Interestingly enough, the webpage I am getting my numbers from also includes a little chart at the bottom that tells you where New York is ranked compared to other states in regards to various crime rates. Interestingly enough, out of the 51 states (Plus Washington D.C.) New York has consistently held the fiftieth spot on the list. That means that there is only one state in the entire country with a lower reported rape rate than the state of New York. In all my years of growing up and watching Law and Order: Special Victim Unit I never would have guessed that New York had one of the lowest incidences of reported rape in the country. It makes me wonder just how many rapes go on reported and if that statistic can actually be a true reflection on the safety of women in New York.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
New York Rape Statistics
I spent some time researching New York's crime statistics since 1965 and found out some pretty interesting things. The number of rapes rose dramatically between 1971 and 1972. In 1971 there were just 3,225 incidents of reported forcible rape where as in 1972 there were 4,199 reported incidents. The scariest thing about this statistic is that while the number of reported rapes rose so dramatically, the overall number of crimes reported decreased by over 30,000 from 1971 to 1972. This makes me think that perhaps the era of "free love" wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I also wonder,how many cases went unreported just as Andrea's all did. If the people who were in similar situations to Andrea's went forward with their stories, just how much higher would that number be?
On the Pitfalls of Sitting on a Pedestal
In a class discussion a few weeks ago, the idea was posited that a
goal of feminism is for women to be seen as "equal to men, without
their flaws," and I respectfully disagree. I think putting women on a
pedestal this way is incredibly harmful to women's progress, and
manifests in so-called "benevolent sexism." An example that readily
comes to mind is the stereotype that "men are rational, women are
emotional," and the implications of that--essentially, in many places
it is considered an unspoken rule that women must give up their career
aspirations to stay home, supporting a man and raising their children.
Anyone who objects is "not a real woman," selfish, and neglecting
"the most important job in the world."
The truth is, American culture does not value childrearing. We do not
think it is important, although we all pretend to. Caregivers, whether
they are nannies, school teachers, or housewives, receive pitiful
compensation across the board (Of course, housewives do not receive
financial compensation for their work. But in divorce situations, I
frequently hear of men thinking they are entitled to all/the vast
majority of the household income because their wives were unemployed,
seemingly without realizing that their wives' unemployment is
precisely the reason they were able to have said careers). The
embarrassing reality is in the year 2012, we have a significant pay
discrepancy between men and women, corrected for hours worked,
education, experience, and whether or not they have children. Meanwhile,
Republican politicians are desperately trying to pretend the wage gap
does not exist, while simultaneously repealing equal pay laws, sexual
harassment laws, attacking reproductive rights (the impetus for
women's entrance into the work force), and then claiming the War on
Women is a "fiction" akin to a "War on Caterpillars." The right
seems to want nothing as badly as women barefoot and pregnant in the
kitchen once again. Because the truth is, if our culture thought
childrearing was important, men would be doing it.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, aspiring for women to be seen
without flaws in to deny our inherent humanity. And saying that women
need to be flawless for feminism to be "achieved" or successful is
counterproductive. No one is flawless! If that is what we need to
achieve to be equal to men, we might as well just throw in the towel.
goal of feminism is for women to be seen as "equal to men, without
their flaws," and I respectfully disagree. I think putting women on a
pedestal this way is incredibly harmful to women's progress, and
manifests in so-called "benevolent sexism." An example that readily
comes to mind is the stereotype that "men are rational, women are
emotional," and the implications of that--essentially, in many places
it is considered an unspoken rule that women must give up their career
aspirations to stay home, supporting a man and raising their children.
Anyone who objects is "not a real woman," selfish, and neglecting
"the most important job in the world."
