Women can avoid being sexually assaulted by not dressing like sluts. That was the advice given by a police constable in a forum at York University.
"Slut" was a terrible word choice, of course; it basically denigrates all women who confidently express their sexuality, and it speaks very poorly of this cop's attitude towards women in general.
But aside from that, is this guy truly reprehensible? Was he suggesting that women who dress provocatively and who are then sexually assaulted had it coming? Should we turn on the righteous feminist outrage... or is that political correctness gone mad? Do we live in a world where even the mere whiff of "blaming the victim" is inexcusable and must be silenced, even if the speaker was merely presenting facts and common sense?
Then again, is there any factual substance to back up this cop's "advice"? According to one study by Utah State University, only 4.4% of reported rapes involve provocative dress or behaviour on the part of the victim. But then yet again, if there is any chance at all that a woman could reduce the chances of her victimization by taking certain precautionary measures, shouldn't she take them?
I really don't know the answer.
When I was eighteen, a forty-something man assaulted me. I was very close to my dad at the time, so I told him what happened. The first thing he said to me was, "what were you wearing?"
It broke me. Completely. Didn't he know he wasn't supposed to ask that? That he wasn't supposed to suggest it was my fault, not even by a little bit?
The hardest thing was, I had really loved and respected my dad at that point. I still do. He's just an aging man who's not aware of some of the new, progressive, feminist ideologies that I was exposed to.
Still, after he asked me what I was wearing -- his first thought -- in response to the confidence I had given him about what I went through, my father had never looked so small in my eyes.
I can't blame him for saying it. It was just a clash between the different belief systems that we belonged to. I don't insist that my beliefs are absolutely true and flawless. Maybe his belief system has some practical value in regards to this matter.
No, I don't think the attack was my fault, or that I should have dressed more modestly just to avoid it by a small margin. I also don't know if that small margin could have indeed made the difference.
I wrote a poem about this, of course.
After the shock and tear
and stunned silence,
a guttural movement heard deep in
him. “What were you wearing?” The first words
he murmurs. Each breath burns
and sighs pregnant:
Why I didn’t listen.
The young never listen.
Young girls like me,
painting ourselves silly,
donning clothes so tight, low,
and tiny.
Have you considered what message you’re sending
fell on pierced deaf ears. His pleas
powerless, now he lies broken
on the recliner, shuts his
spectacled eyes and droops,
“What were you wearing?”
They were ripped afterwards.
I did everything right,
reported it right away, went right to the ER
the way I was.
Must let them get everything
and test for everything.
Must report and confess everything and
believe everything
that’s right:
It’s the pathology of the perpetrator,
it’s about power,
plus the opportunity that happened
to arise
and the plethora of other factors contributing to the totality of the motive.
Only 4.4 percent of sexual assaults are caused by provocative attire on the part of the --
I wanted to dress up to impress a boy
who sat two seats behind me in math class. I cut up
my outfit like that centre-fold model’s. I liked her chopped
bangs, flicked tongue, her one
knee bent.
Only 4.4 percent chance I could have avoided it.
Knowledge in pamphlets
at the RCC. Everything
will be alright again. Strength
in community, rigorous
support by
talking about it. Right now.
No stigma, hold back
nothing. Go
have a good cry on the shoulders of those who love
you most.
And then he sighs, “What were you wearing?”
Wrong, so wrong.
There was only 4.4 percent chance
I could have avoided it.