Knock knock...

Late post... but I guess that's appropriate given the subject matter.

Hallowe'en is coming up this Friday and I felt obligated to write something in theme for this month's creative content. So I whipped up a little flash fic. It's shameless, I know.

As usual, the story will also be posted at the short story link to the right.

For those less inclined to creepiness... you can find my children's Hallowe'en story, Witch's Brew, here. Or in the new Children's Story section to the right.

Enjoy, and have a great Hallowe'en!

Knock Knock

I heard the knocking before I was completely awake. It inserted itself neatly into the dream I was having as the ticking of a grandfather clock. I stood on tiptoe, staring into its antique, yellowing face. Panic jolted my body into wakefulness as I noticed the face staring back at me – two eyes shadowed and hidden behind two small holes just above the centre, where the hands met. The dream slowly faded away, but the ticking stubbornly remained.

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Tick

Knock

Knock

Knock

Someone was at my apartment door.

I glanced at my clock, thankfully small and digital at my bedside. 1:45 am. Who would be knocking at this hour? My mind raced over the list of possible people and the panic that had started to ebb upon waking, began to rise once more. No one came immediately to mind.

The knocking had stopped and I listened to see if the person would continue. If it was an emergency, surely they wouldn't stop. Surely it would sound more frantic than the metronomic pounding I thought I had heard.

Silence.

I remembered my phone. I reached over the bedside table to find it. My hand, trembling slightly, lost its grip and it clattered loudly on the hardwood floor. The sound reverberated through the entire room.

I held my breath. What if the person were still outside the door? What if it was better if they thought I was still asleep or not home? I mean, I really didn't know who it could be.

The silence was taught, like an instrument string about to snap. Finally I exhaled and turned on my phone's screen. The electric light seemed to illuminate the entire room. I felt exposed. I glanced up to make sure my blinds were closed completely before realizing how silly I was being. After all, it was probably no one. Someone a little tipsy getting the wrong apartment.

It's only Wednesday, I thought. There must be people who drink on Wednesdays right? Or maybe they're just overtired from a late shift at work. They've realized their mistake and gone home now.

I glanced at my phone. No messages. My family lives over an hour away, so they would definitely call first. I don't have many friends in town and certainly not any that would drop by in the middle of the night unannounced. My boyfriend, Sam, he might.

But Sam's in Korea. He won't be finished his semester for another month. Did something happen?

I texted Sam's number and asked if he happened to be in town.

I browsed the net for a while to calm my nerves before finally laying my head back on the pillow. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the knocking began again.

Knock knock.

Knock knock.

I listened closely, praying that maybe it was someone knocking on the neighbour's door. Maybe it wasn't even my door at all.

Knock knock knock knock.

It was definitely mine. Maybe it was a neighbour. They'd been locked out. They needed help.

Then why only your door? There are plenty of others to choose from. And why so calm?

I started to get out of bed, figuring I would just going up to the door and look out the eye hole. But then my imagination won out.

What if they're waiting? They'll hear your foot steps. They'll see your shadow pass the peep hole.

I remembered that stupid scene from Scream when the man leans in to overhear a conversation in the bathroom stall next to his. The knife that was waiting. I imagined a knife on the other side of the small glass hole. Waiting for my eye to curiously glance out.

That's stupid. You're being stupid.

But by the time i got to my feet the knocking stopped. I sat back down on the bed.

I wanted desperately to turn on the light. I wanted to bathe in light. But again I looked up to my bedroom window. I had picked a first floor apartment because I figured it would be safest during a fire. I was now wishing I was a few floors up. I left the light out - maybe they'd think no one was home.

Who is this person anyway? Who am I so afraid of? For all I know it's the little old lady from down the hall. Maybe she needs some help and she remembers the nice young girl who works at the coffee shop.

I tried to tell myself how ridiculous I was being. I tried to think about how the morning staff would laugh at the shop tomorrow. I was still getting to know everyone, this might be a nice story to break the ice.

It could be someone from the shop.

But no one from the shop knew my address.

Someone knows it. It's on your emergency information. Someone could have went digging...

