If you haven’t read this
post, do that first. Second, I am fully aware of how lucky I’ve been. Yes, these “long reaching fingers” have touched me but so many women have had it so much worse.
The guy who proposed a few weeks ago is back. I took out many of the details from the original post but a few more are necessary now. I’ll call him Lee (not his real name). Lee approached me after Mass one Sunday in Lahore, this spring. I was polite but definitely not warm. Over the next few months, he would frequently try to talk to me after Mass. My body language should have been a clue about my lack of interest. It wasn’t. I didn’t share much about myself or my family. Each time, I tried to walk by hoping Lee wouldn’t notice me and I could get to my car without talking to him. I even started covering my head in church like most of the other women so my blonde hair wouldn’t stick out. None of it worked. I was glad when Ramadan came because it made moot his request to have dinner with me.
Then it was June and I was leaving Pakistan. I figured this would be the end of Lee in my life even though I did agree to his request about being friends on Facebook. Again, I was wrong. For awhile, the messages were short, albeit frequent. Mostly asking I was and how life was going. As in person, I tried to be polite but not encouraging. My short replies and long response time didn’t seem to send any messages to him about my lack of interest.
Around late August, things started getting more intense. First, Lee asked if he could talk to me. I ignored it. Then, he proposed. I was shocked. My response was that I didn’t even know him really and I definitely didn’t feel the same. He then tried to impress me with his research of the town where I grew up. His messages wouldn’t stop despite my constant replies that I wasn’t interested. Eventually, I told him there was no chance and I was going to unfriend him on Facebook since he wouldn’t leave me alone. What followed was five weeks where he was completely out of my mind. Until yesterday.
I’ve woken up the past two days to messages from Lee. Yesterday he asked me how I was and how life was in Guatemala. I didn’t respond. This morning he said, “I know you’re angry with me. I apologize forgive me please rose.” Ironically, I
wasn’t angry until he contacted me again.
So what does this have to do with rape culture?! Lee, like so many guys, won’t believe me when I say, “NO.” He believes that because he has feelings for me, I owe him something. Maybe not consciously, but that’s what his actions reveal. If he asks enough times, he thinks I will fall madly in love with him and want to spend the rest of my life with him.
And, in a twisted way, he could even try to blame me. After all, I was nice to him (because I don’t like to be rude). I dressed attractively (because the lose, lightweight traditional clothes in Pakistan are so darn comfortable). I kept going to church where he would see me (because the time was most convenient for me). I let him find me on Facebook (because, again, I can be too nice for my own good). Despite the message sent by my body language, short replies, long response time, trying to avoid him in person, multiple messages saying I’m not attracted to him, blunt demand that he not contact me, and unfriending him on Facebook, Lee STILL doesn’t believe that I mean it when I say, “NO.”
Rape doesn’t happen out of nowhere. It doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It comes from an attitude that because a guy has feelings for a woman or girl, she owes him something. It comes from the attitude that “No doesn’t really mean no.” It comes from the attitude that “If I ask/bother/pressure her enough, no will become yes.” It comes from the idea that if a woman is seen living her life - be it wearing a shalwar kameez in a Pakistani Catholic Church or getting drunk in a miniskirt - she is “available and
willing” for whatever a guy wants. I don’t expect that Lee would go so far as to rape me even if he wasn’t thousands of miles away. The same cannot be said for every guy.
Lee’s not the first guy who has acted this way to me. Chances are highly likely , he won’t be the last. Yes, I’ve been blessed to have been barely brushed by these “long reaching fingers.” But why do they have to touch any of us at all?
“But, but, but...” you might splutter, “I/my son/brother/etc would never rape someone.” Good. I hope not. However, do you accept no as an answer? Do you push (past a reasonable persistence... if you’re not sure, you’ve probably gone too far already) for a different response? Do you defend women when other guys are talking about us as if we owe them something? Do you believe women when say they’ve been assaulted or raped? Do you try to put the blame on the victim? Do you tell people it’s, “a scary time to be a guy,” because there is a chance that a few of the actually reported rapes (remember, the significant portion are never reported) are false despite the fact that, statistically
speaking, at least one of myself or my three sisters will be raped in our lives?
At the end of the day, I can talk or write until I’m blue in the face. So can every woman. It won’t make a difference. There is no appropriate way for us to act to avoid unwanted contact or pressure. The change must come from men. Until men accept that women don’t owe them anything, nothing will ever change. If you are a man who truly wants to support the women in your life, change starts with you. Stand up for us when others are discussing us as objects or we’re the topic of all too common “locker room talk,” no matter where it happens. I know there are good men out there. You can make a positive difference. For me. For my sisters. For my friends. For every woman who wishes it was possible for us to affect this desperately needed change.
