Saturday, November 12, 2005

Rape Is Terrorism, Part 2



another great comment at alas a blog:

i would imagine that i have a somewhat unique perspective on the rape culture in which i was raised. you see, i’m transsexual. i was born and raised as a male, and lived as male for close to 45 years. for the past 5 years, i’ve been living as female.

up until i transitioned, i was exposed to what i would consider typical male rape culture elements. i consider these elements typical, because they were rather consistent no matter where i was, or who i was with. every part of what i see as rape culture, from the jokes that my male friends and co-workers told, to the way that they spoke about women, to the media images i saw, to the very language we, as a culture, use, seemed quite the same. i’ve done some extensive traveling in the u.s. in my last job as a corporate sales trainer, and these elements seemed very much the same regardless of where i was, or who i was with - at least when i was with men, who were the primary customers of the business i worked in.

as a man, i never feared going out by myself. while i did employ a certain degree of caution while, say, out at night in new york city for example, i’d never think twice about going to the mall at night, and never thought about my safety while i walked from the mall to my car in the parking lot.

i was definately socialized as male. i never was “coached” with regard to personal safety or sexual encounters, other than to receive the cultural message that the more sexual encounters i had, the more “manly” i was. my friends and co-workers often spoke of their sexual “conquests”, and they were always congratulated with each “victory”.

i feel i have a fairly deep understanding of male culture, having been exposed to it on a first hand basis for close to half a century.

my perspective with regard to my personal safety was shattered on the first day i began my “real life test” - the period of time during transition of most transsexuals when they begin living in their target gender everyday, all day. i wrote briefly about it in the “my rape story” thread.

at that moment, i realized how vulnerable i was, how i no longer had *any* power over my own body, and how at any point, most men could simply take me for their own purpose and use. it was a moment of clarity in a very real sense, as all those years of hearing my male contemporaries’ exploits came rushing through my memory. it was at that moment that i saw their stories in a very different light. it was then i realized the impact of their stories. they were talking about me.

i suppose i am part of a privileged section of the trans community. i seem to have been able to integrate fairly well into society as a woman. based on how people in general treat me, it would appear that i am taken as a woman, at least most of the time. i don’t hear any negative comments like i did while i was transitioning, the time during which my body was still changing from the hormones i was taking, and while i was in the process of removing my beard through electrolysis. people refer to me as “ma’am” (or “miss” on a good day) without any prompting on my part, and use female pronouns to reference me. and i don’t get any stares from passers-by. well, except for the bolder men who look at me with lust in their eyes, if i happen to be wearing tight jeans. and i totally recognise that stare - i saw it on my contemporaries on many, many occasions.

for the past 5 years, i’ve seen that stare from the other side, as the recipient, instead of an observer. and i never realized how uncomfortable and unsafe it could feel.

up until very recently, i hadn’t gone out at night by myself in close to five years. and when i go out alone during the day, i’m very aware of my surroundings. i always park my car as close to the door as possible. i always have my keys out when i walk back to my car. i always lock my doors. when i put gas in my car, i’m always scanning the area for danger. no one told me to do these things. i just do them, because i feel i have to, just to be safe. or safer. even though intellectually, i know that my efforts will probably do me no good.

when i moved to phoenix this past january, i noticed on the news that a serial rapist was working my general neighborhood. he’d enter apartments of women through their windows or sliding doors, and rape them in the early morning hours. even though i live in a house, i was always uncomfortable leaving the window open. so i didn’t. i was *very* happy when they caught him, just a few months ago. of course, now there’s another rapist in the neighborhood. he attacks women as they walk down the street at night. so again, i feel very unsafe when i go out at night alone. i restrict that now to only going to the gym after dark when i get home from work, where i can park in a well-lit parking lot, in view of the front desk attendant.

perhaps there are some who would call me paranoid. but i can’t help the way i feel, based on how i *know* men think of, speak about, and perceive women. while it’s true that not all men are potential rapists, as far as i’m concerned, most are, or at least most actively contribute to the rape culture in which we live. i believe this, because i am (or perhaps was) as much a part of it as any other man.

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