The truth is, American culture does not value childrearing. We do not
think it is important, although we all pretend to. Caregivers, whether
they are nannies, school teachers, or housewives, receive pitiful
compensation across the board (Of course, housewives do not receive
financial compensation for their work. But in divorce situations, I
frequently hear of men thinking they are entitled to all/the vast
majority of the household income because their wives were unemployed,
seemingly without realizing that their wives' unemployment is
precisely the reason they were able to have said careers). The
embarrassing reality is in the year 2012, we have a significant pay
discrepancy between men and women, corrected for hours worked,
education, experience, and whether or not they have children. Meanwhile,
Republican politicians are desperately trying to pretend the wage gap
does not exist, while simultaneously repealing equal pay laws, sexual
harassment laws, attacking reproductive rights (the impetus for
women's entrance into the work force), and then claiming the War on
Women is a "fiction" akin to a "War on Caterpillars." The right
seems to want nothing as badly as women barefoot and pregnant in the
kitchen once again. Because the truth is, if our culture thought
childrearing was important, men would be doing it.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, aspiring for women to be seen
without flaws in to deny our inherent humanity. And saying that women
need to be flawless for feminism to be "achieved" or successful is
counterproductive. No one is flawless! If that is what we need to
achieve to be equal to men, we might as well just throw in the towel.
Would you all have taken back anything that you said in class if
you knew there was a rape victim in the room?
If I'd Known Then What I Know Now...
I've waited until the end of the semester to share this blog post because for the longest time I wasn't sure that I had the confidence to share this story, especially with strangers. When I registered myself for this class back in fall I had no idea what I would be facing over the next several months. As most of you are probably aware, there was a string of rape and attempted rapes surrounding campus in the weeks between Thanksgiving break and winter break. Specifically, they seemed to affect the Greek community in almost all instances. Not only were two of the girls who were attacked Panhellenic friends of mine, I grew up with both of them. Having not just one but two friends be affected by sexual abuse is an experience I wish I could run away from and never have to face. The first attack's victim, right after Thanksgiving, was one of my high school best friends. When I heard the news of what had happened the next morning, I was in shock. Writing about it right now gives me goosebumps and even brings tears to my eyes. Hoping to never have to go through those emotions ever again I was thrown in to shock when three weeks later I found out that a second girl who I have had classes with since 6th grade was attacked at knifepoint when getting in to her car. I now know I have two of the bravest friends anyone could ever ask to have in their lives.
Something I had never imagined facing in my entire life I was forced to confront twice in just a month. My mom didn't want to me to even come back for the Spring semester, yet alone be taking a class that would be constantly reminding me of what two people I love were continuing to battle. I wasn't so afraid though. I put a pepper spray on my keychain and once again felt invincible. I knew though, after reading just the first five pages of Mercy, how wrong that feeling was. Pepper spray wouldn't hold off an attacker, and in the moment, who knows if I would even be thinking enough to use it. The fear I had tried so hard to allow take over me was slowly returning. The vivid descriptions Andrea used to describe the attacks left me crying in my bed as I felt my friends' pain they have been suffering. Maybe my mom was right, I shouldn't have taken this class, The pain I feel for my friends is very real and the images it has placed in my head I will never be able to remove.
So if you were to ask me, would I take this class again if I'd known then what I know now, the honest answer is that I really don't think I would. To know the pain that my friends are suffering and to never be able to get this images out of my head is not something I would ever want to wish upon anyone.
The Dilemma: Violence and Sex
At the beginning of this class, I believed that violence in a sexual
setting was sometimes appealing and sexy. It could give you a rush, a
taste of something different, sometimes something that could even is
craved. I think sexual intercourse is natural, fun, individual and an
act so very unique each time whether it is with the same person or
someone new. This, of course is my belief, and these thoughts are about
consensual sex. This is the setting where the "violence" is
discussed and perhaps even directed to your liking. In this way, behind
the bedroom door (or in the kitchen, in the car, or wherever it occurs)
I believe acting in something other than a purely gentle and romantic
way sexually is acceptable. One of the definitions of violence I found
is "an unjust or unwarranted exertion of force or power", so in this
respect, as I had expected before I looked up the definition, this
consensual situation where one person is in a more assertive physical
control and may act in a more forceful way, may not necessarily be
"violence" at all. I think what makes all the difference is the
intent. In consensual sexual relationships, although this forcefulness
is an added element to a sexual encounter, there is (or at least should
be if it is consensual) a common goal of feeling good.
