A Recent Test Of My Bystander Intervention

2 06 2013

I have done some work in the past to advance bystander intervention approaches to sexual assault prevention.  In the days that I volunteered at Middle Way House, a local intimate partner violence and rape crisis shelter, I compiled a review of bystander intervention curricula, hopefully to extend MWH’s own anti-sexual violence curriculum.  Here, and at Kinsey Confidential, I have written about bystander intervention, as well — including using the approach to eliminate racism and its consequences.

I really like the notion of bystander intervention because it moves beyond victim-blaming, to place both the problem and the solution on society.  For sexual violence, this means recognizing the way that sexism purports an ideology that characterizes women as sex objects, and is manifest in organizations that promote or facilitate sexual violence.  It is much harder to focus exclusively on the perpetrator’s intentions (“maybe he got carried away”) or even the victim’s “guilt” when these incidents occur within a rape culture.  I see it as the missing complement to understanding social problems sociologically — that we must see the solutions as society’s responsibility, as well.

A Recent Test

A few days ago, I heard screaming from a nearby apartment.  Being nosy, I peeped out of my window to see what all of the commotion was.  I could locate the screaming to an apartment where a couple (I presume) argued.  I could make out some of what they said — something about a misplaced cellphone and, apparently, misplaced blame for its disappearance.  I watched as long as my fleeting interest held.

But, I felt that the arguing was quite heated.  I began to worry that it might develop into something worse.  It did.  “What did you say to me?  WHAT DID YOU SAY?” the man demanded.  Short of anything physical, this kind of verbal threat concerns me; it’s tone is hostile and intent is likely meant to scare the recipient.  And, through the small gap in their blinds, I could she him shake the woman and then push her against the wall.  Panic set in.  “I have got to do something,” I thought to myself.

First, I called 911.  The dispatcher calmly asked, “is it still just verbal at this point?”  Good – another concerned neighbor beat me to calling.  “No, he just pushed her against the wall.”  The police were sent to respond.  I felt my bystander intervention advocacy tested.  Do I run over, especially if it becomes more violent?  (How could I live with knowing something worse happened if I didn’t act?)  No, I have to live here for a while longer; my partner’s and my own safety cannot be overlooked.  I decided to call and text friends and family who either work in violence prevention or law enforcement — “what else can I do?”  That was it.  They all assured me that it was in the police department’s hands now.

The police did arrive soon after.  I could hear their knock at the front door; a dog began barking.  Fortunately, their arguing had settled slightly after I called 911, though the times of silence were no more settling for fear he had further hurt her.  I could not see or hear anything for a few minutes after the police arrived.

Then, the man, shirtless, darted behind the building.  I do not know whether he dashed passed the police, or even jumped from the second-floor apartment patio.  One police officer walked slowly behind him.  Then, I could hear police interviewing the woman, though it sounded as though they were badgering her.  She left with them to her own apartment.  After a while, the three police cars parked at the edge of the woods, which he ran into, left.  I was a little unsettled by a perpetrator being on the loose, so I peeked out every once in a while.  I noticed a police officer remained behind, probably to apprehend him if he returned.

The Aftermath

I had considered notifying my apartment complex about the incident.  But, I was not sure what would come of it.  Coincidentally, they emailed me the next day about a maintenance request I had not put in.  So, I let them know then.  With an apology for the disturbance, they let me know was evicted; he had that day to leave or be forced out by a Sheriff the next week.  I heard a commotion early the next week.  I presume he did not go willingly. But, he is gone for good.  But, the arguing suggests he was probably with his girlfriend/wife as he moved out.  This is what worried me.

Yes, I am relieved he was evicted.  It turns out this was the third time police have come for him.  And, I realized it was the second intimate partner violence incident within a week.  The previous weekend, I heard a woman’s frantic screams, but police were already involved so I did not investigate further.  Another nosy neighbor said to her boyfriend as they passed me, “I don’t know why she would scream that much about a broken window.”  She was probably screaming in sheer terror because this man, her boyfriend/husband who has a history of attacking and terrorizing her, was coming after her (again).  (This is my point about the problem of culture.  These people dismissed her as overreacting and never thought about her or him again.)

He is gone from this neighborhood, but who knows whether he moved in with her.  She is not out of harms way.  If their relationship ends, he may continue to perpetrate violence against others (and may already be doing so).

Bystander InterventionS

This, of course, was not the first time I have been tested.  There are many ways in which I have had, and sometimes taken, the opportunity to intervene in preventing violence and its consequences.  For, intervening is not merely about the immediate violent situation.  I can intervene by challenging comments and jokes that justify, glorify, or ignore violence.  I can support victims of violence, even as simply as offering emotional support, saying “I believe you” and “this is not your fault”; if they allow, and I am equipped to do so, I can offer resources to leave on-going violent situations or rebuild their lives.  I can work to educate others, especially to see violence as a social problem and prevention as a community responsibility.

I still do not feel that I did enough.  But, in the grand scheme, I did as much as I could safely do, and I continue to work on violence prevention at broad level.  The situation forced the reminder that my gift is in education, in research, in disseminating knowledge, and speaking out in general.  It is important that I do my part from these strengths and my own perspective, rather than trying to be superman.  And, I hope others will (continue to) do their part, as well.


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Categories : Academia, Activism, Advocacy, Blogging, Bystander Intervention, Dating Violence, Domestic Violence, Education, Gender, Intimate Partner Violence, Justice, Kinsey Confidential, Law, Me, Men, Patriarchy, Rape Culture, Sexism, Sexual Assault, Sexual Violence, Social Problems, Society, Teaching, Victim-Blaming, Violence Against Women, Violence Prevention, Voice, Women

[kinsey] April Is Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM) – Are We Aware Yet?

