Dues
My lowest point as an activist, well, I should have seen it coming.
Sophomore year of college, I was still the dumbass yokel I was when I entered college. Then, my best friend called me from her school to tell me she had been raped the year prior as a virgin. It struck me deeply, and the next day I found the office for SCAREd (Students Concerned About Rape Education) and joined up.
It was the first time I had ever been welcomed with exuberance in my life. This was an organization that, due to some very unfortunate events on the Syracuse campus, had gained a national reputation, appearing on Geraldo and the front page of The Village Voice the year before I joined (I had no idea, of course), but which was still struggling to gain real traction on campus. And, here I was a clean-cut white boy that didn’t even look gay asking to join up. Ya gotta just step back and understand the significance.
I threw myself entirely in. Within weeks, I was presenting sexual assault education programs in dorms and at frats. And, it made sense to me. I believed in what I was saying. I advocated the same message amongst my friends and acquaintances, became known within my circles for what I was doing.
The following year, I was elected SCAREd’s Media Spokesperson, meaning all media interviews were either conducted by me or our president. And they were often contentious. Early 90’s, media was not very willing to hear our message, but were very willing to put us in front of cameras and microphones.
So, mid-year, I agree to a phone interview with a woman that writes for a national insurance company newsletter, and mid-interview she says “Well, don’t you think we can chalk some of this up to ‘boys will be boys’?” I said, no, hell no, we have an obligation to teach boys to act like men, and real men don’t rape. I was happy with the answer, but stewing at the question.
Shortly after the interview was over, a group of SCAREd women walked into the office, and when one of them asked about the interview I shared that question. She followed up by asking me if I thought the interviewer was serious or just trying to play devil’s advocate. I responded, “No, I think she was just a dumb bitch.”
Reading that last sentence, if you know what a group of college-age feminists are like, you understand how colossally stupid that response was. I spent the next 15 minutes having my ass group-chewed.
But, here’s the thing. Though I took it, and understood my mistake, I never thought it was fair. Here I was, a barely-adequate male on a testosterone campus spending the majority of my time working on what most people thought a feminist cause, constantly questioned in my intentions by both men and women, slammed for a moment of anger that still seems, 15+ years later, perfectly valid. Ass-chewed because I dared call a bitch a "bitch."
It wouldn’t hold much significance, being that I went on to lead that same organization the following year, stood in front of numerous official committees, brought the university chancellor, personally, practically holding his hand, over to our side, not to mention being the first person to break into the athletic department and be allowed to present programming to SU’s beloved athletes, except that I find I still piss people off the same way I did that day.
But, here’s the thing. Rarely have the people I piss off with an offhand statement stood on the front lines. Rarely have they risked anything for their opinions as I have. Stand on the front lines and you have the right to say what you want (though sometimes what you say understandably demands an explanation you have every right to be given the chance to offer up). And, I know I stood there, and I’m going to keep talking the same way.
And, this being the whole reason I started writing in the first place, if you come at me, after saying some of the shit I do, and don’t offer me that chance, don’t get that I’ve risked more than you do with your locally-defined RIGHT way to think, I’m NEVER going to listen to you. Wrong as that is, I just won’t.
The message being – fight, and you can say what you want, you have proven your responsibility to your words. Otherwise, shut the fuck up, until you are willing to lay it on the line. And NEVER, EVER try to take a moral high ground you haven’t earned (and remember that the way you are born isn’t earned, it just is).
Oh yeah, and this – engage first, judge later. I’ve got a real knee-jerk reaction to knee-jerk reactions.
Sophomore year of college, I was still the dumbass yokel I was when I entered college. Then, my best friend called me from her school to tell me she had been raped the year prior as a virgin. It struck me deeply, and the next day I found the office for SCAREd (Students Concerned About Rape Education) and joined up.
It was the first time I had ever been welcomed with exuberance in my life. This was an organization that, due to some very unfortunate events on the Syracuse campus, had gained a national reputation, appearing on Geraldo and the front page of The Village Voice the year before I joined (I had no idea, of course), but which was still struggling to gain real traction on campus. And, here I was a clean-cut white boy that didn’t even look gay asking to join up. Ya gotta just step back and understand the significance.
I threw myself entirely in. Within weeks, I was presenting sexual assault education programs in dorms and at frats. And, it made sense to me. I believed in what I was saying. I advocated the same message amongst my friends and acquaintances, became known within my circles for what I was doing.
The following year, I was elected SCAREd’s Media Spokesperson, meaning all media interviews were either conducted by me or our president. And they were often contentious. Early 90’s, media was not very willing to hear our message, but were very willing to put us in front of cameras and microphones.
So, mid-year, I agree to a phone interview with a woman that writes for a national insurance company newsletter, and mid-interview she says “Well, don’t you think we can chalk some of this up to ‘boys will be boys’?” I said, no, hell no, we have an obligation to teach boys to act like men, and real men don’t rape. I was happy with the answer, but stewing at the question.
Shortly after the interview was over, a group of SCAREd women walked into the office, and when one of them asked about the interview I shared that question. She followed up by asking me if I thought the interviewer was serious or just trying to play devil’s advocate. I responded, “No, I think she was just a dumb bitch.”
Reading that last sentence, if you know what a group of college-age feminists are like, you understand how colossally stupid that response was. I spent the next 15 minutes having my ass group-chewed.
But, here’s the thing. Though I took it, and understood my mistake, I never thought it was fair. Here I was, a barely-adequate male on a testosterone campus spending the majority of my time working on what most people thought a feminist cause, constantly questioned in my intentions by both men and women, slammed for a moment of anger that still seems, 15+ years later, perfectly valid. Ass-chewed because I dared call a bitch a "bitch."
It wouldn’t hold much significance, being that I went on to lead that same organization the following year, stood in front of numerous official committees, brought the university chancellor, personally, practically holding his hand, over to our side, not to mention being the first person to break into the athletic department and be allowed to present programming to SU’s beloved athletes, except that I find I still piss people off the same way I did that day.
But, here’s the thing. Rarely have the people I piss off with an offhand statement stood on the front lines. Rarely have they risked anything for their opinions as I have. Stand on the front lines and you have the right to say what you want (though sometimes what you say understandably demands an explanation you have every right to be given the chance to offer up). And, I know I stood there, and I’m going to keep talking the same way.
And, this being the whole reason I started writing in the first place, if you come at me, after saying some of the shit I do, and don’t offer me that chance, don’t get that I’ve risked more than you do with your locally-defined RIGHT way to think, I’m NEVER going to listen to you. Wrong as that is, I just won’t.
The message being – fight, and you can say what you want, you have proven your responsibility to your words. Otherwise, shut the fuck up, until you are willing to lay it on the line. And NEVER, EVER try to take a moral high ground you haven’t earned (and remember that the way you are born isn’t earned, it just is).
Oh yeah, and this – engage first, judge later. I’ve got a real knee-jerk reaction to knee-jerk reactions.
posted by JJisafool at 9:54 PM
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