Note that this post discusses rape, rape culture and the recent news about Cornell University.
I don’t write about dark shit like I used to. I think in recent years, when rape and sexual assault has come up in the headlines, I’ve been less inclined to write about it than I am to just share other people’s takes before weeping quietly in a corner. Part of me wants to say it’s because it’s too depressing, which it is. But I don’t think that’s the reason. An armchair psychologist might say it’s because I find it triggering, having been raped myself a few years ago. But it’s not that either. I think the main reason I don’t write as frequently about rape these days is because it just feels so fucking futile.
When I was young and idealistic I’d have told you that I’d be happy to change one person’s mind: if I could inspire just one man to call out a friend who made a rape joke, then that would be a blog post worth writing. These days when I sit down to get my thoughts in order about the latest horrific nightmare, I grow increasingly frustrated because I know exactly what will happen next:
Women will share it. Lots of them will. Fewer men will share it, but some will, and I can usually predict exactly which ones. It will be the same men who always share these stories (thank you), but rarely are there new faces on the roster. The new men will pop up in replies to tell me things like ‘I am ashamed of my gender’ or ‘I can’t understand how anyone could do this’, eagerly distancing themselves from the behaviour of those Other Men, the ones whose actions have sparked off the original post.
I’m going to try and write about Cornell today, and I’m pretty sure the exact same thing will happen.
If you aren’t familiar with the story, seven men in a fraternity at Cornell University are alleged to have gang-raped a woman who was drunk, drugged and unable to consent. When she initially reported this to Cornell University Police, the University dealt with the allegations outside the standard criminal justice system – by allowing a panel of faculty to decide on ‘sanctions’ for the rapists. Including expulsion, suspension, and writing essays about their conduct. A lot of focus has been placed on the essay-writing (quite rightly, because what the absolute fuck was anyone thinking?) but I’d argue that expulsion is a horrifyingly weak response to gang rape too.
Jane Doe has now filed civil proceedings and a criminal investigation has been opened (the men deny the allegations), so I’m not going to go into detail but you can read the news in a number of places so feel free to Google it.
There’s one extra thing that it’s important to know when it comes to this story, though: pictures of Jane Doe were shared around a fraternity group chat advertising her as ‘free pussy’. At one point someone texted the group to ask ‘shop still open?’ and was told yes.
There were 57 men in the group chat, at any point one of them could have said ‘this is fucked up’ or ‘stop’ or ‘I’m calling the police’. They didn’t.
What would you do?
Some men reading this will be thinking ‘if I were there in that room, I’d have stopped it.’ And… hmm… maybe. If you happened to be in that room perhaps you’d have made a dramatic gesture to save this woman from the ordeal. But you weren’t there so we’ll never know.
Others will be thinking ‘if I were there in that group chat, I’d have said something.’ And again, maybe. If you happened to be in a group chat with 57 other men in which someone was advertising ‘free pussy’, maybe you’d have said something. But you weren’t in that group chat, so – again – we cannot know.
There are a lot of ‘ifs’ when I talk to men about this kind of thing. If they had been there, if they knew about it, if one of their friends did a similar thing. But you guys are here right now, in a world where rape and sexual assault is regularly normalised, excused, laughed off, dismissed, minimised…
So my question is: what are you doing now?
Being a ‘Good Guy’ takes work
Yesterday I spotted this post on BlueSky by Hannah Vardit:
And it is such a neat summation of exactly why women often feel frustrated when these stories hit the headlines. Why so many of us are angry with the men in our lives who are refusing to do the boring daily work to fight rape culture because they’re waiting for the opportunity to be a dramatic hero instead. One that comes neatly gift-wrapped and labelled ‘this is your chance’. A chance which doesn’t come with any risk, only reward.
It is incredibly awkward to fight against rape culture, as it’s awkward to fight against any ingrained cultural norm – awkwardness and shame is one of the ways in which cultural norms are enforced. It is much easier to sit in silence than it is to stand up and say something, because the act of ‘saying something’ marks you out as difficult, and usually means putting yourself in an uncomfortable position outside of the group.