All this being said, this novel has definitely challenged this belief
of mine and affected me more than I thought it would. I have never known
anyone who has been a victim of rape so the idea was distant and almost
unreal to me. You never expect that to happen but it happens to people
quite often. It can happen whether you are on the streets like Andrea,
at a bar in Gainesville, or walking home from the library. After reading
Andrea's story, I feel like I know someone who has been raped. Having
this very detailed information about it, I have started to question
whether violence in sex is okay still. I've been going back and forth
between this thought for quite a while now and I think that just like
everything in life, every event is separate from another with separate
scenarios and settings and each person is different. There are people
who use violence in sex to hurt, torture, and assert their dominance.
And there are people who use "violence" to pleasure another person,
by their choice or a mutual interest in releasing the endorphins of pain
and pleasure simultaneously. This is all I can assert for myself now and
I know this is going to be a topic that I will be thinking about for a
long time to come, especially since I am reminded of it now with each
advertisement, television show, or movie I see.
setting was sometimes appealing and sexy. It could give you a rush, a
taste of something different, sometimes something that could even is
craved. I think sexual intercourse is natural, fun, individual and an
act so very unique each time whether it is with the same person or
someone new. This, of course is my belief, and these thoughts are about
consensual sex. This is the setting where the "violence" is
discussed and perhaps even directed to your liking. In this way, behind
the bedroom door (or in the kitchen, in the car, or wherever it occurs)
I believe acting in something other than a purely gentle and romantic
way sexually is acceptable. One of the definitions of violence I found
is "an unjust or unwarranted exertion of force or power", so in this
respect, as I had expected before I looked up the definition, this
consensual situation where one person is in a more assertive physical
control and may act in a more forceful way, may not necessarily be
"violence" at all. I think what makes all the difference is the
intent. In consensual sexual relationships, although this forcefulness
is an added element to a sexual encounter, there is (or at least should
be if it is consensual) a common goal of feeling good.
All this being said, this novel has definitely challenged this belief
of mine and affected me more than I thought it would. I have never known
anyone who has been a victim of rape so the idea was distant and almost
unreal to me. You never expect that to happen but it happens to people
quite often. It can happen whether you are on the streets like Andrea,
at a bar in Gainesville, or walking home from the library. After reading
Andrea's story, I feel like I know someone who has been raped. Having
this very detailed information about it, I have started to question
whether violence in sex is okay still. I've been going back and forth
between this thought for quite a while now and I think that just like
everything in life, every event is separate from another with separate
scenarios and settings and each person is different. There are people
who use violence in sex to hurt, torture, and assert their dominance.
And there are people who use "violence" to pleasure another person,
by their choice or a mutual interest in releasing the endorphins of pain
and pleasure simultaneously. This is all I can assert for myself now and
I know this is going to be a topic that I will be thinking about for a
long time to come, especially since I am reminded of it now with each
advertisement, television show, or movie I see.
Wrong
One of my closest friends was raped.
Rape is always one of those things that I have always thought happens
on the news, in movies, in books. Not to us, not to people I know,
certainly not to people I love.
Getting that phone call from a crying friend two years ago was a shock
to my system. It wasn't real, that doesn't happen. I was scared, scared
for me, scared for her. I was angry. I wanted to find him and I wanted
to hurt him.
I convinced her to go to the police. It was a painful experience,
because apparently she had done everything wrong. She waited too long
to come in, the drug was out of her system, wrong. She showered after
because she felt dirty and wanted his smell gone, wrong. She threw away
her underwear because they were ripped, wrong. She hid in that room,
with her eyes closed, until he was gone, wrong. She drank at that
party, wrong. She danced with him, wrong.
What happened to her was wrong. What he did to her was wrong. How it
made her feel was wrong. The police officers treated her like a toddler
asking too many questions in the back seat of a car while mommy is
trying to drive. They were exasperated with her. She stopped trying.
Finally, they caught someone. He made the mistake of taunting her. He
remembered her name from before he put that drug in her drink. He found
her on facebook and made a fake profile. He sent her private messages
to remind her of what he did. He wanted to continue to hurt her.
The police found his computer. They found him.
But that isn't enough. His lawyers are making it her fault. Everything
about her is wrong again. The way she dressed the way she danced the
way she talked the way she smelled the way she smiled. She wanted it.
