oh, days. I mean, at myself. I just sort of happened not to spend much more time at that party, and I just sort of happened to spend quite a lot of the rest of the night down in the bar with some friends and I just sort of happened to be a lot less physically affectionate with my friends for the rest of the weekend and I just sort of happened to get home feeling kind of cranky and irritable and twitchy. For, you know, no reason. Then I got pissed at myself for having been such a wimp. Setting a bad example. Failing to live up to my responsibilities as an older woman and a feminist and a member in apparently not very good standing of the Open Source Backup Project who is, it turns out, incapable of backing HERSELF up.
I didn't get pissed off at him for weeks.
And I didn't mention it to anyone until ... tonight. Nor did I stop to think about the fact that there were about thirty other people in that room, many of whom I know and trust and have for years, any one of whom might in theory have noticed that somebody I was completely ignoring was making himself free of my body while I looked the other way and carried on a conversation with several other people.
Understand, if you're one of those people, I'm not mad at you because you didn't notice. I mean, I barely noticed. It was all ... perfectly normal.
Think about it.
So, Rape culture. You were saying?
ETA May 14: I've been
metafandomed! And I am off to BC for a few weeks to see my mother, which means I will be away from the computer a fair bit. Enjoy the post; don't be That Guy, or That Chick, blame rapists not victims, read the rules, such as they are, don't feed the trolls, I'll be along with a broom to sweep them up as soon as I can, etc. Also, I'm quitting smoking; keep this in mind when considering whether or not you want to be The First Rape Apologist I see when I fire up the computer on any given day.