"Did I Rape Her?" - Royse, Rape, and Realization

The question itself seems stupid, doesn't it? 

"Did I Rape Her?"

Let me start out with an apology - maybe this isn't the forum, maybe this isn't even the way I should be doing it, but I'm out of ideas:

To any girl who's been sexually assaulted or raped by me, I am sorry.  Truly, deeply sorry.  This post is, in a way, my attempt to begin righting my wrongdoings.

To my knowledge, I have not sexually assaulted or raped anyone - but a recent article about "Nice Guys" and rape, and responses to that article, have gotten me thinking.  The article is by Alyssa Royse over at the Good Men Project, you'll find a story about Royse's friend, a male, getting accused of rape and coming to Royse to sort through the event and accusation.  In subsequent responses like this or this, Royse is attacked for taking the blame off of her male friend and moving it to society.  While most agreed society has a role, they continued to argue as if Royse was setting feminism and rape culture back by decades, if not more.  "The guy is a rapist," they said (I'm paraphrasing), "and he shouldn't get away with it."

Royse IS credited with never denouncing the act in question as rape - she's very clear on that point.  And I agree that this was rape.  From the small amount of information provided in the original article, we see that the two parties in question were partying, drinking, and then found themselves sleeping with (not sexing) each other.  The victim then awoke to penetration by the perpetrator (Royse's friend).  The clear response to this scenario is something akin to a Facebook response I received when I shared these articles - "A guy should know that when a girl is asleep, it's not okay to have sex with her."  I mean, ostensibly, this is true, but the incident as portrayed in Royse's article is (understandably) light on detail. 

The argument is, "Men should know not to rape."  Maybe it even goes further - "People should know..." - but I think what the responses to Royse's article failed to take into account is that maybe this guy was a "nice guy."  I hate using personal examples - one can never provide too much detail - but they've become the norm in discussions like these.  Rape is a charged issue, as it should be, but because personal examples inherently carry incredibly private details and triggering circumstances, the situations can never really be discussed in public.  I think the response that follows this particular desire-for-details is one of "Why does it need to be discussed?" because there's this sense that some agent of patriarchy (I am not in any way using this sarcastically) will attempt to use details to nitpick and victim blame.  There's validity in that thought - there's a tendency amongst males to get incredibly defensive about situations like this, and in their defensiveness, to focus too much on getting out of trouble and not enough on fixing this huge systemic problem we have.

And there's recently been an examination (this is a kind word for what I've seen taking place) of "beta male" and "nice guy" culture, and how these two mindsets or lifestyles (whatever they are) help to perpetuate patriarchy and rape culture.  Somehow, the argument goes, these men begin to feel entitled to sex - "Women only like assholes.  If they just gave me the time of day, they'd see that I'd be perfect for them," followed by, "What a bitch - she 'friendzoned' me, she's clearly dumb as hell if she can't see that I'm obviously better for her."  And a lot of guys, especially, it seems, on the internet, will identify as this beta male, nice guy figure, willing to sacrifice for a girl he's interested in, willing to treat her "like she should be treated" until, effectively, "she's mine."  I'm not going to examine nice-guy-beta-male-ing and sex-entitlement, but it's important that we get at least a snapshot of what it all might mean.

Now, here's the part many good feminists are expecting - I'm a nice guy.  Yep, that's right, I am one of those saps who self-identify as a nice guy.  I'll be there for you, I'm not trying to take advantage of you, and one girl I dated almost thought I was gay because I was so hung up on enthusiastic consent that I didn't make any moves.  But I'm also an asshole who'll joke about anything, and occasionally in conversation I'll make (admittedly) untoward jokes about sex or, sometimes, yes, even rape.  I'm certain there are a few girls here who will have been on the receiving end of an awkward comment or joke that I myself have made, or at the very least have heard me making it to another or in the presence of another female.  Again, I'm sorry - I hope you can at least understand my perspective, even if that doesn't make up for it.  You see, usually, I'm not afraid of being raped, and I'm not afraid of committing rape, and that, unfortunately, has led me to this habit of taking it more lightly than perhaps I should because of that old familiar argument - "It's just a joke."  Just so you know, this isn't me attempting to find excuses for myself or my behavior - it's an attempt at full disclosure. 

