A Note on Sympathy
Bells said:
After all, he is male and perhaps can understand and sympathise with male urges that lead men to rape?
Yes, no, and somewhere in between, but only so to speak.
Is that vague enough?
Okay, to wit: Do you have any idea how hard it was, yesterday to not wander around singing to myself, "Ding-dong, the Bitch is dead, the Bitch ol' Bitch, the Bitchy Bitch!"
I know, I know. Cry a river. Actually, in truth it wasn't that tough, no matter how much I enjoyed the sentiment. And it's easy enough to explain why it wasn't particularly hard:
(1) I'm one who believes I get it. That is to say, while the word works specifically for its cruel ferocity, there are too many people who will think it's about a woman achieving power. And, no, I'm not blaming them; this is the world we've made, all of us together, from the beginnings of humanity. The reasons
why many in the broader culture whose outlooks I respect would hold that concern are what we need to change, not the fact that they might focus on that aspect.
(2) It's really none of my business, anyway. It was twenty to thirty years ago, and only affected me in peripheral ways that exceeded my grasp at the time; my perceptions and understandings since have been rooted in political myth.
(3)
Mark Steel won the cruel scorn award yesterday, at 4:56 AM Pacific Time—i.e., before I was even aware of the situation—without actually using the word: "What a terrible shame—that it wasn't 87 years earlier". Ouch. 'Nuff said. No point in even going there.
But that's the thing. There are people I respect who would look at point one above and, ironically, call me a pussy for letting those assholes so obsessed with finding the evil in everything make me skip out on ephemeral gratification.
Roger Waters had a softer way of putting it in terms no less damning: "Maggie, what have you done?" Which, of course, reminds that there are plenty of ways to say it.
On the other hand, I think of a very common masculine instinct toward (
ahem!) "passionate" sexual intercourse. You know, thrust deep, hard, and with all his Manly Might. Hell, even I'm not immune to the instinct, though it seems more often than not I'd much rather
receive ... er ... um ... right.
Y'know?
Where the violence of abstraction—i.e., words and ideas—intersects with the violence of (
ahem!) "passionate" sexual congress is something of a mystery plot on an invisible graph buried in an unknown drawer in a pitch-dark warehouse of unknown dimensions. That is, just
how the various human proclivities come together and intereact with psyches of potentially infinite diversity to produce an effect that includes such a prominent rape phenomenon is like finding a needle in Andromeda.
And as you're seeing in these arguments, how people respond to the challenge ranges, to put it mildly, a broad spectrum.
The comfort of sloth. A metathesiophobic tendency. The spectre of self-indictment.
I'm aware of the instincts. I'm subject to them sometimes. I'm also aware of the burning rage some people feel when they wonder what it would be like if someone set off a bomb in the crowded stadium. That, "Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out", feeling. But, you know, shit, like I'm really going to give in. It's not even, really, a temptation, just a burning sentiment that you understand what a cinematic supervillain feels like. It's a tapping of myth.
Sexual issues, though, even when they loom so large as to be an abstraction, strike much more (er ...
ahem?) "intimately" than other forms of atrocity in our society. Most men in our societies do not see the worst effects of broader paradigms in society, be they economic, political, religious, &c. But most men in our societies know at least one woman.
This comes close because they can
see the evil. It is exceptionally proximal compared to the distally-viewed phenomenon of, say, sexual violence as a weapon of war in the third world. Or warfare in general. Or economic inequality and the injustice of stratification. This is close enough that they are generally capable by faculty to perceive any tributary relationship they might have with this phenomenon they believe they abhor. And it is proper to consider the horror they claim as genuine, as it is the simpler and more direct neurotic process. But therein lies the hook:
Holy shit ... I'm contributing to the Rape Culture!
Ego Defense Powers, activate! Form of ... a drunk woman. Shape of ... a short skirt.
It is not necessarily a conscious decision to follow the sublimated rape advocacy path. It is likely that at any given moment, one is
incapable of seeing the problem that escalates prevention theory to rape advocacy.
But in truth, I'm not sure how hard to knock on their skulls before that pushes them back into their shells.