Dutchie Kutchie
GeoffP said:
That's the summation of your response?
To your pretense of ignorance? Well, it would seem the first thing to do is clear up your alleged confusion.
In which way does that deny the realities of the acronym you just made up? Do you even know what it's in response to?
You were responding to the critique of #NotAllMen, complaining about generalizations. As I asserted, "The obligations put upon women in the question of rape in society are such that functional generalizations about the dangers, complications, and other obstacles presented by men are
necessary considerations."
But you skipped that part to complain about what it explains.
So tell us, Geoff, what man should a woman not be inherently suspicious of according to Infinite Protection Advocacy? You? Me? Why?
We've got the theory of rape-dar on the record, but nobody can explain how it is women are just supposed to naturally know who's going to rape them, and nobody has shown a clairvoyance allele on the X chromosome. Maybe we should ask a geneticist where it is.
Meanwhile, Bells makes the point exactly, that she should be free to live as she chooses without this ever-present threat hanging over her head simply because she is XX and not XY.
Seriously, in all the times I've left my drink unattended, the two worst things that happened to it were a waitress not realizing I was over at the pool table and picking up a beer with a swallow left in it, or the time some alcoholic literally sat down at our table, drank our beer, and started smoking our cigarettes.
The idea that someone would drug me? Maybe if I was in the spy game, or organized crime, or something. Or Syd Barrett, I suppose. But I'm not a spy, or button man, or Pink Floyd frontman.
Thinking about seeing shows in town—
Showbox Market: A great place to see a show.
—I might pause to think about just how dangerous my conduct would be if I was a woman. My goodness, I'll even separate from my friends to go to the bathroom, or to get another drink, speak nothing of wander about the show floor aimlessly. See at the left edge of the photo, that person in the background with their arms folded? That person is with either the club or, more likely, the band; the green room is back there. But you also have to wander between the stage and green room to get to the men's. The women's is similarly situated out of camera range on the other side of the stage. Those lights in the back of the house, at the right edge of the frame? That's the bar. Well, one of them. That bright red-pink sign on the wall just right of center is another alcohol dispensary in the same bar area; there's another bar behind the photographer, and one up on the back wall out of frame to the right. Fifteen hundred capacity, three bar areas, and all ages on the floor.
You know what the best protection advice for women is, given everything they are expected to do to "prevent" rape? Stay the fuck out of the Showbox. Just walking in would screw the checklist, especially on a 21+ night when there are no minors on the floor.
Somebody passes a joint? No worries, mate. Pass the dutchie on the left-hand side[sup]†[/sup].
What is the difference?
To me, I just hit it up. Stoners are stoners are stoners. And bad stoner radar isn't as good as some might suggest, but usually they'll tell you if the jay is backed with anything. In stoner world, it's kind of a pride thing:
Dude, this is gonna make you see Andromeda!
For me, the precautions are simply whether this is the time it's dusted with something stupid or not, and whether security or police are close enough to bust me. That ought to be enough for women, too. Just like locking their cars against auto theft, or securing their laptops, or not leaving the front door unlocked at night.
But that aspect takes on a different functional shape for women. Inevitably, after any given rock show in Seattle, someone is going to get raped. Just like after any given football game, or whatnot. Rape is simply that common.
Don't take drugs offered you by a strange man? Sounds like great advice. To the other, I suppose the woman I randomly smoked out at a show—she happened to be looking at the pipe when I looked up—was just an idiot. To the upside, fine conversation, a groovin' set to follow, and a pleasant evening. Statistically speaking, she has more to fear from her boyfriend than she did from me. Not taking drugs offered by strangers ought to be good advice for not overdosing, accidentally taking the wrong thing, and such. The only reason it becomes a rape prevention tip is because the presumption that men simply fuck and women exist to be fucked persists.
There is a solidarity among fans at shows. It seems a shame to exclude women on the off chance that, as the biological theory goes, some confused guy might get horny. That woman has every right to smoke my pipe that any man I might hand it to would. I have no idea if the question of whether or not I would rape her went through her mind. I long for the day when there's no reason it should.
Unfortunately, we're supposed to spend the interim slowing progress by making excuses for rapists and pretending women are, inherently and collectively, complete idiots.
What it comes down to, it seems, is that a proposition suggesting men need to figure out how to not be rapists is consistently met with, "Well, what are ya gonna do? Ladies, it's up to you. An' lemme tell ya how."
And given the futility of
that advice, yeah, at some point it becomes irreconcilably misogynistic. And as a society, we crossed that line a long, long time ago.
___________________
Notes:
[sup]†[/sup] The lyric was, apparently, "pass the kutchie", which isn't as sexy as we treat the idea of "coochie". The kutchie, in this case, is a container for marijuana. As a side note, it is asserted that Musical Youth paved the way for blackness on MTV, allegedly getting regular rotation some weeks before MJ's "Billie Jean".
