Thursday 30 October 2014

It's a beautiful day for harassment.

Yesterday a popular video filled my Facebook news feed, shared exclusively by my female friends. This video, produced by Hollaback, a non-profit organization fighting street harassment with education started a conversation which I feel is very one-sided. A conversation I'd like to explore further.

In the video a woman walks the streets of NYC for 10 hours and documented 100+ incidents of "street harassment." I put that term in quotes this time because I'm not 100% in agreement that what was documented fits the definition. Harassment is defined as: the act or an instance of harassing, or disturbing, pestering, or troubling repeatedly; persecution. (dictionary.com.) The word "harassment" implies something sinister or lascivious.

There is no doubt that this video documents the fact that on the street people make comments about you: your body- "God bless you Mami. DAMN!"your face- "Smile!" everything else- "I just saw a thousand dollars!" And I'm not defending that. However, those comments are much less prevalent than the many incidents of "how are you today?" that repeatedly get tossed her way and ignored. 

I do not consider asking a person how they are or greeting them with a "good morning" or "good evening" harassment. I think this video is painting men a very unfavorable shade by claiming that they are "harassing" this woman when most of them are greeting her and then going about their day. "Harassment" by definition requires repetition and most of these men say something and then walk away.

I am not afraid of men who speak to me. I am afraid of men who follow me, as one does to her, I am afraid of men who openly masturbate at me, as has been done twice to me on the NYC subway and I am afraid of men who shout at me. These are scary things. But I refuse to be made afraid of a man wishing me "good morning." 

When I first moved to NYC in 2002 I felt terribly alone. I met the eyes of nearly everyone I passed on the street and I smiled or said "good morning." Not everyone said it back, maybe they were afraid of me. That's a terrible thought. I'm not scary. 

I remember complaining about this to my Dad; telling him how no one smiled at me like they did in my small home town. I can only imagine my dad in NYC, remembering those conversations with me and greeting young women on the street. Young women, who like his daughter may have been feeling very alone. The very idea that he could have been filmed in that video and now defined as a "street harasser" makes me feel sick and sad. We have to stop searching for reasons to be afraid of men. 

I comment on women's appearances all the time. Right or wrong, that's our culture and we feel like we are invested in, and can judge others' physicality. Think I'm wrong? Look how many copies of US Weekly and Heat are sold each week. We love it. I have most definitely been known to say "wow!" out loud if I see a beautiful woman, or a beautiful man. If they were walking past me with two microphones in their hands you would have heard me. My comments are never meant to intimidate anyone. But regardless of intent, I'd now be labeled a "street harasser."

I was raised that if something is lovely, you say it. Someone might be having the worst day of their life and if you tell them you like their shirt or that they look beautiful, you might improve their day just a little bit. Is it only OK for me to do that if I'm a woman? Or is it not OK at all and we should just stop fucking talking to each other? 

Street harassment is a very real thing and it is really, really scary. Please don't misunderstand me. But by this video's definition I am a street harasser. A wink, a smile, a friendly greeting should not cause us to be afraid. Nevertheless I worry this video will cause men to be afraid. To shut up and stop talking to us just in case they inadvertently provoke the opposite response they expected or wanted. 

I refuse to victimize myself as a woman and I refuse to vilify you as a man. Please keep wishing me "good morning." I will continue to answer back.


Monday 20 October 2014

The question continues...

I went to a feminist book club last week. For those of you who read this, you will either be totally repulsed by that idea or totally jealous. You should be the latter, it was awesome.

I met about fifteen other women who wanted to talk about stuff I wanted to talk about and who were interested in the same kinds of conversations I wanted to have about said stuff. None of this 'I'm right, you're wrong' bullshit, but more 'I hear you and am interested, tell me more.' I felt that I had the opportunity to consider a lot of ideas I hadn't thought about before and at the same time that I had met a group of like-minded women I am psyched to meet again. We didn't all agree with each other, in fact, we challenged more than we acquiesced and something someone said has lingered with me this whole week.

The subject of rape came up again, as it is likely to do when discussing sexual politics and inequalities between genders. Also I was shamelessly plugging my blog, which unfortunately recently has been about the same subject. Anyway, one of the women in the group said that she found it unfair that if a woman is too drunk to give consent, than surely a man can be too drunk to control himself. Whuuuuh? To be honest, this was a totally new idea to me, so I didn't want to dismiss it, I wanted to think about it. So I have.