I tried to clear my mind. I took a breath and glanced at the clock. 2:35 am.

Knock.

Knock knock.

Knock.

Goddammit. Please, no. Just stop.

I thought about calling the cops. But what would I tell them? Would they come out when I hadn't even tried to see who it was? Maybe I should call my parents.

They're an hour away, what are they going to do? Find your body in the morning?

I willed my mind to shut up. I wanted to puke. I tried to objectively decide how absolutely out of proportion I was making this situation. I failed miserably.

Knock knock knock.

Knock knock.

I gritted my teeth. I stood up. I had to consciously force every muscle in my body to move. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but I couldn't see well. I walked into the dining room table on my way to the door. Every time there was a pause between knocks I froze. Held my breath.

But it always started again.

Knock knock knock.

Knock.

Knock knock.

I licked my dry lips as I made it to the door. A small explosion of yellow, fluorescent light marked the eye hole. I lifted my head up, and looked out...

As I was saying...

*Trigger warning - discussion of sexual assault and rape*

This post is a continuation from last week's blog. 

Okay, where was I? Oh yes... Sam Pepper... He essentially made a living off of sexually harassing women on the street, posting it to YouTube and somehow collecting far far too many likes and views.

Why does this happen? In fact, why do we let this happen? Why does it take so long for someone like Sam to get called out and why are there people running to defend him?

Because things like the Jennifer Lawrence nude pictures "scandal" can happen. Where a woman's privacy is violated, her naked body violated, put up for all to see as if it were a toy, a tool for other people's pleasure before her own. And what do people say? "I guess she shouldn't have taken those pictures." "I guess she shouldn't have left them somewhere where someone could so easily break the lock." 

It sounds a lot like " She shouldn't have worn that skirt"  or "that top". "She shouldn't have been out at night, drinking, with a crowd like that, because what did she expect?" What do you expect when you don't keep your body locked and hidden away like some expensive piece of jewelry you only wear on special occasions. The necklace you only wear for the really important people to see. But be careful, because when you flash your money around what do you expect but for people to try to take it?

But this isn't money or jewelry or some valuable object. These are our bodies, ourselves, beyond value. Not something meant to be bought and sold or stolen. Not for anyone to see or touch except ourselves and the people with whom we choose to share them. They do not tarnish when touched by too many hands or when worn too often. 

Our bodies are inseparable from ourselves. They are extensions of our thinking, emotional selves. We can share ourselves, show ourselves, interact with the world. But when you lay claim to our bodies, touch our skin or judge these vessels with words meant to control, you do so to more than the sinews, the bones and the flesh that you obsess over so much. 

Those women on the street are not baubles for people like Sam to peruse, to try on or assess. They are human fucking beings.

So this is the meaning of rape culture. That women's bodies can be compared to objects. Used to sell products. Used to help someone get off. Considered something that others have the right to examine and judge. Something that others can own, and therefore steal, and should be protected and hidden.

Something that loses value the more that it's used. So that when someone enjoys their body, wears it proudly every day, shares it with people without shame, they are derided and told, with disgust, to put it away.

And the girls who do cover up. The careful and slow ones that need to know themselves completely long before inviting anyone else in. Well, they are misers keeping their gold ferreted away. They aren't sharing, which is selfish. How dare they think their bodies belong to themselves.

And so, as the cliché goes... We are damned if we do and damned if we don't.

What about men? What about boys? You guys should be fighting, not just a culture that demeans half its population but a culture that portrays you like curs. A culture that tells its little girls to watch out for men. "All men are dogs." "They only want one thing." "They'll take advantage whenever they can." 

I always think it's funny when men complain about feminists for putting them down. Meanwhile we're out there fighting the very system that portrays men as less than human.  

I've seen men balk at the notion that they should be responsible for preventing rape. That teaching men not to rape is insulting. Then they complain that they're portrayed as big bad wolves. But by telling us that the burden falls on women to defend ourselves, they're telling us that we should be afraid. 

I'm sick to death of "boys will be boys" and "they can't help it, what can you do?" Tell your son he can't control these feelings he has. Tell him he can't help but do anything he can to fulfill these desires. Then look your daughter in the eyes and tell her "you can't teach someone not to rape," as if any of you even tried.

