157 Quotes About Rape-culture

He feels excited. He feels ashamed. He wants to talk to her, but he is afraid. Maybe he imagined it all. Maybe she will call him a bad name if he asks her what happened.

Deconstructed, I find its bits and pieces everywhere around me in the architecture of my social world. I find components of its violence in the sexism of your comments. I find it in the way you touch me without asking. I find it in the way you call that girl a whore. I find its bits and pieces of violence, the building blocks of sexual assault, in the psyches and vocabularies of my boyfriend, my professors, and my friends.

If you survive, you have to prove it was that bad; or else, they think you are.Surviving is some kind of sin, like floating up off the dunking stool like a witch. You have to be permanently écorchée, heart-on-sleeve, offering up organs and body parts like a medieval female saint.

Angry women care. Angry women speak and yell and sob their truths.

How we diminished her and in turn ourselves. Turned parts of her body into heavy burdens to carry. Watching. Tittering (we no longer laughed, from then on it was tittering). Commenting. Losing our composure. Falling in love, developing obsessions, and growing resentful when our shallow affections were ignored.

I just meant this stuff with me is different. And I definitely wouldn't call it regular bullying.""So what would you call it, then?"I opened my mouth to answer.But I didn't have any words.Because all the words I could think of—bullying, teasing, flirting—seemed too simple, too small, to hold all the hurt I was feeling.

How is it that two eyes, a nose and a mouth can be positioned in such varying ways that it makes one person beautiful, and another person not?

Is this what growing into an adult woman is—having to predict and accordingly arrange for the avoidance of sexual harassment?

One day, in the very early months of the project, I read several entries in a single week from girls who had been subjected to leering and shouting from men in the street while walking home from school in their uniforms. Dismayed, I posted a question on Twitter: Surely, I asked, this couldn't be a common occurrence? By the end of the day, a deluge of hundreds of tweets had confirmed that the experience was not only common but almost ubiquitous.