Drunk, incapacitated women are so often the victims of sexual assault, that to then excuse this assault by saying that a man simply loses control of his faculties and has to forceably put his penis or other object into someone else's body is pretty fucked up. But here we are again (dum dum duuuuum)Is it rape? Is this a crazy double standard we've been peddling all this time? A way to avoid regret by calling rape? I say 'nay.'

In my experience, if you can get it up, you have an idea about what you are doing. All my male mates have the same response to too much alcohol as I do: they pass the fuck out. They don't grow massive hard-on and seek place to bury it. If you are putting your penis into someone who is too drunk to know what's going on or passed out, then you are a rapist. If you can't get it up and then still try and put things into someone else's body while they are incapacitated...well you, my friend are a whole new level of fucked, but you are also a rapist. And this shit is not exclusive to college like Katy Perry's brand of lesbianism. If you raped someone in college, you are a rapist. It's not a cute phase you went through.

Is it totally fucking crazy that I've been considering this for a week? No, and I'm glad I did. Far too often women are painted as victims and men as predators, but sometimes it's because that's just how it is sometimes. Sometimes, not all the time. I love men. Really, really love them and so therefore I refuse to believe that all me have the capacity to rape; that when a man gets too drunk his default identity is Rapey McRaper. I have intelligent, sexy, impressive men in my life. Men who drink and have drank a shitload of alcohol and none have raped.

Sadly I also have huge numbers of beautiful, smart, hilarious female friends who drink and at one time in their life have drank a shitload of alcohol and have woken up with dicks and other objects inside them and have been raped. It's just the truth. So I'm not saying in any way that women can lose control and men can't. I'm just saying that we both lose control in a similar way and it is a predator, not some poor, hapless drunk who rapes.

Hopefully the next time I'm here it will be with cheerier topics, but I do feel that this is important that we are thinking about it and talking about it. A lot of people have stories to share, but are silent because of the shame and the blame surrounding these incidents. Let's start to have the difficult conversations and start to get on the same side.

And if you need help: 
You can call Rapecrisis freephone helpline in the UK 0808 802 9999
And in the USA you can call 08006564673

Tuesday 14 October 2014

But is it rape?

Everyone knows how much I love Kesha (formerly Ke$ha), right? If you don't then you don't know me.

I love her enough to go see her twice, to pay money for her albums (I know all the words to both) and I even watched her really shit show, My Crazy Beautiful Life long after she drank her own pee and everyone else switched off. I. Love. Her.

Today it was reported that she is suing her producer Dr. Luke for sexual assault. She alleges that he, on numerous occasions got her drunk or drugged her and sexually molested her. As if this wasn't sad and infuriating enough, overwhelmingly the public's response is that she deserved it. Because she writes songs about 'brushing her teeth with a bottle of Jack' she should expect to be assaulted. Because she sings 'Pull over, sucker! Now spread 'em, Let me see what you're packin', Inside that denim,' she's earned a good non-consensual pounding.

When the fuck are we going to stop blaming victims for being victims? I don't give a half a shit if she was chugging whiskey, booty-butt nekked on this dude's pool table with her ass in the air. There is no excuse for someone to touch your body without your permission. And what is all this bullshit about 'is it rape?' All this qualifying shit? 'She was drunk so...was it rape?' 'She's continued working with him for so long so...was it rape?' 'She can't remember what happened to her so...was it rape?' Let me clear this up for everyone. If you are sexually assaulted when you are drunk, drugged or even if you are in a long term relationship, it counts.

Weighing in on a crime like it's Tracey Emin's unmade fucking bed. Is it art? Is trivializing a horrific crime that happens to a woman every fucking 45 seconds in the USA.


We need to get rid of this archaic idea that 'real' rape only happens in a dark alley with a weapon wielding stranger. Not everyone runs straight to the police or to the shower and sits in it for hours like the showed us on Lifetime TV, and just because they don't, it makes them no less of a victim.

I read the most rage-inducing story recently of a woman who was raped whilst she was drunk on holiday in a foreign country. She didn't run after it happened, she stayed the night at the party where the crime occurred, too afraid to head out in the strange, dark country alone. She went to the police the following day, but was met with disbelief and slight amusement when she reported that the attack had happened over 18 hours ago and that she had been intoxicated. It wasn't rape, they said, it was regret.

Fewer and fewer women are reporting rape and we wonder why? Nine out of ten women raped on college campus don't report it. Why would they when we sit and judge and mock and shame. I know too many people who have a story like Kesha's and there is always a reason they only talk about it in hushed circles; 'I dated him', 'I was drunk', 'I was flirting', 'It wasn't real rape' 'You can't rape a man.' When are we going to start supporting each other instead, so we don't have to feel so fucking alone? When are we going to start listening and stop all the judgement? Who is it helping?