If you wait for someone to attempt rape right in front of you, dreaming about being the big man who steps in to be the saviour, you’re going to be waiting a long time. The actual work that you – an average man who hasn’t joined a frat house because you’re not a douchebag – need to do involves awkward conversations and choices that will make your life harder.
Protecting women from rape doesn’t mean swooping in like Superman to wild applause and a sense of victory, it means starting a conversation that might leave you feeling like shit.
What are you doing right now?
It’s awkward as fuck calling out rape culture. It hurts, and it loses you friends. Saying ‘I don’t want to hang out with that man because he repeatedly makes jokes about sexual assault/treats women like they’re livestock/touches women without their consent’ is hard. Saying it to a crowd of other men who are all laughing along with his antics is even harder. There is no medal for doing it, in fact the ‘prize’ is often that you have to withdraw from spaces you’d otherwise enjoy hanging out in when you speak up and you’re told to stop being difficult. If you genuinely want to help, you have to become difficult.
You know what’s easy? Replying to a woman’s post to say ‘ugh I’m so ashamed of my gender’! Bragging to the nearest woman that you aren’t like those other men, then waiting for her to congratulate you.
Far harder to start an awkward conversation. One-on-one or in the group chat with your guy friends. Somewhere there aren’t any women to show off to. I don’t want men to just share this post then give themselves a pat on the back for helping, I want them to take the conversation to spaces where rape culture is rarely (if ever) discussed.
Take it to your friends who make misogynist jokes, saying: ‘I’m not comfortable with this – you’re normalising the sort of shit that happened at Cornell’.
To the pub when you’re discussing other things in the news, saying: ‘isn’t this Cornell news fucked up?’ and inviting other men you know to condemn it too.
To your colleagues and family members who make coded references to ‘trial by social media’. Take it there, pick up the argument. Fight back. Explain that false allegations are vanishingly rare. That actual rape convictions are incredibly difficult to get. That men are more likely to be raped themselves than be falsely accused of rape. Have the argument. Make things uncomfortable. Be difficult.
I guarantee you’ll get some awkward silences.
And you should do it anyway.
Care when no one’s looking
My despair at this particular problem came into sharp focus around this time two years ago, with the news about Gisèle Pelicot. In the weeks afterwards, and during the trial, women I know were sending links to each other and talking talking talking about how fucked up this story was. How appalled we were, how shocked, how numb.
A friend and I discussed it over coffee, and together we realised that the horror of the story itself was given extra weight by our intense disappointment in the men around us. This French news had spread like wildfire through our women friends across the world, yet at the time not a single man either of us knew had proactively mentioned it.
She told me she’d asked a man she loved about this, out of interest: had he discussed it with any of his friends?
His response: That would be really awkward. Why would I do that?
BECAUSE YOU SHOULD CARE, MOTHERFUCKER. That is what I want to yell at these men. CARE. Because this news is traumatising and consuming so many women in your life that you claim to love, care! Don’t just act like you care when you know our eyes are on your social media timeline, or when you want to show women that you’re on our side. Don’t just perform care in pursuit of ‘good guy’ points because the feminist inspectors might be looking!
Care when we aren’t looking! Get involved! Do the dirty work!
When I got raped, I mentioned it. Not because I wanted sympathy (or because I’m ‘brave’ – blergh – I don’t need cookies) but because at the time it was the most significant thing that had happened in my life. When someone asked me ‘how’s life treating you?’ or ‘what have you been up to lately?’, omitting it from my story felt like embracing a level of shame that I did not feel. I know that if I’d been mugged or burgled – or if that had happened to one of my friends – then talking about that would be completely normal. I didn’t think rape should be different. I mentioned it.
And a significant portion of men did not like that at all. They’d shuffle awkwardly in their seats, eyes downcast not knowing what to say, then try to find a brand new topic as soon as they possibly could. Women would go ‘ah mate fuck I’m sorry that sucks. What a cunt. What happened?’ They’d ask me questions to tease out the story, opening up a bit of space in the conversation to let me talk about it if I want to. Most men didn’t. They don’t want to know, they don’t want to hear it, they want it to go away.
What are you doing right now?
