Thursday, June 23, 2011

God Smack

There are others, but I vividly recall three times that crimes have been committed against me.  My Canadian cousin spent Christmas with me one year.  I drove him to Vancouver to catch a flight home and returned to find mine robbed.  It was a shame to discover the holiday gifts had been stolen.  A few years later, I was sent on a business trip to Europe alone for a long weekend.  Walking down a city street, I was tackled from behind and my wallet was stolen.  Was it my fault for exploring the my hotel’s city block?  It was a shame I no longer had a credit card to pay my hotel bill.  Fast forward a few more years, my business partner, turned crook, found a way to steal nearly thirty years of my blood, sweat and tears and half a million dollars.  Although only one of these crimes was violent, in every instance I felt violated.  I didn’t ask for or deserve to be the victim of their selfish greed.      
Rape is a violent act by one person against another.  It is inexcusable behavior by the perpetrator, yet too often the victim is blamed and carries shame.  It wasn’t my fault that somebody broke into my house, stole my wallet or swindled me out of a small fortune.  I blame them and them alone.  It is a shame they are so empty of values and conscience.  They all probably go to church.  I was robbed because robbers stole from me.  Rape victims were raped because rapists raped them. 
               Slut Walk Seattle was a rally to protest rape.  The provocative title raised eyebrows and confused many.  The local media was kind enough to give it a little attention and raise awareness of the issue.  Men and women marched, some in revealing costumes, others more modestly.  Unfortunately, there was one male maggot who took the opportunity to take photos up women’s skirts.  It is sad that we judge people by what they choose to wear.  I may be attracted to someone including their attire, but I would never think to pull out my camera or anything else.  One in six women will be raped.  Some are asleep in bed, some are wearing sweatshirts and baggy jeans.  It’s not about somebody’s perception based on clothes.  The Toronto police officer who sparked this and other marches around the country apologized for his statement that women should dress less slutty.  I did not ask or deserve to be robbed and no rape victim, whatever they were wearing, asked to be assaulted.  We were both violated and should claim no blame or shame for the assaults.  I realize my abuses are far more lame than rape, but it makes me empathize with the victims of violent acts. 
The Westboro Baptist Church planned to protest the rally.  I guess they are pro-rape and according to them, I am Bible ignorant.  The six who were supposed to be there were ignored by the media after the event.  Heard an interview leading up to the day of the walk with a daughter of the pastor.  Her message was it’s a God smack to rape victims, implying they deserved what they got.  I think I’ll pass on reading their book.      


  1. Hmmmm, interesting, but wondering where you were going with it - kinda like my rant and rave a week or so ago.

  2. I guess we should just live our lives as best we know how and hope others will leave us alone. I cannot fathom crimes against others, unless one be starving and need to steal food maybe.

  3. Ann, I hope I tied a ribbon on my story for you at the end. I am far from apathetic about acts of violence.

  4. Jan, If someone came to my door hungry, I would feed them, just like you. Some might disagree, but in my eyes it is not a crime to share, care and give to others.
    I think I am discovering my voice on this blog, my acute interest in sociology, the study of human interaction.

  5. Yes, you did, Glenn.

    As a young child in WV, I remember "hobos" coming to the door asking for food. They would go from town to town by jumping onto the trains. They were basically harmless, down and out, or severe alcoholics. They would always come to the back door at just about the right time of day. Few turned them down, but some did if the smell of alcohol was present. If you think about it, in 1959, it wasn't that far away from the Great Depression. It's a phenomenon that in WV, whatever history is being made, it always hit my little hometown about five years later. A beautiful place in the middle of the universe.

  6. Another thing to write about - ha!