I am supporting Kesha, not just because I love and respect her as an artist, but because I respect her as a person. The conversation surrounding her revelation is all wrong. We need to stop talking about how many of her songs were about partying and start focusing on how to support people who are brave enough to seek the justice they deserve.





Sunday 5 October 2014

Am I Right? Yes you are!

On Thursday evening I made my monthly pilgrimage to The Soho Theatre. I decided awhile ago that I was not taking full advantage of all the wonderful opportunities that London affords to see live performance. So as a solution I vowed to go and see something each month that I had never heard of. This was how I discovered Lady Rizo and saw shows like The Children's Hour, so far I'd had pretty amazing luck.

Whilst in the queue for Lady Rizo last month I saw a poster of what looked like quite a bolshy young woman holding her jacket open to reveal a studded bra.The look on her face said 'You like this? Of course you do.' I'd like to think it's a similar face to what I would make if I was opening my jacket and exposing my bra to you. So I booked tickets to this lady's performance knowing nothing about her, but that she was probably American and that she had awesome hair. The title of the show was 'Am I Right, Ladies?' So I was looking forward to seeing if she was.

I make it a practice to not Google my monthly performances (not a euphemism.) I like to be surprised and to always see live acts with an unprejudiced eye. I'll spare you the details of how we (myself and my gorgeous companion Hannah) arrived super early (see post about Lady Rizo) and queued up for ages and then ran downstairs like two squealing children only to be told that the show was, in fact two floors up and had already started. Face palm.

Once we found the right theatre and were told off for trying to bring glass in, we were shown to our seats which were on the right side of the balcony. A woman was on stage, who I have to say looked little like the promotional poster. She was blonde, not dark haired and looked younger, thinner and slightly less glamorous. I suppose replacing a fur coat and a studded bra with a PVC skirt and plimsoles will do that to a girl.

To the soundtrack of Beyonce she was shuffling/dancing around the stage, clearly waiting for idiots like us to take our seats. Once we had, she introduced herself and then demanded we demonstrate some of our dance moves. I loved her already. From rapid shoulder-raises to a miniature cabbage patch we were all moving in unison and giving Luisa our 'sex face.' It is at this stage that I realized she was not American, but British. No American has an accent, or a sex face like hers.

Once she had suitably warmed us up, she began by telling us that she had already had one very successful show a few years ago and that this was her sequel. She got standing ovations every night, but alas her life was still full of one night stands and bus rides home. From the first few statements out of Luisa's mouth, 'And when I say bitches, I mean the men too. Equality.' It was apparent that she was a feminist who was doing an incredibly inclusive show, but speaking from her very personal experience. This was going to be something really exciting.

Luisa managed to celebrate her body, comparing her little pot-belly to a Prada bag, without putting anyone else down. There was no mention of 'skinny bitches.' There were no comparisons. She was telling her story with passion, power, total hilarity and managed to keep every single woman and man in that theatre on her side. It was such a finely crafted show that none of us wanted to move when she stepped off stage, but at the same time we all wanted to bum-rush her and congratulate her on doing such a fantastic job.

It would be a cliche to describe her show as 'brave' but it really was. From recounting loveless sexual encounters to the heartbreak of being cheated on and the incredibly accurate statements she makes about gender equality and mental illness, she's fucking brave and I wish that we were seeing more of her and seeing more comedians like her emerging.

In today's society where even my beloved Lee Evans has started to make domestic violence jokes in a bid to appear relevant, comics like Luisa are doing it totally effortlessly and without being abrasive or offensive. You leave the show wanting to be her friend and wanting to thank her for saying a million things you've always been thinking. She is the representation of what it means to be young, broke and single in London. I don't want to spoil things for you, but there are many splendid surprises peppered throughout the show and each one is expertly timed. She breaks your heart, makes you rise to your feet in solidarity and cheer until your throat is raw for this wonderful show and this incredible woman.

'Am I Right Ladies?' has finished its short run at The Soho Theatre, but its predecessor 'What Would Beyonce Do?' Is running at The Leciester Square Theatre. You can get tickets here: http://www.seetickets.com/event/luisa-omielan-what-would-beyonce-do/leicester-square-theatre/792809
Come with me! And you can find out more about Luisa here: http://www.iloveluisa.com/