On the other hand, I've always been staunchly against inequality where I find it.  When, in college, I found myself having a hard time grasping Feminism and the need for it, I signed myself up for what would come to be one of the best and most defining experiences of my life - a course on European Feminist philosophy.  I've mentioned this event so many times I can't be sure if I'm repeating myself to death, but the idea was simply this - I was a minority in a very small class (1 male, four females), and I felt incredibly uncomfortable until the women there helped to ease me out of ignorance.  I could ask the stupid questions, they would hear my mansplaining, they didn't cast me out or call me stupid for not realizing the issues that women face every day in the most subtle of ways.  They really opened my eyes and brought me into Feminism, and I think it's pretty safe to say I consider myself to be pretty huge on the gender equality band wagon at this point, and those women are the reason.

By now you might be asking, "so what?  what the hell is this guy getting at?"  Well, let me return to Facebook for a second.  A lifelong friend of mine actually linked me to the second Response-To-Royse article I linked earlier in this post, and noted that she agreed with it (the criticism of Royse).  I then asked her how she might write Royse's article if I were the male in question.  Her response was as follows:

"I'd be pretty surprised if the male friend were you, given how much thought you've put into this topic. And I think I'd spend a lot less time talking about the culture of sex and how it brainwashed you and how you had trouble reading this girl's signals, because I give you a little more credit than that."

I imagine Royse probably felt the same way about her male friend. I replied, in part, as follows:

"[...]I might be that friend and not even know it.  I've reviewed my sexual history in my head and there are moments where I second-guess what I previously had been secure in.  I do not like the responses to the Royse article[....] I'm a 'nice guy,' right?  Well, it's possible there's a girl out there who thinks I'm a rapist.  [...] I believe men need more of a voice in this rape discussion without being labelled as 'rapists' in a way that leads to defensiveness and denial.  The case of consent is not as common sense as 'don't rape' - my experiences, both of my own sexuality and of my friends' perspectives, tell me that this issue is far more nuanced than many would like to suggest.  In the very least, we need to find a new way to approach this topic that allows the offenders' positions to be fully, and non-judgmentally, considered."

And this is the reason for me opening with an apology.  As I consider my sexual history, the nature of the various interactions I've had, and stories that I've encountered regarding this "gray area" of rape, I realized that it's entirely possible, perhaps even likely, that a girl I've been with in one way or another has felt raped by me.  And that makes me a rapist, doesn't it?  Again, I don't mean this last line sarcastically or ironically - I mean it, period.  When I consider the thought that I've put into this topic, and that I have what I believe to be a very sincere desire to improve this world, I find myself feeling a little bit betrayed - I feel as though sex has become a china shop, and somehow, unwillingly, I've become a bull.  I don't mean to suggest that my woes are worse than women's, or that there are justifications for rape.  I do want a solution, though, to a problem I see in our conversations on the subject - I think that current discourse on the topic needs to differentiate between those men who know that what they're doing is wrong, and those who don't.  It's not as simple as "teach men not to rape," anymore.  If we want to stop rape, we need to make sure we really understand the rapists, and these guys aren't strangers, they're men we trust and potentially care about - not looming perverts in back alleys with a taste for malevolence and control.  If we want to stop rape, we need to, in part, make sure that a man doesn't ever feel the need to ask, "Did I rape her?"  I don't have any of the answers, of course, but I do believe we won't get to that point if, as with the responses to Royse's articles, we're hyper-focused on the blame game.

So yeah... I honestly don't know if I'm a rapist.  I could be, and never know, while some woman out there is living through the trauma of an event that I might've even forgotten about because I just didn't understand what was happening at the time.  Isn't that fucking terrible?  Horrifying?  Perhaps words aren't enough.  But let me state this clearly:  I should NOT be wondering whether or not I've raped someone.  I'm a "nice guy," thoughtful, at least a little intelligent.  I'm not malicious - I don't feel like a rapist.  And yet here I am, wondering away....

Whose fault is that?








Either way, for what it's worth, I am sorry.