I’ve got great news for the men who want it to go away: you can help. You can. But like the woman in the post above says, you don’t get a medal. You don’t get a parade. You get awkward silences and you lose friends and you become known as the difficult one. As I was the difficult one, mentioning my rape in the month after it happened, as if acknowledging this event was a grubby little faux pas rather than simple honesty about my life.
Women talk about this stuff. Gisèle Pelicot, Cornell, our own experiences. We do it to show others they’re not alone, because we don’t want to let shame bury important truths, and often just because it’s a part of our lives. For us, this is not hypothetical. It happens. It feels harmful and painful and ugly to shroud it in silence.
So it’s deeply upsetting when silence is the primary contribution from men we love. As it’s also upsetting that men who do want to condemn rape and assault so often direct their performative horror at those of us who do not need to hear it. They pop up in my replies on social media to say ‘hey look, I’m a good guy! I think rape is bad! I abhor rapists! I’m on your side!’, waiting for the ‘like’ they’ll receive as reward. And sometimes I scroll down their timeline for a scrap of consistency – a hint that they’d care about this if they weren’t trying to impress me in that moment… and so often it’s silence again.
What are you doing right now?
Ask yourself this question, be honest about the answer and I suspect most of you will realise it’s ‘not enough’. For what it’s worth I think that’s my answer too.
When I was young and idealistic I believed if I could get just one man to call out a friend who made a rape joke, then that would be a blog post worth writing. These days whenever I sit down to write one I get tangled in the worry that nothing I do can ever make a big enough difference, so I end up writing nothing at all. It’s a similar attitude to the one that I’ve criticised above – I’m waiting for the chance to be a hero who changes minds, rather than just accepting that the work needs doing anyway. It is meaningful and necessary, even if it’s only a drop in the ocean. I won’t get a medal or a prize, but I should do it anyway.
So here’s a post about Cornell: what happened was extremely fucked up. Although the vast majority of us will never have the opportunity to intervene and stop an individual being raped, we all live in a society where this shit happens. We’ve all seen and heard conversations in which it is downplayed, normalised, dismissed or laughed off. We all have voices to speak out against it.
There were fifty seven men on the Cornell group chat. Thousands of men will read this blog post. You’re statistically unlikely to ever be invited to a rape party, but you’re very likely to be friends with someone who’d commit rape or sexual assault. You’re almost guaranteed to be friends/family/colleagues with someone who would excuse or downplay it.
This is the world you live in. This is your chance. I’m sorry it doesn’t come with a cape and a cheering audience, but the good news is you can seize it any time.
So what are you doing now? Are you starting conversations? Powering through the awkwardness? Being ‘difficult’ in the face of fucked-up norms? Are you challenging misogynist jokes or the normalisation of sexual violence? Are you supporting and believing the people in your life who tell you their own rape or assault experiences? Are you demanding accountability for perpetrators?
Don’t tell yourself you’re a better guy than the ones in the Cornell group chat: ask yourself what you’re doing to change the world you’re living in right now. Ask these questions, consider your answers, and then – this part is crucial – do not tell me.
I don’t need to see your homework.
There is no medal.
Please do it anyway.
19 Comments
Great piece.
Thank you <3
I’m a 38m who thought himself an ally to women. After reading this, I don’t think I’m the ally I thought I was. It’s hard. Rocking the boat isn’t easy and it doesn’t come with anything worthwhile other than the pride of doing the right thing. Rape Culture is so ingrained, when guys make jokes about women, it’s easy to hear and brush it off as locker room talk. I want everyone to be better people, but I don’t think it’s my place to be the one to push them to be better. But you’re right. We need to be holding each other accountable. This boat needs to be rocked to it’s core.
Thank you for your comment – it’s rare for me to feel like I might have encouraged people to take action off the back of a post like this but I am pleased this might have made you think about the contributions you can make. Best of luck with rocking the boat, it’s valuable and important and I believe in you.
“I don’t think it’s my place to be the one to push them to be better.”
I think you’re the right person if a) you’re there and b) you can. That’s it to be honest. If you’re a man, even better, because we women are often more easily dismissed than you are.
Well said, so well said
Thank you for this. It’s all so fucking awful.