22 04 2013

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

There is still a little over a week left in April – Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM).  This is our annual 30-day-long recognition of a problem that affects far too many people, especially girls and women: sexual violence.  The primary goals of the month is to raise awareness about sexual violence and, ultimately, eliminate it all together.

With nearly forty years of anti-sexual violence activism — are we aware yet?  Unfortunately, not so much.

What Is Sexual Violence?

An important starting point for raising awareness about sexual violence is to define it.  A major focus of sexual violence prevention is on sexual assault, which is typically defined as any sexual contact with a person without their consent, through coercion, or by force.

Because of inconsistent definitions in the law, especially from state to state, non-consensual sex is sometimes referred to as rape.  Some distinguish rape from sexual assault to include any non-consensual sexual acts that involve penetration.

While these distinctions are important, at least for legal purposes, they are not inclusive of other unwanted sexual acts.  So, advocates have pushed for recognition of the full range of such acts under the broad umbrella of sexual violence.  This broader category includes:

Attention to sexual violence, as a broad class of non-consensual sexual acts, also allows for attention to victims who are often overlooked, including boys and men.

The Basis Of Sexual Violence

Next, it is important to understand what sexual violence is based upon.  Sexual violence is an expression of power.  It is a tool that is used to physical, mentally, and/or emotionally control another person.  It is not an expression of sexual desire.

In understanding sexual violence this way, the myths that someone simply goes over board, gets carried away, or that their hormones got out of control are dispelled.

Beyond Individuals

By “power,” I am referring primarily to the social hierarchies, which place members of our society either at a high or low status.  Most attention has been paid to sexual violence as an expression of sexism.  In particular, women are afforded lower status and less power in society than men.  There are various things that some men do to further limit women’s status or disempower them, or even take advantage of them, including sexual violence.

So, it is important to look beyond what, on the surface, appears to be a private, individual act of sexual violence.  For example, the seemingly personal acts of acquaintance rape  and spousal rape are fundamentally political because they serve as an express of sexism.  But, sexual violence may also be based on other systems of oppression, including racism, homophobia, transphobia, classism, ageism, ableism, and fatphobia.

Sexual Violence And Oppression

But, sexual violence is not merely an expression of one or more of these systems of inequality.  It is also influenced and justified by them.  For example, sexism includes the rigid control of women’s bodies and sexualities, the sexual objectification of girls and women, and so forth.  This creates a dynamic where girls and women are vulnerable to sexual violence, and in which some men feel entitled to women’s bodies.

When women are victimized, the act is justified by stereotyping men as naturally oversexed and women as asexual, or by blaming the victim.  Alternatively, others may turn a blind eye, or even deny that it occurred.

Also, sexual violence actually reinforces these systems of oppression.  Again, using the example of sexism, women’s subordinate status to men, and constrained opportunities and well-being are partly the artifact of sexual violence.  Some reports suggest 1 in 4 women are survivors of rape or sexual assault, and, thereafter are at risk for facing various health problems.  Even more women live in fear that they may be victimized (or revictimized).

Sexual Violence As A Social Problem

Reflecting the systematic component of oppression, sexual violence is not a random occurrence.  And, all members of society do not share an equal chance of being victimized.  Women make up 90 percent of survivors of sexual violence.  In addition, there is evidence that repeat perpetrators of sexual violence account for most acts of sexual assault and rape.

Sexual violence, then, reflects a society-wide problem.  Further, some social organizations and institutions play a role, either by 1) ignoring such acts, 2) failing to support survivors and protect victims from further harm, 3) failing to punish perpetrators, 4) condoning these acts, and/or 5) facilitating sexual violence.  For example, colleges and universities have been criticized for (unintentionally) creating space for rampant sexual violence on campuses.  Recently, more and more schools have come under fire for doing too little in response to sexual violence, or even discouraging reports of victimization.

Culturally, how we talk about sexual violence (or not) contributes to the problem.  Too often, in everyday conversations, the media, pop culture, and so forth, jokes are made about rape and sexual assault, victims are blamed for their own victimization, and perpetrators are excused for actions.  In fact, many have argued that we live in a rape culture because sexual violence and the cultural norms that condone it are so pervasive.

Another facet to this is the harassment and bullying that survivors face for reporting their victimization, and their and allies’ public anti-sexual violence activism.  In other words, some victims and allies who speak out face a backlash, which aims to silence them.  A strong effort is made to keep sexual violence invisible, or at least seem like isolated, random, private acts.

Sexual Violence Prevention As A Community Responsibility

Because sexual violence is such a huge, widespread problem, no one person can stop it alone.  That is why many anti-sexual violence advocates are pushing for bystander intervention – a call for others to fight against sexual violence.  This includes:

  1. Intervening when sexual violence occurs if it is safe to do so.  For example, this can mean alerting a teacher if your friend confides in you that she is being molested by her uncle (and she agrees to have you tell the teacher).  Or, making sure your friend, who is very drunk, gets home to his own bed after a party.  Or, letting your coworker know that whistling at women on the street is a form of harassment and encourage him to stop.
  2. Supporting victims and survivors of violence.  One of the most important things to do is ensure them that you hear them and believe them.  (Unfortunately, they may be doubted by others, and face the broader victim-blaming norms in society.)  Ask them how you can help them.  And, ask them whether they wish to report their victimization (e.g., to the police).  It is okay to encourage them to pursue either support for themselves or punishment for the perpetrator, but ultimately they can choose not to and you should respect that.
  3. Challenging victim-blaming and other aspects of our rape culture.  For example, speak up when you hear rape jokes or “slut-shaming.”  Or, write to media outlets or politicians who perpetuate these problems.  Or, join an anti-sexual violence campaign or organization.  Participate in your own or the nearest college’s Take Back the Night rally and other anti-sexual violence events.
  4. Educate yourself and others.  For example, help to raise awareness about what sexual violence is, how it is a society-wide problem, and what we can all do to prevent it.  Have frank, yet age-appropriate conversations with your children, students, or other young people about consent.
  5. Break the silence about sexual violence.  This goes for allies and, if they feel safe and comfortable, survivors of sexual violence.  This means bringing up the subject when opportunities arise, or even making those opportunities happen.  My own approach is to blog and cover sexual violence in the courses I teach.  While it may be difficult in some ways, I find that men who are allies to survivors can have great impact in speaking up about sexual violence.

