It’s not her fault, but
My friend said, “It’s not her fault, but . . .” and I gasped.
In the wake of four rapes and one sexual assault reported at Cal State University San Marcos this September, and the filing of the Cornell University gang rape civil case, chatter on every platform has been plentiful. Informed and otherwise.
None of it is surprising.
Those who are enlightened grasp the opportunity to educate the public.
“We must teach people to honor affirmative consent, but states’ definitions differ.”
“We must provide more security around residential halls, but that won’t stop rape by acquaintances.”
“We must help survivors seek justice, but so many are harmed by the process.
Those who are not enlightened grasp the opportunity to continue the normalization of sexual crimes, knowingly or not.
“Well, what was she wearing?”
“Was she drinking or drugging?”
“Did she say ‘yes’ at first?”
“Why did she even go to that frat party?”
“She should have known better.”
No, not surprising.
What is surprising is to hear someone presumably enlightened say, “It’s not her fault, but . . .”
A response repeated by many.
“It’s not her fault, but why would she put herself in such a dangerous position?”
“It’s not his fault, but what does he expect, getting sloshed at a bar?”
“It’s not their fault, but sex-crazed frat boys are dangerous.”
“But” is such a powerful word, powerful because it can negate whatever precedes it.
In translation “but” means:
“It’s her fault. She put herself in that dangerous position.”
“It’s his fault. What does he expect, getting sloshed at a bar?”
“It’s their fault. They should know ‘sex-crazed frat boys’ are dangerous.”
“Frat boys”?
Sexual assault is not a “boys will be boys” meme, no matter how many of them litter social media. Sexual assault is a product of our culture.
According to the most recent National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey 2023-2024, disturbingly close to half of the women in the United States experience sexual violence in their lifetimes (45.1%), and 21% report attempted or completed rapes. More than one in six men in the United States experiences sexual violence (16.9%). An estimated two out of three rapes go unreported.
What should we do? Teach potential victims to somehow not become victims? How? Sexual crimes are not about sex; they are about exerting power over another. Anyone—young and attractive or not—is a potential victim.
Can we teach dangerous frat boys not to be dangerous? After countless generations of teaching “boys will be boys,” how do we undo that learning? Is it too late once they hit the frat house porch? Is it too late to learn respect and empathy?
Enlightened folks know we must do something more than blaming the victims and protecting promising young men’s lives. Sexual violence is devastating, traumatizing, sometimes even fatal.
But . . .
Love,
K-B
P.S. When I submitted this to our local daily, this was the editor’s response:
“For years, the editorial boards where I have worked have rejected letters and essays that deal with serious allegations of appalling criminal behavior in a way that presumes they are correct. Your essay has many fine qualities and makes many strong points. But I've read it twice now, and it reads as if you believe and want other people to believe that the Cornell civil lawsuit allegations are obviously true.
“Not all such allegations are true. The Duke lacrosse players case is one example, the University of Virgina case reported by Rolling Stone is another and the Brian Banks case in Long Beach brought to light by the California Innocence Project is another.
“So we pass on this as written and encourage you to take it to another outlet. If you want to revise your essay in light of our policy, we would be happy to consider the new version.”
Kit-Bacon Gressitt lectures in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies at California State University San Marcos.