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jadedmusings[Trigger Warning]
Just when I think humans can't shock me any further than they already have, someone inevitably has to prove me wrong.
A twelve year-old girl is raped by a fourteen year-old boy while at school. One witness fled to find help and another witness attempted to intervene on the girl's behalf. The fourteen year-old has been charged with felony sexual assault. While all this is truly depressing, this isn't the bad part.
Here's the bad part: School employees defend teen accused of rape
Nevermind the victim pointing the finger and calling it rape. Nevermind the two witnesses - students at the same school - who actually saw it and went to get help/physically stopped the fourteen year-old. Let's just assume for a moment that the employees in question have a reason for defending the teenager, for saying "Oh, not him! He could never!"
Notice no one is even denying he was assaulting her. Immediately the adults are pointing the finger back at the girl and saying "Why didn't you scream? Why didn't you fight back? You're just scared to admit you really wanted to be held down and fucked."
What pisses me off is that even another fucking child could see that what was happening was not consensual. Not just one, but two, and one of them risked coming to harm himself/herself to save the young woman being raped. The children know it was wrong, but the adults, the authority figures at the school are standing up for the perpetrator and claiming it was "hormones."
And you fucking wonder why she didn't call out for help? You wonder why she didn't fight back? Seriously?! Maybe, just maybe she already knew your answer. She knew you'd call her a liar. She knew you'd tell her she wanted it, that she consented to it, and she knew it was hopeless.
I was never raped at school, thank deity, but I was sexually harassed in middle school. I can't recall one week that passed when some part of my body wasn't touched against my will for my entire sixth grade year, and though it lessened in seventh and eighth grades, I was still harassed and touched. No, I didn't tell anyone what was happening. Know why? I was told "boys will be boys," and that I should take it as a compliment that they wanted to touch my body. It was a compliment to have my ass pinched and my breasts groped. They must have really liked me to one day corner me and a friend at school, push up against the wall and only permit us to leave once their hands had fondled a breast or buttock. It was their way of flirting.
I learned at eleven years old that my body was not mine. My breasts and ass were theirs to touch, to be admired, to be commented on. If they wanted to touch me, I had to consent, otherwise it got worse, or...well, let's just say I played along because I didn't want to imagine what was worse.
It never once ocurred to me to tell anyone what was happening. I knew I didn't like what was going on, but I was embarassed to talk to my mother about it, and forget talking to my dad about my body. My mother told stories of boys hitting girls and running away in her day, or pulling on pigtails to show affection. My friends who were harassed alongside me told me the ring leader was older and that he liked us. It was funny, though looking back I now realize her laughter was forced and she was trying to convince herself as much as I was that being liked by boys this way was a good thing. Didn't we all want to be pretty and have boyfriends later? Plus, they were older than us, that made us more grown up, right? Fighting back? Yeah, maybe I could have taken on one or two of them, but if I'd hit them hard enough to leave a mark, or in front of a teacher, I'd have gotten in trouble and suspended. Plus, I was a good girl. The straight-A student. I wasn't supposed to fight. I was too smart and too sweet for that. Too good.
I was eleven/twelve years old. What did I know about sex, relationships, and physical boundaries? I barely understood the menstrual cycle at that point, what the fuck would I know about sexual gratification (of others)? All I did know then was that I didn't like what they did to me - that it made me feel sick to my stomach to be touched, and that these days I rarely hug people who are not my son or my boyfriend. I can't even tell you the last time I initiated a hug with my own mother. But, whatever, right? Boys will be boys!
And you wonder why a girl, trapped in a stairwell, forced down against her will and raped never thought to scream. Maybe she didn't know, or maybe he threatened to do worse to her if she told anyone. Maybe it wasn't the first time, either. Chew on that next time before you start blaming a child for her own rape.
Just when I think humans can't shock me any further than they already have, someone inevitably has to prove me wrong.
A twelve year-old girl is raped by a fourteen year-old boy while at school. One witness fled to find help and another witness attempted to intervene on the girl's behalf. The fourteen year-old has been charged with felony sexual assault. While all this is truly depressing, this isn't the bad part.