Indeed, we are not there yet in having a good understanding of sexual violence and why it persists.  But, hopefully, we will at least be closer by next year’s Sexual Assault Awareness Month!  And, of course, our collective efforts should not be limited to the month of April.

Additional Resources

 


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Oppression As Terrorism

7 03 2013

What image comes to mind when you hear the term “terrorist“?  I can imagine most Americans think of something like the images that a quick Google search yields:Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 7.14.25 AM

Right now, these are the kinds of images that predominate US discourse on terrorism, particularly after the terrorists attacks in NYC, DC, and PA on September 11, 2001.  Before that, this was the image of terrorism, at least in my mind:

That of domestic terrorist, Timothy McVeigh – a white supremacists.  As a nation, we are more fixated on the threat posed by those pictured in the first image — those people in that country.  Our fear of terrorism is used as justification for our xenophobic prejudice toward nations outside of the West.  Arguably, it also undergirds the vehement anti-immigration sentiment, now that “immigrant” has become synonymous with “Hispanic,” “Latino,” “Mexican,” and “illegal.”

For the oppressed members of the US — people of color, women, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and trans* (LGBT) people, religious minorities, and immigrants in particular — terrorism exists daily within our borders.  Defining terrorism simply as a systematic effort to evoke fear and terror in another group, oppressed groups experience both violence and the threat of violence (i.e., terrorism).  In addition to the daily microaggressions and discrimination, these marginalized groups are kept in “their place” through violence and terrorism.

Power And Defining Violence

Continuing to gobble up every idea in sociologist Patricia Hill Collins‘s book, On Intellectual Activism, I got the encouragement I needed to write this post, which I have been contemplating for some time.  She has a chapter, “The Ethos of Violence,” in which she argues that violence is not a given phenomenon.  Rather, it is socially constructed, wherein its meaning is taken from its historical and social context.  But, as I usually do when drawing upon a social constructionist perspective, I echo her argument that the power to define socially is not shared equally.  Rather, dominant social groups hold the power to define violence.  Whites, the middle- and upper-classes, men, heterosexuals, US-born citizens, and so on define violence.

Take the unfortunate example of the shooting in an elementary school in Connecticut.  It would be unimaginable to think anyone would dispute that this was a tragedy — yes, even one that warrants the overdue changes to gun control laws in the US.  But, as some pointed out, that kind of rare tragedy in middle-class white America garners great national attention, while everyday violence in urban, poor, and Black and Latin/o neighborhoods rarely get attention.  As Collins’s points out, these events, though more common, are not treated as noteworthy violence because they do not directly affect the privileged members of America.  In fact, such violence is treated as something to be routinely expected of the inferior classes of people who are stereotyped as natural savages.

Look at the intense political battles against protections from discrimination and violence for women, trans* people, people of color, and lesbian, gay, and bisexual people.  It is difficult to fathom how one could oppose protection from violence.  But, men, cisgender people, heterosexuals, the wealthy, and whites are shielded from violence.  As a part of their privilege, they neither witness nor experience violence enacted toward them because of their status.

Oppression As Terrorism

Collins also notes that, in addition to the violence enacted against oppressed people, they are also terrorized by the threat of such violence.

The routine nature of violence is highly significant in maintaining the social control needed for social inequalities to be seen as natural, normal, and inevitable.  The significance of violence goes much deeper than the small number of visible violent acts that actually occur in relation to the size of the American population as well as the interpretive climate needed to define it.   Rather, the threat of violence constitutes a powerful tool of social control.  For example, women who monitor what they wear, where they walk and with whom, and the time of day they appear in public places adjust their behavior in response to the fear of violence against them.  Women do not have total access to the streets because these spaces remain coded as male spaces, at least most of the time.  A particular woman need not be raped to know that some streets are always dangerous or that all streets are sometimes dangerous.  The fear of physical and sexual assault is sufficient to keep her in her place.

In the above quote, Collins points out that, while at least one-quarter of women experience actual sexual violence, they and the remaining 75 percent of women are plagued by the threat of sexual (and other forms of) violence.  That sexual violence affects women such that they live in fear and adjust their behaviors to minimize their vulnerability and this fear constitutes a form of terrorism.  And, that seemingly isolated acts serve to threaten and disempower an entire marginalized group (women), rape and sexual assault constitutes a type of hate crime.

In a forthcoming article in Journal of Homosexuality, considering the intersections among race and ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation, Doug Meyer and I found that white men and heterosexual men (the sample was too small to consider all three identities simultaneously) were the only groups wherein fewer than half (~30 percent) reported being afraid to walk alone at night within 1 mile of their own homes.  All women, regardless of race, ethnicity, and sexual orientation, Black and Latino men, and sexual minority men had comparable percentages of those who said they felt such fear (between 70-80 percent).  These patterns held even as we accounted for their prior experiences of robbery or other crimes.

Marginalized groups have real reason to live in fear.  The rates of documented acts of violence are high — just imagine what the rates would look like if most acts of violence were actually reported.  And, think about the costs of the fear that most members of marginalized groups experience.  This fear and the efforts one may take to protect oneself from violence can mean watching every aspect of your behavior, remaining vigilant and in a heightened state of arousal when walking alone, being wary of strangers of privileged groups, staying away from certain parts of town, or forgoing certain activities all together.  For myself, as my partner and I visit Richmond next week to search for a place to live, I have such concerns weighing on my mind; where will we feel safe as an interracial queer couple?