I’m one of those guys who won’t let that shit pass when it happens, but haven’t made a habit of pushing the kind of conversations you recommend. Good idea. Anyhow, reason for this is to note a pattern: As the years go by, the occasions where I need to be That Grumpy Guy happen less and less frequently. Long way to go obviously but it’s not nothing.
Also, great writing, thanks.
All truth. The moment I loved my husband most was watching him respond to revelations about abuse in his family. He instantly and without reservation supported the survivor. He expressed no doubt, no disbelief, just love and support in the face of something that must have been incredibly difficult to accept. This is the belief we all deserve.
I’m not saying this as a gotcha, I hope it doesn’t come over that way. I’m just curious about you saying you don’t feel it’s your place to push people to be better. Is there a group or “type” of person it feels like would be more appropriate for a push to come from? What makes it not your place?
This is maybe just my brain snagging on specific wording but it’s made me really curious about whether that’s a common perception.
A note to males:
Just like racism is not a person of color’s problem; rape and sexual assault are not a “women’s problem”. The problem is with the white people (speaking as a white person); the problem is with men (speaking as a male) being rapers.
I look like January 6th and like to think that my interior is now more like Juneteenth. People think it is safe to be racist and/or misogynistic around me; they are wrong. The first time I raised my voice to say “that’s racist and I don’t appreciate it” in a group of white people was really hard. I knew it would hurt our family business, I knew it would hurt our immediate family socially in that small town. Somewhere I found the outrage to speak up and it has only gotten easier and easier over the decades since.
I was a notorious womanizer at ages 18-30. I am thankful now that I was also sufficiently socially awkward to be straight and upfront in my pursuits (hey, I’m *name*, want to have sex?” and if they said yes, then great, and if they said no or ew, then that’s fine there are other women who will say yes somewhere). And I still found myself in situations where I’d know better now because (living the dream) I have acquired a certain amount of maturity and wisdom and grace as I have gotten older (at the very minimum one learns to dodge a certain amount of hell).
Actions speak louder than words. What you do in private counts. I was fortunate enough to be married at one point to a domestic violence attorney (I learned a lot about “people” during those years) and I haven’t stopped trying to learn and I hope I never do. TIL is a good day. Internal self-awareness is not a road with a finish line, and you don’t get a victory lap. Do it anyway.
“Internal self-awareness is not a road with a finish line, and you don’t get a victory lap.”
YES. Very nicely put.
I’ve been trying, but I’ll try harder.
That is so good to hear.
Clear indication of a lack of consent education?
If you think consent education would have prevented what happened at Cornell then I have some magic beans to sell you.
See my comment in reply to RedRobin below – this is about rape culture. Consent education is important, but it is never ever ever going to be even close to enough to change a pervasive culture that sees women as less-than-people and excuses/condones rape.
Thank you so much for writing this. I appreciate the reminder to keep looking for opportunities to do more, to do better.
So I’m sitting here as a white cis-het guy, and I have a lot of feelings about this well written post.
First of all, I’m glad you’re still writing about this kind of miserable conduct. Because just about the worst that can happen is that it stops being addressed.
Secondly I’m kind of torn. Because while I agree that this needs addressing, and that too many people, mostly men, look away instead. I also spent an hour after reading stuck in some old pain.
Because here’s the thing. I like to think I’ve done it right. I’ve been the difficult one, I’ve started that argument at the birthday party if I had to. I’ve distanced myself from people others might have befriended. And not only has it cost me, I honestly doubt that it’s done anything at all. I didn’t change anyone’s mind, I didn’t stop anyone. Because they could just dismiss me and keep going with each other, And then I wasn’t a voice in the conversation anymore.
And that’s the relevant point here. Calling things out is nice and all, but words alone and the efforts of one person aren’t going to move the needle. I think you need the people with formal power in the situation (the university staff, the cops) to do their job *right* instead of on easy mode.
Society as a whole will never do this right anyway. There’s simply too many perps in this or other categories willing to scratch each other’s backs.
I’ve shared the post, and I’ll continue to take the stands, because I do care. I just doubt it does anything. And I wish it cost me less.
I mean… yes, of course. This will not accomplish *everything*, but I’d argue that it is vital if we want to accomplish *something*. This is gonna be a long reply so strap in.
