Rape
Three of us, Janine, myself and a man, are still sitting in the small holding room of the D St city jail, waiting to be brought into the next room for paper processing.
We are still handcuffed behind our backs. And we are talking. The man, I totally forget his name, has on the very shirt I was supposed to be standing by Magdalene when she challenged the sexism and violence inherent in this shirt.
I point to the shirt and say to him I'd like to talk about it and maybe come up with a better way to say what the author was trying to say.
He looks at me incredulously and bellows, his previously soft voice I was straining to hear now loud and authoritarian, there is nothing wrong with this shirt.
Janine & I look at him and I say, well it is equating sex with getting fucked over, with rape, with violence. He snorts and flashes his credentials: he's a psychiatrist and counsels battered and raped women, and he knows for a fact that if I or any woman has 'issues' with this shirt it is because she hasn't dealt with her own rape.
I am frankly shocked and furious. I tell him calmly I can see exactly how he counsels victims of male abuse and exactly what he feels about rape and I do not need to talk about it with him anymore.
Janine agrees. We talk about the other arrestees, especially David, who had called for this action. We hear that one of the other arrestees is a former judge and was arrested because he kept shouting into the megaphone of the officer who was trying to give us warnings! I'm thinking I'll try that next time!
We get taken into separate rooms, one male and one female, handcuffed to a wall hook together. I have the luck of being handcuffed with the misogynist male. My face reveals nothing of my disgust.
He begins to tell me he has been married 5 times, and has fucked hundreds of women, he's even had a few homosexual relationships, and so he's an expert on sex. I ask him to please respect my wishes: I will not talk with him about this at this time but will at some point.
Consciousness. GeesusHcrist.
We are still handcuffed behind our backs. And we are talking. The man, I totally forget his name, has on the very shirt I was supposed to be standing by Magdalene when she challenged the sexism and violence inherent in this shirt.
I point to the shirt and say to him I'd like to talk about it and maybe come up with a better way to say what the author was trying to say.
He looks at me incredulously and bellows, his previously soft voice I was straining to hear now loud and authoritarian, there is nothing wrong with this shirt.
Janine & I look at him and I say, well it is equating sex with getting fucked over, with rape, with violence. He snorts and flashes his credentials: he's a psychiatrist and counsels battered and raped women, and he knows for a fact that if I or any woman has 'issues' with this shirt it is because she hasn't dealt with her own rape.
I am frankly shocked and furious. I tell him calmly I can see exactly how he counsels victims of male abuse and exactly what he feels about rape and I do not need to talk about it with him anymore.
Janine agrees. We talk about the other arrestees, especially David, who had called for this action. We hear that one of the other arrestees is a former judge and was arrested because he kept shouting into the megaphone of the officer who was trying to give us warnings! I'm thinking I'll try that next time!
We get taken into separate rooms, one male and one female, handcuffed to a wall hook together. I have the luck of being handcuffed with the misogynist male. My face reveals nothing of my disgust.
He begins to tell me he has been married 5 times, and has fucked hundreds of women, he's even had a few homosexual relationships, and so he's an expert on sex. I ask him to please respect my wishes: I will not talk with him about this at this time but will at some point.
Consciousness. GeesusHcrist.
posted by Xan @ 2:52 PM
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