Given their privilege, whites, men, cisgender people, heterosexuals, those born in the US, and the wealthy do not have to experience nor think about violence and the fear of violence.  Beyond that, they do not have to acknowledge or validate the fear experienced by members of oppressed groups.  Further, they have the power to subvert our claims of violence, either as isolated acts that are not motivated by hate (rather than systemic violence and terrorism) or even as something victims brought on themselves.  Maybe it was the short skirt she was wearing.  Maybe it was the hoodie he was wearing.  Maybe he flirted with the guy.  Maybe she “lied” about her sex-assigned-at-birth.

Terrorism And The State

What complicates this further is that the state, which proclaims to protect all Americans, is implicated in violence against the oppressed.  Laws on the books are either selectively or weakly enforced.  Proposed laws to protect marginalized groups from violence are somehow characterized as a threat to privileged groups.  And, too often, the state itself enacts violence (e.g., police brutality, injustice in the criminal justice system, forced sterilization, interment, enslavement, raids).  Who protects us when even our protectors enact violence against us or fails to intervene when others attack us?

How quickly we developed national efforts to guard against terrorism (and protect our national borders from “illegals“) — of course, that is when dominant groups come under threat.  There has never been a Homeland Security to protect against racism, sexism, heterosexism, cissexism.  The oppressed are on their own for that.  Ironically, it seems that when the state moves to protect all Americans, the oppressed become suspects.  Anyone with brown skin can be searched and demanded for their “papers.”  Transgender and gender non-conforming people are subjected to additional screening through TSA security checks at airports.  But, c’mon — this is in the name of security for all!

Another Irony Of Oppression

Something akin to the “double bind” or “dual-edged sword” that oppressed people face — the sense that you are “damned if you do and damned if you don’t” — is a sense of irony about systems of oppression.  A good example of the “double bind” for women is the reality that they are penalized for being feminine in a masculinist society, but then punished if they are “too masculine” — something that, in overly simplistic pragmatic terms — would make sense to get ahead in life.  But, what I find more ironic is a twist on certain aspects of oppression.

In particular, I find it ironic that members of oppressed groups face everyday threats of violence, discrimination, and subtler expressions of hatred, yet are characterized as a threat to dominant society.  People of color are subject to violence by, yet are portrayed as violent to, white America.  Gay men, in particular, are frequent targets of homophobic violence and discrimination by, yet are characterized as threatening to, heterosexual men.  Women, if given the power to control anything (even their own bodies!), are seen as a threat to the livelihood of the nation.

There is an exchange in the 2007 movie version of the play, Hairspray, that sticks out in my memory:

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 10.31.36 AM

Seaweed: “And this young lady right here is Penny Pingleton.”
Penny: “I’m very pleased and scared to be here.”
Motormouth Maybelle: “Now, honey, we got more reason to be scared on your street.”

Concluding Thoughts

I suppose the take-away points of this post could be: 1) calling for better attention to collective understandings of violence and terrorism, which erase the ways in which oppressed people are attacked and terrorized daily; and 2) calling for real, sustained efforts to account for, outlaw, and remedy the vast amount of violence that routinely occurs against marginalized groups.

This should entail, as Collins points out, better understanding violence at the intersection of systems of oppression, including the heightened risk of violence among those who belong to multiple oppressed groups (especially women and LGBT people of color and poor LGBT people and women).  For, even within our own communities, we face violence.  Yet, for some reason, many members of privileged groups continue to dismiss our efforts protect ourselves from discrimination and violence — basic, fundamental rights — as “special rights.”


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Are We Failing Victims Of Intimate Partner Violence?

16 03 2012
Heather Lynn McGuire

McGuire. Source: WJLA

If a woman who has successfully filed a protective order against her abusive estranged husband, and then he abducts and murders her, have we failed yet another victim of intimate partner violence?

Separated from her husband, Philip Gilberti, who had a history of abusing her, Heather Lynn McGuire has filed a series of protective orders against her husband, fearing for her safety.  He harassed her twice this passed weekend, prompting her to call police who arrested him both times.  Both times he was released on bail, free to harass her again.  On Tuesday morning, he abducted her in his minivan, shot her in the head, and pushed her body out of the car into the intersection of Connecticut and Knowles Avenues in Kensington, Maryland.

Despite Gilberti’s record of abusing and harassing McGuire, and his long criminal record (including battery, attempted murder, stalking, etc.), he was set free on bail twice this passed weekend.  Preliminary investigation of the investigation yielded that the second judge, Hon. Barry Hamilton, released him on bond (which he did not have to pay right away), because the court computers were down, disallowing the judge to see his extensive record.  Later on Tuesday, after Gilberti murdered McGuire, police found him dead — he committed suicide.

Do Protective Orders Really Protect?

Simply defined, protective orders, also known as restraining orders, are legal injunctions designed to prevent a particular behavior, namely contact between a person who is likely harassing someone else and the person being harassed.  An important note about these orders is that they are reactive, rather than preventative; that is, a person is punished upon violating the protective order, but little is done to prevent the violation in the first place.  For Gilberti, his punishment was being released on bond, thus he was set to pay a fine.  Somehow stalking, harassing, and threatening McGuire even after being arrested once this weekend was seen as appropriately punished with another verdict of release on bond.  Sadly, this free pass left open the door for Gilberti to murder McGuire.