I think this kind of argument is essentially a rehash of the ‘hero’ idea that I discuss in the piece. “Well this tiny little thing won’t make a big difference, so unless I can do something dramatic that immediately changes hearts and minds, then why bother doing anything at all?” but that’s a terrible trap to fall into, for a few reasons.
Firstly, yeah it absolutely sucks to have to do this – being ‘difficult’ loses you friends and means you have to extract yourself from spaces that you might otherwise hang out in. But it’s gained you… the opportunity to hang out with people who are not rapists or rape apologists. I guarantee you that there will be women who quietly withdrew from those spaces without saying anything – through fear and self-preservation – so extracting yourself from this environment and seeking out better environments is good for you on a personal level (you get to hang with better people, including women who you’d never have had the opportunity to meet because they escaped those toxic spaces). And although none of us can know exactly what happens in the spaces we withdraw from, if enough of us do it then there won’t be many people left and they’ll have a shit time.
“I didn’t change anyone’s mind, I didn’t stop anyone.” You cannot possibly know that, and I’d argue you almost certainly did change someone’s mind, just perhaps not in the way that you think. Sure, you’re unlikely to challenge some twat with ‘that’s a horrible thing to say’ and have them immediately decide never to make rape jokes or touch a woman without her consent but… the other people listening in who might have been on the fence about challenging this could have been emboldened to say something else the next time. People who look up to you and respect you will be taking careful note. Women listening in may have felt safer and therefore been able to stay when they’d otherwise leave. There’s a really brilliant BlueSky thread about this too – by Maura Quint – explaining how we as women get excluded and left out because this shit is insidious. It’s not a sign written in bold writing ‘WOMEN KEEP OUT’ but the effect is similar, it erodes our confidence over time and causes us to withdraw.
https://bsky.app/profile/mauraquint.bsky.social/post/3mwrv2ralps26
And often it’s not an obvious thing – men overtly shooing us out of those spaces (where we might gain friends, connections, promotions, whatever). It’s comments like this which often chase us out, they do silent damage. Any and every attempt to stand against them can act as a shield against this silent damage.
You say “I wish it cost me less.” and I have sympathy with that. It’s a very limited amount of sympathy though because it still costs women more. It really does. Even if we don’t or can’t stand up to this stuff in the spaces we want to hang out in, we’re paying this price. It costs you and I both at the moment, but the collective action of *more and more people doing it* will start to cost every one of us less and less as time goes on. Women are telling you ‘this costs us LOTS, and it will cost you slightly less than the price we pay already’ because you’re in a position of greater power and influence purely by existing as a cis man rather than as one of us. Plus, by withdrawing from those spaces and setting up/joining in with new ones, you’re helping to create more safe environments for the women around you. Which is in itself a good thing.
“I just doubt it does anything.” Do you still doubt this now I’ve explained all that?
Because even *that* is just the change you’ve effected in the immediate moment. We’re talking here about cultural change and so the ripple/snowball effect is ultimately what we’re shooting for. I’m going to assume from what you’ve said that you believe rape culture is real and you think it’s bad, so let’s look at how rape culture is perpetuated in the first place. What do you think causes it? How does someone go from being a baby/child *without* aggressively misogynist views and become a grown adult who believes those things, or is at least so callous about women’s personhood that they consider her personhood irrelevant?
Those people in power (the flawed people who make up a flawed justice system, for example, and the perps you mention scratching each other’s backs)… do not spring fully-formed from the ether. They are *made* – steeped in a culture that tells them women don’t matter, women are property or toys, women are gagging for it, and so does it even matter if you do something to this one when she’s drunk? She’s a slut and she shouldn’t have been drinking around men anyway, etc etc. I am not asking people to take on and smash this system personally and individually – that is impossible. I’m asking people to – instead of shrugging their shoulders and saying ‘well, that’s just the way society is!’ – recognise that society is made up of individuals who take actions both large and small that contribute to our culture. Individuals made this culture we’re in right now, and enough individuals changing their behaviour, and encouraging others to change their behaviour, can eventually make a difference.
