Photos taken at Dunedin Slutwalk 2012 by Michael Morris
One
of the most personal and challenging things that feminism has taught me...
well, not so much taught as revealed...is that I have been raped. At
the time I didn’t understand it that way; it didn’t seem like rape, just
unwanted. It’s quite remarkable really that it took years of engaging with
feminism and gender studies to understand that rape and unwanted sex are the
same thing. When rape is discussed in the mainstream, we are told of stranger
danger, weapons, home invasion, ultra-violence and night time alleyway
struggles. So when it happens, say at a party or casual drinks at a friend’s
flat, with someone who you know well enough to nod to in acknowledgement when
you pass each other in the street, to call it rape almost seems disrespectful
to anyone who has ever encountered any ‘legitimate’ rape, to quote our friend Todd
Atkin. Women are effectively silenced out of respect for their fellow sisters,
and out of fear of appearing hysterical. Mostly though, they are silenced
through not even knowing that what just happened was rape. Anything less than
bloody, traumatising violence made out to be of your own doing.
My
‘incident’ (even now I have trouble using the word “rape”, for very emotionally
and socially complex reasons) left me feeling skanky. Easy. Weak. Don’t be
mistaken into thinking me a prudish and easily guilted young woman; I have been
relatively liberal with my sexuality for most of my sexually active life.
Sexual encounters, even of the fleeting variety, very rarely inspired in me
feelings of gendered guilt. But of course, this was different, because I KNEW
it wasn’t something I did, but
something that was done to me. And
because I was young; because I was drunk; because I was passive, I felt wholly
to blame. I felt slut shamed. All without ever uttering a word to anyone, and
never a word uttered to me.
The
power of rape mythology is omnipotent and omnipresent. Without properly engaged
discourse that directly confronts rape culture, it will remain unchallenged.
That is why I was very encouraged to hear that Dunedin was putting on another
Slutwalk this year. Even though I didn’t make it to the rally, I feel that Slutwalk
is incredibly important because it revives the conversation that is so
desperately needed. Some people asked me “why do we need another Slutwalk? We
had one last year!” But this is not a topical issue, it is an ever occurring
issue. Without frank and unashamed dialogues dealing with rape culture, generations
of women will feel that the everyday rape that occurs is justified and to be
expected. Sometimes rape is spectacular, it is violent and hugely traumatising.
In no way do I wish to discredit women who have experienced situations more
terrifying than I could imagine. But mostly this is not rape; rape is banal. It
is underwhelming, but none the less damaging. Even banal rape is wrong, and the
ignorance surrounding it must come to an end.