There are too many sad stories that leave many advocates to wonder whether protective orders are enough.  The Wikipedia entry about restraining orders suggests the following about the effectiveness of these legal strategies to protect oneself from further harassment:

Experts disagree on whether restraining orders are effective in preventing further harassment. A 2010 analysis published in the Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law reviewed 15 U.S. studies of restraining order effectiveness, and concluded that restraining orders “can serve a useful role in threat management.” However, a 2002 analysis of 32 U.S. studies found that restraining orders are violated an average of 40 percent of the time and are perceived as being “followed by worse events” almost 21 per cent of the time, and concluded that “evidence of [restraining orders'] relative efficacy is lacking,” and that they may pose some degree of risk. A large America-wide telephone survey conducted in 1998 found that, of stalking victims who obtained a restraining order, more than 68 per cent reported it being violated by their stalker. Samuel Goldberg, a Boston attorney specializing in partner abuse cases, remarks that restraining orders are awarded so casually that “they are not taken as seriously as they should be.”

A Good Victim

Law enforcement, concerned that this tragic incident sends the message that protective orders are meaningless and, as a result, victims of continued intimate partner violence are own their own to protect themselves, has implied the following:

Authorities say the last message they want battered women to take from this is that they cannot protect them. The sheriff says the data very clearly show that women who go for help are far safer that those who try to tough it out alone.

Women who seek help are likely safer than those who don’t on average.  That means that there is probably a greater percentage of women who have sought legal and advocacy assistance who remain safe when fleeing violence than those who don’t seek such help.  But, those numbers did not translate into safety for McGuire:

McGuire and her children came to the Family Justice Center several times for help. She’d taken out numerous protective orders and used the social services and counseling available. She was in shelters several times because the situation got very violent.

Some local television news coverage of the murder seemed to paint McGuire as a good victim.  That is, she did all that she should have as a victim of intimate partner violence.  She did everything right — but, why is she dead today?  Besides sending the scary message that there is little to offer to individuals who are fleeing violence, there also seems to be the unspoken criticism that victims who never report the victimization they face and seek assistance are somehow bad victims.  Such a criticism misses the many barriers that victims face in reporting and seeking help: fear of violence; fear of being cut off financially; fear of violence against one’s children or other relatives; worry that one’s story will not be believed by police, friends, and family; being forced to out oneself in the case of same-sex relationships; among other barriers.

Where Do We Go From Here?


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Categories : Crime, Criminal Justice, Domestic Violence, Gender, Injustice, Intimate Partner Violence, Law, Maryland, Media, Social Norms, Society, Violence, Violence Against Women, Women

Preventing Sexual Violence And Supporting Survivors Is A Community Responsibility

23 01 2012

The title of this post sums up the position that many have taken in efforts to prevent sexual violence (e.g., rape, sexual assault, incest, stalking, sexual harassment) and to support survivors of violence.  Such a stance goes against two problematic positions, one hostile and one supportive to survivors of violence.

  1. Hostile Victim-Blaming: Unfortunately, many people lay blame for sexual violence in the hands of victims of violence themselves.  Violent acts, such as sexual assault, are seen as incidents that are preventable simply by changing one’s behavior, interactions with others, appearance, and mentality.  First, survivors of violence, especially women, face the dilemma of providing proof that they have been victimized.  Second, if they are believed, they must provide enough evidence to convince others that such violence was not somehow the result of being sexually promiscuous, dressing in revealing clothing, giving “mixed signals” in interactions (sexual and non-sexual) with one’s attacker, drinking too much, and so forth.
  2. Supportive Victim-Blaming: Indeed, many are concerned with eliminating sexual violence for good.  But, efforts to prevent violence, like the above, center on the victims of violence themselves.  As an online op-ed at Ebony magazine points out, too much sexual violence prevention work provides potential and past victims of violence suggestions to protect themselves: don’t walk alone at night in unfamiliar places, tell a friend where you are going, watch your drinks at parties, don’t go home with strangers.  While this position differs from the above in its concern for survivors of violence, it too lays responsibility for sexual violence on the victims themselves.

Sexual Violence As A Social Problem

With estimates denoting that 17-25 percent of women and 3 percent of men are survivors of violence (experiencing sexual violence at least once in their lifetimes), it is undeniable that a substantial portion of the US population is directly or indirectly affected by violence.  The numbers alone point to a larger, systemic problem that cannot be reduced to the individual motivations and actions of every instance of sexual violence.  Yet, there are many other social factors that contribute to making sexual violence a standard component of our social world, as well.

