Day 235 “Conflict Resolution”

“It’s not rape if the girl is a prostitute, is it?”  one of my students asked me recently.

“It is without consent,”  I answered sternly, but the question left me unsettled.  As a high school teacher, I am immersed in the attitudes of the young, and it is worrisome.

The prevalence of sexual assault and the reluctance to report these crimes is a conflict that currently plagues Canadian society, and one that hits me at my core.  When I was abducted and assaulted in the early 1970’s, the police informed me that reporting it would be futile, as “I had asked for it”given what I was wearing that night, so, I let it drop, and have been haunted ever since.  The authorities knew all about the man who’d done this to me, and maybe the girls after me weren’t lucky enough to escape with their lives.  Every woman who doesn’t tell carries that burden of guilt.

“I was told that it was my fault,”  my mother told me referring to the multiple times she was assaulted by male relatives starting at the age of six.  “Boys will be boys,”  her mother told her.

I had thought that our society had progressed, but apparently that is not true.  In a recent court case, the victim – who had awaken in the night with her assailant on top of her – was dragged through three days on the witness stand, and questioned about all of her lifestyle habits, even though there was DNA evidence clearly convicting the accused.  “She asked for it” remains to be a viable legal argument.

Yes, there are cases in which men are wrongly accused – it happened to someone I know.  The “victim” came forward to confess her lies just prior to the trial, but when told she would be charged with contempt, she backed down sticking with her initial story.

The countless arguments that have appeared in the media recently look to our legal system as the culprit of this ongoing imbalance of justice.  Yet, as a woman and a schoolteacher, I cannot help but feel that there is a larger problem here not being addressed.

I think of my student’s question.   He asked it in all honesty, and was surprised by my response.  This is a young man that associates with the criminal element; his role models are drug dealers and gang members.  Having grown up in a household where domestic violence was the norm, he is conflicted about male/female relations.  He is not alone.

When I taught in a rural school, many of the families had “shacks” on their farms, which the children converted for their own purposes.  The parties they hosted included under-age drinking and a disturbing number of sexual activities.  A female student (grade 10) reported to me that there was a stripper pole installed in one of the cabins.  Visions of music videos flashed through my mind.  Were these children emulating their celebrity idols?

Another student of mine, female, was recently assaulted at one of these parties.  Her assailant grabbed her by the hair and forced her into a sex act.  She was hesitant to report the incident for fear of backlash from her peers.  Suicide seemed a better option.  Fortunately, she was not successful, but she continues to be tormented.

“If you were male, and he used physical force on you, that would be assault and there would be no question of a charge,”  I tried to reason with her.  So why do gender differences cloud the issue?

I do not know the answer to this conflict, but I do believe that we all have an obligation to find a solution.  Educators, parents, law enforcers, and the media all play a part in how we view issues relating to sexuality.  Someone needs to counter the messages of inequality with a reverence for human rights and humanity itself.

Personal responsibility and accountability should never be overshadowed by “She asked for it” bullshit!

 

Rage and Restraint

Thor and I have dined in a high-end restaurant, and he has gone to pay the bill.  I have chosen my food carefully to watch my intake, but still do not feel satisfied.  I look around and spot a dessert counter, with many cakes, pies, and sweet buns.  My husband is taking a while, and I am getting anxious.  On an impulse, I lunge for the cinnamon buns at the front of the counter, reaching across the cakes and pies, with no regard for social propriety.  I scoff the bun quickly, before anyone, especially my husband, can see me.  I needn’t worry.  He is nowhere in sight.  The room we were dining in is in the basement of the building, with a walkout patio.  Thor headed upstairs to the cashier’s desk.  Embarrassed by my actions, I decide to follow him, but I cannot see him.  I catch sight of him leaving by the front door.  Has he forgotten me?  I run to catch up with him and encounter two teenage boys, one of whom threatens to grab my breasts.  Angry with Thor for leaving without me, I am enraged by this young boy’s brazen behaviour.  “Do it and I’ll beat your head in,”  I warn him.  He makes the grab, and I retaliate by grasping one ear and twisting it, while simultaneously poking him in the eye with other.  I knee him in the groin, and as he goes down, I slam his head against the wall.  “That will teach you!”  I conclude.  I have caught my husband’s attention now, and we walk off together.

Restraint is obviously a theme in this dream: the ability to control my eating, and the need to control my anger.

Thor and I are in week four of Weight Watchers.  He has very successfully been following the plan and losing weight.  I am not faring as well.  It is frustrating, to say the least.

Dining out is the base of our problems.  I am vegetarian and Thor is meatatarian, and rather than cook two meals, it is just easier for us to dine out.  With only 26 points allowance in my day, that is a difficult task.  Last night, I had a veggie stir fry with the sauce on the side (8 points).  Thor, on the other hand, had a seafood linguine with garlic bread. (He has 45 points in the day.)  I went to bed hungry, while he had a midnight snack.  As I often do when watching my food intake, I got cranky.

I am proud of my husband, don’t get me wrong.  The changes he is making to his diet and daily routine are commendable.  I do, however; feel a bit like the woman in my dream:  left behind.

The two teenage boys in the dream are an interesting addition to this dilemma.  When I was a teenager, with new, but fully developed breasts, a boy did grab my breast as he passed me on the sidewalk one day.  I was so surprised that by the time I responded, he had fled.  Thus began a series of sexual harassments that continued well into my twenties.  In retrospect, it wasn’t until I had my third baby, and the weight stayed on that the unwanted advances stopped coming.  This is an aha moment.

Could the anger that I feel when dieting be related to inappropriate attention?  I clearly remember thinking, just yesterday, that the nice thing about being older is that you can be unattractive and get away with it.

I never felt attractive.  One of four girls, I thought of myself as the dumpy one.  I had reached full height in  elementary school, and filled out way ahead of my older sisters, earning the nicknames ‘Moose’ and ‘Linebacker’.  Whenever my sisters and I went anywhere together, everyone assumed I was the oldest, even though there were several years between us.  While they received endless attention for their beauty, I was the goofy looking one.  When I did bring boys home, I lost them once they caught sight of my siblings.

Despite my lack of self-esteem, or maybe because of it, I was always finding myself inappropriately propositioned.  Fathers of children I babysat, employers, boys I went to school with, and later colleagues, as well as friends of my then husband.  And, there was the rape.  I was targeted out of a whole gathering of schoolgirls.  I never understood it, but the more it happened, the angrier I became.  Occasionally, I did retaliate physically, but mostly I internalized it. “Boys will be boys,” my mother would say.  “It’s up to the woman to deter it.”  Like my mother, I learned to be a victim.

Why would I want to lose weight only to make myself vulnerable again, must be the question running through my subconscious.  No wonder I am cranky.  Being overweight is not desirable, but neither is being desirable, literally!   Maybe, I need to have a little talk with myself, and remind my inner young woman that I am a lot older now, and have learned to ward off unwanted advances, and protect myself.

Who knew losing weight was this complicated.

A little restraint please!