It's fairly typical to think about survivors of rape and domestic violence as being female, and the perpetrators being male. Many times, that is the case.
I don't expect all conversations to immediately go gender neutral. But I would like to think we can at least acknowledge that survivors are not always female. Those who commit acts of violence, not always male. (Though I have not often heard of female sexual violators, I am familiar with domestic violence in female couples.)
Please read on.
Part of the concern here is something sort of abstractly gender-neutral on my part -- an objection to not only victimization of women (by perpetrators), but also to painting victims as only female. Some part of me sees that as portraying women as weaker and more vulnerable, and it just doesn't fit with my worldview. Even so, the vast majority of survivors of domestic and sexual violence are women and girls. And they are extremely strong people.
The other part is somewhat more personal. I live in Texas, where we have a wonderful advocacy organization called the Texas Association Against Sexual Assault which relatively recently conducted a billboard campaign to get people to talk more openly about sexual assault, and to help people who've survived sexual assault know they're not alone, and there are resources and people who want to help.
These billboards popped up in a variety of places around our city. They each have a person's face on them, and the words: "I was raped." What struck me was the one I passed on my way south into downtown. The face was male. Username aside (it has its own story and caveats), so am I. And I am a survivor.
I have often felt excluded from conversations because, well, I'm a guy. I am "the perpetrator sex". And it's assumed that I do not know what it's like to consider your safety when going out in public, when going on a date, when in intimate circumstances with someone new. The assumption is that I have that male privilege of presuming that, wherever I go, I'm safe and that people will leave me alone. That assumption is wrong.
I consider my safety in public as a matter of course. I'm gay. I have experienced violence and intimidation because of that, so the impulse to look over my shoulder, and to avoid being places where I can be trapped, is already second nature. In more private circumstances, it is very uncomfortable to explain to another male who hasn't experienced this that, no, really, certain things really do trigger a cold sweat. No really needs to mean no, and no, I don't really think rought sex is hot. It's like coming out, all over again. In fact, a lot of guys (and women, too) will emasculate you, metaphorically speaking, for admitting that it's happened to you. Because of the stereotype of only women as victims, as I've mentioned above, you immediately become a woman in their eyes -- and (this rankles me) you're suddenly less to them. (Misogynists come in both sexes and all colors.) In this culture, we tend to blame the victim -- somewhat less so for domestic violence, somewhat more so for sexual violence.
I've come a long, long way from that time in my life, and I've healed a lot. Reading Hothead Paisan, Homicidal Lesbian Terrorist helped a LOT. ("Way cheaper than therapy"...true! Hothead helped me become a much stronger person.) But it's very disconcerting, still, to see these conversations and diaries, and feel...alien...to them. Please try to remember in these discussions that there are a great number of survivors who don't fit the assumed mold. And we are still very nervous about coming out into the open about our experiences.