  • Myths and stereotypes: One barrier to acknowledging and addressing sexual violence and supporting victims of violence is the inaccurate, and sometimes offensive, “information” that pervades our culture regarding gender, sex, sexuality, and violence.  Sexual violence myths include assuming all victims are women, attacked by a lone stranger (a man) in a ski mask lurking in the bushes.  But, stereotypes outside of sexual violence also contribute to a false understanding of sexual violence: men with uncontrollable sexual appetites (“they can’t help themselves“), women who have or should have little interest in sex, strong and aggressive men and weak and passive women, LGBT people as sexual aggressors, etc.
  • Exclusive focus on victims: Even in prevention advocacy and research, we place so much attention on survivors of violence — who are they, what happened to them, how many are there.  Despite extreme underreporting of sexual violence because of stereotypes, the feeling that no one will believe you, fear of retaliation by one’s attacker, and so forth, we have some sense of the demographics of survivors of violence.  But, we know little about perpetrators of sexual violence, with most information coming from reports about those who have been convicted of sexual violence.  One important fact, surprising to some, is that most perpetrators of sexual violence are not men lurking in bushes at night, nor are they otherwise innocent men who got carried away once in sexual activity; perpetrators tend to be repeat offenders (of both sexual violence and non-sexual crimes) and often know the person they attack.
  • Misplaced responsibility: Too often, potential and past victims of sexual violence are burdened with the responsibility for such violence and any efforts to prevent violence.  We, as a society, generally fail to place such responsibility on the perpetrators of sexual violence.  And, when we do, we narrowly focus on them, while ignoring others’ responsibilities to prevent sexual violence and to support survivors.  Many advocates and researchers are beginning to promote the notion of bystander intervention, which calls upon others who witness violence to intervene.  And, while we must push to never see another case where bystanders stand idly by as someone is attacked, our efforts to encourage bystander intervention also include promoting ways to change the culture that condones sexual violence: challenging gender stereotypes and gender socialization in general; teaching about sexual violence; teaching about sexual violence as expressions of sexism, racism, homophobia, classism, ageism, xenophobia, ableism, and so on.
  • Exclusive focus on gender: Another barrier to comprehensively understanding sexual violence is focusing exclusively on the role of gender: men rape women.  What is missing from this narrow analysis, besides overlooking male survivors of violence, is attention to the ways that sexual violence intersects with race and ethnicity, sexual identity, gender identity, class, body size and shape, age, nativity, and ability.  Attending to these systems of oppression does not mean only documenting demographic characteristics of the survivors and perpetrators of violence.  It also means assessing how sexual violence may operate as manifestations of these systems of power, for sexual violence itself is an expression of power over another person.  For example, in many countries, lesbian, bisexual, and queer women are raped by men in an effort to “cure” them of their sexual orientation.
  • Ignoring the role of society: Given the pervasive problem of sexual violence in society, many advocates and academics have argued for thinking about sexual violence more broadly.  As noted above, we too often lay blame on individuals, especially survivors of violence, while ignoring the roles that communities, social institutions, and culture play.  Some have pointed out that we live in a culture that normalizes sexual violence — we live in a “rape culture.”  Various institutions, like colleges, the military, and the medical system, are implicated in their failure to prevent sexual violence, support survivors of violence, and punish perpetrators of violence.  Some have argued that these institutions are structured in ways that make sexual violence invisible and potentially even promote violence.

Indeed, given the complexity and multiple layers and dimensions of the problem of sexual violence, it seems like a tall task to take on.  But, in order to protect everyone from sexual violence and to support survivors of violence, we must address every aspect of the problem.  We can no longer leave the responsibility to prevent sexual violence exclusively in the hands of potential and past victims of violence.


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Categories : Academia, Activism, Domestic Violence, Gender, Intersectionality, Intimate Partner Violence, Men, Oppression, Power, Sexual Assault, Sexual Violence, Social Norms, Stereotypes, Violence, Violence Against Women, Women

Tony Porter at TEDWomen: Deconstructing And Challenging The “Man” Box

12 12 2010

Tony Porter, the co-founder of A Call to Men: The National Association of Men and Women Committed to Ending Violence Against Women, recently spoke at TEDWomen.  There, he spoke about one issue at the root of violence against women that is too rarely discussed: the socialization of men.  What he calls the “man box” represents the ways that we socialize men to be unemotional, domineering, and to view women and non-heterosexual men as weak and inferior.  While this socialization process takes places – by families, peers, schools, religious institutions, the media — as boys develop into men, the policing of men’s genders occurs from the day they are conceived to the day they die.  Although the focus of his talk was on boys, men, and masculinity, he promotes an awareness that the processes binding men to rigid, harmful expectations are inextricably linked to the processes binding women to rigid, harmful expectations: “my liberation as a man is tied to your liberation as a woman.”  Check out the video below!


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Categories : Academia, Activism, Children, Domestic Violence, Education, Equality, Feminism, Gender, Homophobia, Intimate Partner Violence, Media, Men, Rape, Sexism, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Violence, Violence, Violence Against Women, Women

[kinsey] Men Who Engage In Domestic Violence Overestimate How Common It Is

15 06 2010

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

The tragic murder of UVA student Yeardley Love by her boyfriend brought domestic violence back into media spotlight last month.  And, a new media experiment on ABC by What Would You Do? asked whether and when people intervened when they witnessed domestic violence in public.  A new University of Washington-University of Houston joint study of men who engage in domestic violence, emotionally and physically harming their romantic partners, finds that they overestimate how common domestic violence is.  They conclude that these findings indicate the power of social norms in encouraging violent behavior.

The Study

A pair of psychology/psychiatry researchers, one from each of the universities, looked at 124 men who were enrolled in a treatment intervention study for domestic violence.  The men in their study, who had engaged in domestic violence against a partner in the last 3 months, were asked to estimate the percentage of men who had ever engaged in seven different forms of abuse:

  1. throwing something at a partner that could hurt
  2. pushing, grabbing, or shoving a partner
  3. slapping or hitting
  4. choking
  5. beating up a partner
  6. threatening a partner with a gun
  7. forcing a partner have sex when they did not want to.

The researchers compared their estimates to the number of men who actually engaged in such abusive behaviors.  For all seven of the abusive behaviors, the 124 men overestimated how much domestic violence actually occurs – sometimes twice or three times the actual rates.

But What Came First, Beliefs Or Behaviors?

One limitation of the study is its focus on men who already have a history of domestic violence.  Future research could explore the link between these beliefs about the prevalence of domestic violence and actually engaging in domestic violence, possibly through a long-term study on beliefs and behaviors of a sample of boys through adulthood.  One possibility is that men who engage in these violent behaviors attempt to justify their behavior  by attempting to encourage others (and, possibly themselves) to believe that domestic violence is common – “every man does it.”  These findings are important nonetheless, as they help us to better understand who engages in domestic violence and, to some extent, why.