It was her fault.
They are bringing up her history. She is going to have to get on the
stand and talk about every man she has ever touched, every joint she
has ever smoked, every drink she has ever had. All of the things that
she has done that were wrong.
This is rape culture. We blame the victim. We make them defend
themselves and their past on the witness stand, something no defendant
is required to do. We say she was asking for it, we say maybe it didn't
happen, she just wants attention.
If she had been robbed, if she had been beaten, if she had been
threatened, if she had been a he, then it would be the criminal that
was in the wrong. But she was raped. It was horrible. And now they want
to make her prove it. Relive it. And maybe a jury won't believe her
because she wasn't a saint before it happened. But I don't know many of
those. And she was a good girl; an honors student, a republican, a
Christian, an upstanding member of society. She is a parent's dream.
But she is still not good enough for the court.
Is it worth it?
Andrea has every right to be angry, every right to not tell anyone what
happened to her. It seems that nothing good comes from it. My friend
could have spent the past two years forgetting, but instead, things are
just getting started. Two years of hell extended to three or four or
more if he goes free. She can't move on, they won't let her. They want
her to relive the worst night of her life, and then have people tell
her she is a slut and a liar.
This is rape culture. It's unfair how we treat a woman who has the
courage to come forward and admit what happened to her. We make it
shameful, we make it a fight. A fight too often lost.
That's wrong.
Rape is always one of those things that I have always thought happens
on the news, in movies, in books. Not to us, not to people I know,
certainly not to people I love.
Getting that phone call from a crying friend two years ago was a shock
to my system. It wasn't real, that doesn't happen. I was scared, scared
for me, scared for her. I was angry. I wanted to find him and I wanted
to hurt him.
I convinced her to go to the police. It was a painful experience,
because apparently she had done everything wrong. She waited too long
to come in, the drug was out of her system, wrong. She showered after
because she felt dirty and wanted his smell gone, wrong. She threw away
her underwear because they were ripped, wrong. She hid in that room,
with her eyes closed, until he was gone, wrong. She drank at that
party, wrong. She danced with him, wrong.
What happened to her was wrong. What he did to her was wrong. How it
made her feel was wrong. The police officers treated her like a toddler
asking too many questions in the back seat of a car while mommy is
trying to drive. They were exasperated with her. She stopped trying.
Finally, they caught someone. He made the mistake of taunting her. He
remembered her name from before he put that drug in her drink. He found
her on facebook and made a fake profile. He sent her private messages
to remind her of what he did. He wanted to continue to hurt her.
The police found his computer. They found him.
But that isn't enough. His lawyers are making it her fault. Everything
about her is wrong again. The way she dressed the way she danced the
way she talked the way she smelled the way she smiled. She wanted it.
It was her fault.
They are bringing up her history. She is going to have to get on the
stand and talk about every man she has ever touched, every joint she
has ever smoked, every drink she has ever had. All of the things that
she has done that were wrong.
This is rape culture. We blame the victim. We make them defend
themselves and their past on the witness stand, something no defendant
is required to do. We say she was asking for it, we say maybe it didn't
happen, she just wants attention.
If she had been robbed, if she had been beaten, if she had been
threatened, if she had been a he, then it would be the criminal that
was in the wrong. But she was raped. It was horrible. And now they want
to make her prove it. Relive it. And maybe a jury won't believe her
because she wasn't a saint before it happened. But I don't know many of
those. And she was a good girl; an honors student, a republican, a
Christian, an upstanding member of society. She is a parent's dream.
But she is still not good enough for the court.
Is it worth it?
Andrea has every right to be angry, every right to not tell anyone what
happened to her. It seems that nothing good comes from it. My friend
could have spent the past two years forgetting, but instead, things are
just getting started. Two years of hell extended to three or four or
more if he goes free. She can't move on, they won't let her. They want
her to relive the worst night of her life, and then have people tell
her she is a slut and a liar.
This is rape culture. It's unfair how we treat a woman who has the
courage to come forward and admit what happened to her. We make it
shameful, we make it a fight. A fight too often lost.
That's wrong.
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