Sorry to Alert You That You're a Rapist

(It's Not My Problem, TECHNICALLY)

[This article discusses rape and describes one assault in detail.]

When that guy prodded me for the details of my sexual assault a few days ago, I was furious about it for days. If you count on your fingers, that makes me… still furious about it.

The day I wrote about it, I had woken up at 3:30 am. My cat, Georgie, had meowed; I needed to pee; I remembered what that guy had done. I was so angry, I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up, adding his texts to artwork and thinking through the bizarre event and what it meant; why it was so terrible.

I reckoned, this is the benefit of being a writer, right? You get to work out the things other people must sublimate as they work for The Man? This is my debt to society, no?

It really felt that big, at 3:30 am.

I wrote that essay, not knowing if I would be able to articulate why it’s so awful to be in this position, of explaining your rape to a straight man so he can work out his post-Weinstein rape philosophy shit on you, swearing all the while that he believes believes believes. (In particular, I singled out straight men for doing this, since those are the most consistent people to do it to me, but Reader Paul asked what-about-the-gays, so if they ever do this to me, I promise I’ll tell Paul and you).

Right away, I started hearing from people who had experienced the engulfing effects of a conversation like this. The word “enraging” came up several times. Whitney felt violated when this happened. Alex said it’s like “ripping open your chest” for the other person’s supposedly “minor edification.” Lea silenced herself.

Then Reader Krista (not her name) sent me this: her own confrontation with the man who had ruined her happiness for two years.

It starts with the anguish of someone who has been holding something terrible in, for a very long time.

Sorry to cut off Krista, but can we picture this scene, please?

Krista is alone with Fella in his home, where he emphasizes his roommates cannot hear them. Krista is drunk, vulnerable from a breakup, and she tells him she doesn’t want to have sex; only kiss and cuddle. Suddenly this guy is “roughly” going down on her. What would anybody do in this situation but freeze up? You thought you said no before it began; you hadn’t expected to have to say it twice. You are caught in categorical limbo, deciding whether to scream and push or freeze and go limp. The rush to make that decision is, itself, the rape.

When she analyzes what to do, she realizes she might be in danger:

If this encounter went the way Krista says, then Fella raped Krista by state law. How will Fella respond?

He will complain!

He will complain that Krista took too long to tell him he raped her!

Fucking look at this:

You might be thinking, “Aww but hang on, what is Fella supposed to say?!”

If somehow Fella’s been falsely accused, he should say so. He should say, “Huh?! You were drunk?! I didn’t see you drink!” or “Huh?! You said no?! I don’t remember that; I’m freaking out” or “Shit, I’m just making sure you have the right number. This is Krista, right? We drank Capri Suns together and watched The Office?”

Ya see, The Robot appears because the person steps back, analyzes their risk, and decides that engaging with you honestly is not in their best interest.

So I have no advice for the robot.

For many people, confronting your rapist via text and assuring them you think they’re one of the nice ones is — YES! — the best you can do.

Especially if you have social and professional connections with your own Fella. At least you’ve said your piece, told your story, called the event by Its Proper Name, if only to its major villain. This, on its own, builds your armor.

When I asked Krista how the texts looked to her now, looking back five years on, she said that she saw a man who took no accountability, a guy who spoke to a lawyer, ya know, turned robot. But she didn’t seem sorry she did it.

I’m proud of her.

Is there a better shortcut than confrontation to overcoming your interpersonal trauma?

Maybe.

But personally, I don’t like shortcuts.