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Categories : Gender, Hate Crimes, Intimate Partner Violence, Kinsey Confidential, Law, Men, Relationships, Sexism, Sexual Violence, Women

A Note On The Importance Of Discussing Sexual Violence In The Classroom

14 05 2010

For a year now, I have taught Sexual Diversity, an upper-level 70-student sociology course, at Indiana University.  (And, I am excited to announce that I will be teaching Sociology of Sexuality at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee beginning next month.)  I admit that my personal interests and experiences are sometimes reflected in what and how I teach.  For example, the latter third of the course focuses on the intersections between sexuality and other social axes (e.g., race, ethnicity, gender, age).  But, as a good instructor, I do not limit the course to topics with which I am personally familiar.  One topic that I cover in my course is sexual violence (e.g., rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment) – a topic I do not have first-hand experience with, nor that I feel obligated to cover simply for academic pursuits.

Nearly a year before I began teaching, I asked the professor for whom I was a graduate assistant whether he ever covered sexual violence in his courses (or, implicitly, why he did not currently cover them in his courses on gender).  He admitted to me that, in his early years as a professor, he devoted a lecture (or two) to sexual violence.  But, due to uncomfortableness of the classroom discussion, he scaled the lecture back to one required reading, then an optional reading, then it simply disappeared all together.  I do not fault him for his anxiety, as it is the same anxiety I experienced from the day I first listed “Sexual Violence” on my first syllabus.  The topic is uncomfortable – the darker side of sex – because it is an unfortunate guarantee that one or more of one’s students was the victim of sexual violence in the past, that one or more students may have committed sexual violence, and that most students will know someone who has been the victim or perpetrator of sexual violence.  And, though I am not sure about the other professor, I was anxious about what I would experience during the class discussion.

Last Semester: Co-Lecture

For my first class, I worried about how my students would perceive me as a “large Black man” addressing a predominantly-white female class about sexual violence.  Though I was quite excited that it would not be another case of a white woman addressing other white women, I was worried that racial and gender dynamics might prevent students from coming to me either before or after “the class.”  I co-lectured the class with a white woman colleague who has extensive training and experience in dating violence among teenagers.  I felt that the lecture went well, but I had not connected with the students that day as I had hoped – and as I was used to with other lectures.  It may have only been my own anxious perception, or, if real, that they were not used to co-lectures (one lecturer being a stranger), that I came across as uncomfortable with the topic, or, for all involved, it simply is an uncomfortable topic.

This Semester: Calling Them Out

In general, my students of last semester balked at guest lecturers, no matter whether they were talking about hooking up, homophobia in schools, queer theory, or sexual violence.  (Panelists relaying their personal experiences, on the other hand, was quite alright – a first-hand look at an issue and a break from intense note-taking.)  So, I decided to stick it out and go alone this past semester in lecturing on sexual violence.  Unlike last semester, I forgot to give a blanket statement in the beginning about being sympathetic to students who will be too uncomfortable to sit through a particular topic (but to drop if that would often be the case), given my strict attendance policy.  This time, I singled out the week on sexual violence – one day on rape and sexual assault, the other listed as “Pedophilia” but that actually covered moral panics – and let my students know they could miss either day, no questions asked, so long as they let me know in advance so we could make other arrangements.  (The final exam covered material from those days.)  Unfortunately, a couple students took me up on that offer – either right before the lecture on rape and sexual assault or, unfortunately, after because of upsetting comments made during that lecture.

In the lecture, I decided to focus on a few key things: definitions, rape myths, victim-blaming, and bystander intervention.  I began, as usual, with a few links of stories in the news, some unrelated but generally about sexuality, others directly related to sexual violence.  Then, I started with a broad definition of sexual violence, reminding them of our lecture earlier in the semester on sexualized oppression (using lynching and the sexual violence at the US prison in Abu Ghraib as examples).  From there, I defined sexual harassment, sexual assault, and rape, comparing the latter with the legal definition of rape in Indiana:

Rape:

Sec. 1. (a) Except as provided in subsection (b), a person who knowingly or intentionally has sexual intercourse with a member of the opposite sex when:
(1) the other person is compelled by force or imminent threat of force;
(2) the other person is unaware that the sexual intercourse is occurring; or
(3) the other person is so mentally disabled or deficient that consent to sexual intercourse cannot be given;

I asked my students to critique this definition of rape, to which they responded “heterosexist,” “narrowly defined to intercourse,” calling out the way in which rape is limited to heterosexual rape narrowly defined to include intercourse.  (I pointed out that everything else falls under “sexual assault,” which sometimes carries the same punishment.)  Then, bringing back their own responses to the survey I gave them earlier in the semester, we discussed blame.  In every one of a few situations given, a substantial number of the students reported that a woman, if raped, is at least partially to blame – if she was drunk, walking alone at night, wearing revealing clothing, had a reputation as a “slut,” flirted with the man who raped her, failed to clearly say “no,” or any situation at all.  I attempted to refrain from assessing their responses, simply reporting the percentage that noted that the woman in these hypothetical situations was either partially or totally responsible for her own rape.  One student asked, “wait, but what kind of sample was this?”  I was proud that she presented this critical question, and smugly responded, “the sample is this class.”  I could not accurately assess her reaction, but I was oddly pleased with her subsequent silence, as though she could not believe her classmates would think a victim of violence could be blamed for their own victimization.  Typically, if there is silence, I move forward, assuming the students are busy taking notes.  But, this time, I waited, firmly pushing for a discussion.  A few male students, who are typically vocal in the class, offered possible rationale for blame: knowing the risks that exist, one should take precautions, just like wearing a seatbelt in a car.  Some female students agreed as well.  But, though equal in numbers, a more vocal group of students, all female, protested any potential for blame for one’s own victimization.  The comment that seemed to silence the risk-highlighters was “being a woman is a risk in itself.”