We actually already have – since 1991 it’s been illegal in the UK to rape your wife (cannot BELIEVE I have to type that), since 1999 it’s been illegal to beat children at school. It’s horrifying that those things are still so recent, but the laws around them changed at least in part because culture did. Our culture is reflected in our laws and you can’t just wake up one morning and say ‘well, I’m going to completely change the way the criminal justice system deals with rape and all we need are a few people in power to do their jobs properly and it’ll all be well’. People in power won’t do that shit without pressure. So we have to be the pressure.
I obviously don’t disagree that the police need to do their fucking jobs, and the justice system (especially here in the UK which is the one I’m most familiar with) is egregiously, horrifyingly terrible at dealing with rape and sexual assault. But how do we change this system? Well, we require political will. We need people to care enough about it that they will cast their votes for those who are willing to stand up for women as people and against rape culture as a whole. We can’t do this unless we change people’s minds, and this change does not happen magically and instantly because one man said something difficult at a party. I’m sorry but it just doesn’t. The difficult challenges are a *necessary but not sufficient* tool for change. Change happens because many many many people all say something, and then inspire others to say something, and eventually inspire more actions.
You want your actions to be meaningful and rewarded in the moment, and I’m sorry to say that they won’t be. If you want to be a hero, join the fire brigade. If you want to tackle rape culture, accept that you’ll have to keep doing some really uncomfortable work to change conversations, vote and campaign for changes to the systems that deny victims justice, and understand that no matter how high the cost might be for *you*, it’s going to pale into insignificance compared to the costs for victims who are essentially being ‘difficult’ on a MONUMENTAL scale, and end up in the public eye being harassed and attacked and torn apart. It is miraculous to me that so many of them do it anyway, and I personally think they should all be awarded a medal for valour at the end.
I am not saying that *all* we need to do is start challenging people at parties. What I am saying, though, very very loudly and in increasingly desperate tones, is that women really desperately need MEN to start doing this too. It cannot just be a job for us, because we live in a society that values women’s accounts as less trustworthy than men’s, and that treats our concerns as less important.
To summarise:
“I’ve been the difficult one, I’ve started that argument at the birthday party if I had to. I’ve distanced myself from people others might have befriended.”
Great, keep going!
“And not only has it cost me,”
It costs women more.
“I honestly doubt that it’s done anything at all.”
It has. It just hasn’t done *everything*, and that’s gutting but it’s a frustration that I and many women will have to face alone so it’s nice to have friends come and join us and make this a little less lonely.
“I didn’t change anyone’s mind, I didn’t stop anyone.”
You don’t know that, and see above I think you almost certainly helped.
“Because they could just dismiss me and keep going with each other,”
Good riddance to them. Maybe next year a couple more people will leave, and then more, etc etc.
“And then I wasn’t a voice in the conversation anymore.”
Why would you want a voice in the conversation if you were never going to use it?
I really appreciate writing the piece despite your insights that you may just be yelling into the echo chamber. These can’t be much fun to write, and why do it if it doesn’t seem to be having an impact? Although, I love your catalogue of change in the comment above.
I read this and thought about if for a day before deciding to add a comment. After all — quite a bit has already been said. I have only two modest ideas to add:
(1) It’s difficult to guess and it’s utterly impractical to measure how many people will read a piece like this and wind up thinking about it on their commute or in the shower. It’s not exactly the kind of change that makes you want to fire up the rebel tunes and scream “hell yeah,” but meditating on uncomfortable ideas like this certainly helps me explore them and helps me prepare for them — one of the reasons I keep coming back to read your writing and my partner and I are patrons. It’ll take time to mentally adjust your message to operationalize it in my life. Normally, I would never clutter the comments with something so boring, but it felt relevant.
Without self-disclosing too much, I am in a position where I could find myself on the periphery of a case like this. Very fortunately, I never have. I think it helps just to be walked through the uncomfortable thought process before it’s in your lap. Still, as you’ve already made the point, there’s no way to know how you’ll react until you’re in it.
(2) As I understand it, it is a truth of advertising that humans are far more likely to accept an idea if they have heard it repeated from multiple sources. To many, you are an awfully credible source. As always, thanks for doing what you do.