Here's the bad part: School employees defend teen accused of rape
Nevermind the victim pointing the finger and calling it rape. Nevermind the two witnesses - students at the same school - who actually saw it and went to get help/physically stopped the fourteen year-old. Let's just assume for a moment that the employees in question have a reason for defending the teenager, for saying "Oh, not him! He could never!"
"If she was being raped, why didn't she scream?" Dones asks. "Why did these students have to come up and tell us that somebody's down there?"
Mustapha Cannon says, "It was hormones going wild."
Cannon is another full-time site supervisor at Portola and says, "I know the girl and I know the guy. I know... and I know the girl's family. I know for a fact that that girl could've knocked that guy out with one hand tied behind her back."
Notice no one is even denying he was assaulting her. Immediately the adults are pointing the finger back at the girl and saying "Why didn't you scream? Why didn't you fight back? You're just scared to admit you really wanted to be held down and fucked."
What pisses me off is that even another fucking child could see that what was happening was not consensual. Not just one, but two, and one of them risked coming to harm himself/herself to save the young woman being raped. The children know it was wrong, but the adults, the authority figures at the school are standing up for the perpetrator and claiming it was "hormones."
And you fucking wonder why she didn't call out for help? You wonder why she didn't fight back? Seriously?! Maybe, just maybe she already knew your answer. She knew you'd call her a liar. She knew you'd tell her she wanted it, that she consented to it, and she knew it was hopeless.
I was never raped at school, thank deity, but I was sexually harassed in middle school. I can't recall one week that passed when some part of my body wasn't touched against my will for my entire sixth grade year, and though it lessened in seventh and eighth grades, I was still harassed and touched. No, I didn't tell anyone what was happening. Know why? I was told "boys will be boys," and that I should take it as a compliment that they wanted to touch my body. It was a compliment to have my ass pinched and my breasts groped. They must have really liked me to one day corner me and a friend at school, push up against the wall and only permit us to leave once their hands had fondled a breast or buttock. It was their way of flirting.
I learned at eleven years old that my body was not mine. My breasts and ass were theirs to touch, to be admired, to be commented on. If they wanted to touch me, I had to consent, otherwise it got worse, or...well, let's just say I played along because I didn't want to imagine what was worse.
It never once ocurred to me to tell anyone what was happening. I knew I didn't like what was going on, but I was embarassed to talk to my mother about it, and forget talking to my dad about my body. My mother told stories of boys hitting girls and running away in her day, or pulling on pigtails to show affection. My friends who were harassed alongside me told me the ring leader was older and that he liked us. It was funny, though looking back I now realize her laughter was forced and she was trying to convince herself as much as I was that being liked by boys this way was a good thing. Didn't we all want to be pretty and have boyfriends later? Plus, they were older than us, that made us more grown up, right? Fighting back? Yeah, maybe I could have taken on one or two of them, but if I'd hit them hard enough to leave a mark, or in front of a teacher, I'd have gotten in trouble and suspended. Plus, I was a good girl. The straight-A student. I wasn't supposed to fight. I was too smart and too sweet for that. Too good.
I was eleven/twelve years old. What did I know about sex, relationships, and physical boundaries? I barely understood the menstrual cycle at that point, what the fuck would I know about sexual gratification (of others)? All I did know then was that I didn't like what they did to me - that it made me feel sick to my stomach to be touched, and that these days I rarely hug people who are not my son or my boyfriend. I can't even tell you the last time I initiated a hug with my own mother. But, whatever, right? Boys will be boys!
And you wonder why a girl, trapped in a stairwell, forced down against her will and raped never thought to scream. Maybe she didn't know, or maybe he threatened to do worse to her if she told anyone. Maybe it wasn't the first time, either. Chew on that next time before you start blaming a child for her own rape.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 01:09 am (UTC)Also, I understand not having much in the way of dealing with it. All I can really do is get angry about the things that happened to me (there was more than just the middle school crap) and write about it here. Seems so...pointless sometimes, you know?
no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 01:30 am (UTC)At this point, since nothing has happened for the past 15 years, I'm kind of over it... I don't think I'll worry about it again, really, until I have a kid of my own. But who knows.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 02:20 am (UTC)