Before the tension grew further, I moved onto defining victim-blaming.  The key point I emphasized was that victims of other types of crimes are typically not blamed for their own victimization.  For example, as in the case of the story of The Rape of Mr. Smith, and using two stories from Indiana University’s student news paper, the Indiana Daily Student, one on a woman who claimed to be raped and another on a woman who was robbed, I argued that the way we even talk about rape and sexual assault reflects victim-blaming or that we do not even believe sexual violence happens.  I spent a short amount of time defining rape myths, giving a few recent examples from the news that counter the idea that all rapists are creepy men lurking in the bushes at night, and that all victims of sexual violence are young, white attractive women who are raped for sexual pleasure.  And, knowing that some recent research has found bystander intervention training to be more effective than sexual violence education that treats women as potential victims and men as potential perpetrators, I concluded with charging our community with the responsibility of ending sexual violence.

Feedback

Did I come across as lecturing at my students from a soapbox?  Did some wonder, “who’s this guy talking about rape?  What does he know?”  Did I come across as disinterested, yet teaching the topic out of obligation?  Of course, I left that day worried about the impact I had, or whether I had any at all.  Only a few students came to see me after class, and none had questions or concerns that were about that day’s lecture.  I asked my teaching assistant and future teaching assistant whether the class went well and, more importantly, whether it was important to include sexual violence in future course.  They both gave positive responses.  A student in the class also affirmed the importance of teaching about sexual violence, and noted that she was pleased with the way I had taught the topic.  I wanted more feedback, whether it was good or bad, but I received more feedback (mostly solicited by me) than for any other topic.

The next class day, in the goal of reciprocity, I gave students the chance to ask anything about be me (anonymously), given that they had divulged so much in the two written assignments.  I was surprised to find that one student, relinquishing her anonymity by writing her name at the top of her paper, sought confirmation – did I believe that victims could be blamed, or was I convincingly neutral/objective?  I was satisfied that I had learned to pull myself a bit more out of the class from my first teaching experience, but I was a bit saddened that anyone would leave thinking I would endorse victim-blaming.  I started to email the student to address her concern, but decided it was best to address the whole class.  So, in my short divulge about myself – my queer sexual identity, my genderqueer gender identity, by biracial racial identity, my passion for studying sexuality, and my refusal to tell them the number of sexual partners I have had in my lifetime (though a number asked) – I ended with a disclaimer that I do not believe a victim of any sort of violence can be blamed for their own victimization.  The student who asked emailed later, admitting she was the student who asked (maybe she forgot she wrote her name?), and said that she  was relieved and quite pleased with the way I taught about sexual violence.

A Note On The Importance Of Discussing Sexual Violence In The Classroom

The topic is uncomfortable, but, I feel in my heart that I have failed as an instructor of sexual diversity and the sociology of sexuality if I teach for 15 weeks without ever directly addressing sexual violence.  While it is fun to discuss hooking up, how we define sex, the numerous sexual identities, it is also crucial to discuss the way in which sex is infused with power (queer theory much?) – how systems of oppression shape and constrain our sexualities, how oppression itself can be sexualized, how oppression is reflected in sexuality itself (e.g., the “orgasm gap” in hooking up).  My class may be the “Debbie Downer” of takes on teaching sexual diversity, but I fear that my class may be the only class where students hear an instructor and fellow students talk critically about sexual violence.  I still feel that the lecture itself can be improved, maybe even expanded beyond one day, but I feel good for and have received positive feedback on the work I have done thus far.  I hope that, in some way, I have validated victims of violence, prevented future sexual violence, and enlightened many on the importance of recognizing and ending sexual violence.


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Categories : Academia, Activism, College, Education, Gender, Hate Crimes, Heteronormativity, Higher Education, Intersectionality, Intimate Partner Violence, Men, Race, Rape, Sex, Sex Research, Sexism, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Prejudice, Sexual Violence, Sexuality, Sexuality Education, Society, Sociology, Violence, Women

Please Tell Me Restraining Orders Are More Than Pieces Of Paper

8 03 2010

Police, anti-domestic violence advocates and organizations, and our family and friends will likely tell us to obtain a protective order, a “restraining order”, when we fear potential violence or continued violence by someone in our lives – a partner or spouse, ex-partner or spouse, estranged friend, or a stranger that has begun stalking us.  This is a step I have also recommended once or twice when a friend has confided in me about violence or potential violence in their life.  But, are protective orders enough?  The short answer is no.

  • A few weeks ago, a special education teacher in Washington state was killed right outside of the school she works at by the man that had begun stalking her.  She was waiting to hear back about the status of the protective order that she had recently filed against him.
  • A woman was stabbed to death by her ex-boyfriend who had just been released on bail two days before the murder for – he had been arrested for violating the protective order she successfully filed against him after their 5-week-old baby died in his care.
  • Women have also been failed when protective orders are not issued.  In early February, a woman was denied a protective order against her ex-boyfriend who she feared could harm her and her 9-month-old her son.  One month after the judges denied her request for a protective order, her ex-boyfriend killed the 9-month-old and then committed suicide.
  • New York Governor David Paterson is catching heat for intervening in a domestic violence charge against one of his aides, David W. Johnson.  Apparently, he attempted to reconcile the two the night before Johnson’s ex-girlfriend, who he has been charged for “choking her, smashing her into a mirrored dresser and preventing her from calling for help”, was to appear in court to file for a protective order against Johnson.

When issued or denied, protective orders may not be serving the purpose for which they are designed.  So, what other solutions exist, besides the obvious restructuring of social norms regarding masculinity, femininity, gender, violence, and intimate relationships?  France is moving in the direction of tagging violent men who have a history of abusing and assaulting their wives and girlfriends.  This tag, like a house-arrest bracelet, would alert the police when a man has violated the protective order filed against him.  This is at least a step in the right direction, but we must acknowledge that protective orders are not always sought by victims of violence, nor are they always granted or upheld, and some victims of violence with these protective orders may live in places where police response is spotty and slow.  But, it is a step in the right direction nonetheless.


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Categories : Gender, Hate Crimes, Intimate Partner Violence, Law, Politics, Violence, Women