I hear them argue on the news that it's up to women to defend themselves, that they should carry weapons and prepare to fight because these men would rape regardless of what they're taught. Rapists are criminals lurking in the shadows. But really most are the people we know and we trust. Not stalking us at night and breaking into our homes - they're the ones that walked us from work, the ones we invited in. That little boy, your son, who you didn't teach that "only yes, means yes." The boy that heard you say "what did she expect?" when they reported that date rape on the news.

I've been told to my face that it would be entirely my own fault if I were raped when not wearing enough clothes or dancing too suggestively or putting myself around intoxicated men.  That wives can't be raped because they're assumed to be willing. Because "it's genetic for men to want sex, so it's not their fault."

As if all men are predators. Oh, how I hate that word. It plays people for fools with the comparisons it makes.

If you leave your food out on a camping trip or go out unprotected where you know wild animals live, is it really so surprising when you're mauled by a bear, a wolf or a wild cat? Is it really the bear's fault when he's only doing what's in his nature?

And so what about "sexual predators"? Is it really their fault when you tempt them like that?

The problem is that they're not predators out looking for lunch. For the most part, they are human beings. And the only thing we have as humans, really, is our ability to use reason and emotion to overcome our basic desires and instincts. So, no, the two things don't compare unless you want to argue that half the population are slaves to an outdated genetic trait. That half of the population is less than human. Then remember who said it, and stop blaming me.

So what can we, regardless of gender, do to start making things better for everyone?

Stand up and speak out. Stop being afraid of labels as benign as feminist and white knight. Call people out, because silence is deadly. Especially in a world where silence is currently equated with agreement and consent. 

Teach your girls and boys to respect each other, not to fear or control one another. Teach them about their bodies.

And learn about yours. 

Women, know your bodies so you can better know how to speak up. So you can ask and participate and give full consent. Or confidently say no. So you never are made to feel ashamed in your own skin.

Men know your bodies so that they can be used to give pleasure and not pain. So you can learn better control and share in your partners enjoyment and not just your own. And so you also can give full consent and also feel confident saying no.

Because open discussion between all genders can only create understanding. Instead of being ashamed or ignorant of our bodies we can share them, or keep them, as equals.

Just be open and honest. Share your thoughts. Start debates and discussions. Ask questions if you're not sure you understand. Don't be afraid that people will be angry at you for pointing out an injustice. If they are, it usually means they know something's wrong and are afraid of the change that comes with fixing it.

Change is hard, but it's a hell of a lot easier when we talk and work together. 

We need to talk.

I think even if you live under a rock, you've probably heard something about gender equality, sexual harassment and violence against women in the media lately. Whether you heard about Ray Rice's fiancee being beaten unconscious and the resulting #whyIstayed campaign, over 70 cases of US colleges mishandling sexual assault cases, the events surrounding #gamergate, the threats against Emma Watson and the UN's #heforshe campaign, the #yesallwomen response to an LA shooting or even Jeopardy's ridiculously outdated and ignorant "What Women Want" topic.... There's a lot to read about, to examine and discuss.

Before I get into any sort of discussion, I think we need to have a talk about something. The F word. That's right... FEMINISM (say that in your scariest Homeland Security TERRORISM voice). 

Yes, I am a feminist. What does that mean? Does it mean I think men are inferior? Does it mean I'm trying hard to overthrow family values, democracy and the patriarchy? Does it mean I'm trying to claim men have no issues and only contribute to the problems of women? And why does feminism give you this icky feeling like maybe you shouldn't touch it unless it's with gloves or maybe a really long stick?

 

Webster's dictionary defines feminism as "the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes." So all feminism means is that you think all genders should have equal rights. That's it. So if you believe men and women should be equal, you agree with feminism. Obviously the difficulty arises when individuals and groups disagree over what is "equal" .

Unfortunately, the aforementioned issues are pretty indicative of whether we have true equality in our society. Are the genders really equal when women undergo significantly more domestic and dating violence than men, still make less than men despite being statistically more educated, still have to cope daily with sexual harassment and degradation? And then on top of this be told that it's their own fault and/or they're imagining/exaggerating the problem?

And yes, before you start chiming in with, "but men have problems too!" or "I don't identify as a feminist because I'm a humanist and I care about all people," let me just explain why those are both red herrings that only serve to derail important discussions. 

We're not talking about men's issues today. Not because they're not important, but because we're talking about women today. This may have some overlap with men's issues since many of the same sexist attitudes that are harmful to women also hurt men (e.g. a general acceptance that feminine = inferior means men are criticized for having feminine interests, physical features, sharing their emotions etc). 

Let me simplify it so everyone can see how frustrating it is when someone feels the need to direct the conversation towards " but men get harassed too!" and " but look what men have to put up with!" 

Let's say I'm giving a presentation about cake (because why not). Suddenly someone has a question.

"But what about pie?"

"Ah, well that is also a dessert. It is similar to cake in many ways, but today I'm here to talk about cake."

"But pie is delicious too."

"Yes it is, and that is a whole topic on its own. So I'm going to return to talking about cake. Cake is often topped with frosting..."

"But pies usually have ice cream or whipped cream, not frosting."

"That's correct. Except we're talking about cake."

It's frustrating.

So why not talk about both pie and cake? They're both desserts, argue the humanists (dessertists?)

The problem is that by broadening it to a "human" problem you are disregarding many points. I agree that gender, race, religion etc shouldn't matter. Unfortunately, we don't live in that world yet. And the fact is that it ignores specific needs/challenges associated with different groups. If we don't look at why certain groups are marginalized specifically, then we won't know how to teach people not to marginalize or how to adjust our society so that it can be more inclusive. For example, women are frequently pushed out of the workplace due to pregnancy/childbirth/breastfeeding. Therefore women have a unique need for maternity/parental leave and breastfeeding support. There are also needs caused by longstanding cultural prejudices and beliefs (racism, ageism, sexism etc). Often people don't even realize they are being prejudice when stereotypes have been culturally ingrained in them for years. We have to first address these issues before we can look at everything on equal footing. This isn't to say humanism is wrong - it just means that feminism/ combatting sexism falls neatly under the umbrella of humanism.

So if feminism has nothing to do with subversive agendas and power grabs... why do I feel the need to separate myself from it? The answer is actually quite simple. Feminism is being presented and defined by a culture that still requires it. That is to say, if a culture still requires feminism then women are obviously not being given equal representation. How do you think a culture that does not give its women equal representation will present feminism? Not very well.

Anita Sarkeesian, creator of Feminist Frequency and pop culture critic, has an excellent video that demonstrates many of the ways that our mainstream media denigrates "feminists" and creates a negative, extreme image of what feminism is. (Keep in mind any group has extremists, so this isn't to say that there aren't feminists out there with exaggerated, harmful views. They are, however, the minority.) I highly recommend watching it below. As a side note - Anita was recently driven from her home by death and rape threats in response to a feminist video game critique she uploaded.

So where am I going with all of this? Honestly, there are a million things I could talk about. This week alone I've found myself hitting my head against the wall regarding multiple issues. Media representation of women, the importance of marketing for young girls, common misconceptions about women's standing in our culture. I think, for now, I'm going to start by introducing the event that prompted me to write this post. 

Sam Pepper. That is to say sexual harassment and rape culture. I will follow up with my next post, addressing the topic more fully. I'd love to do it now, but it's been a busy week and the post is already getting on. A lot of people will be turned off simply by the topic, I don't want the length to discourage them further.

A week or two ago, Youtube contributor Sam Pepper was accused of sexual harassment (and later of a whole slew of crimes including rape and sexual assault). I'm going to let Laci Green tell you about it, because she's the one who brought a lot of attention to it in the first place.

How does this kind of thing happen? Why were his videos so popular in the first place? Is sexual harassment really that big a deal? Is it really that common? What can we do to prevent it and raise awareness?

I'll be taking a look at these questions and more next week. For now, feel free to comment, discuss and ask questions. See you next Sunday.