Where Do We Start?

I'm going to start this off with a little warning...

I'd like to tell my mom to skip it, but that would mean that she'd just read it more quickly, which sometimes makes me wish I'd started this blog anonymously. And I'd like to preface by saying this could be a trigger post.

It was New Year's Eve 1999. We were partying, well, like it was 1999. I was at my house and I knew everyone invited. These were people I trusted and had known for years.

We were an eclectic group, accepting of each other and our nerdiness. We weren't jocks. We didn't belong to sororities or frats. We were goths and punks, show people and waitresses, IT guys and students, government employees and store managers. We'd partied together before and by "partied" I mean drank. We didn't do drugs, we didn't drive drunk. We were just silly and had fun and sometimes drank too much.

So I got wasted. The kind of wasted you get when you're surrounded by people you trust. Shots, mixed drinks, champagne, more shots.

We threw confetti, we hugged, we kissed, we slurred, "I love you mans".

Sometime after midnight, I started feeling sick. I stumbled my way upstairs and collapsed on my bed.

I don't know how long I was passed out, but I opened my eyes to see a man who was a friend lifting up my shirt. He was fumbling in the dim glow of the Christmas lights strung around the hallway. I tried to tell him to stop, but couldn't seem to speak. I tried to lift my hands, but they lay lifeless next to me. My vodka soaked brain tried to force the words past numb lips, but I couldn't. He was a guy I'd made out with in the past. He was a friend. A good guy. And he was trying to take off my bra.

I don't know what would have happened if my friend Ed hadn't come upstairs to check on me. Ed who was sober and on leave from the Navy. Ed with his strong moral compass that caused him to grab the man by the back of his shirt and haul him off of me. Ed who yelled and hit when I wasn't able to do so. Ed who helped me to the bathroom where I threw up and finally started to regain my senses.

I was shaken, but oddly, not mad at the friend, nor was I scarred and scared. To be honest, it ended up being one of those weird stories that happen in your early 20s. A story that is shared by the vast majority of my girlfriends in some way or form.

And now, I can't help but wonder...Why?

I read Alex's post yesterday. It chilled me. She likened this sort of situation to drunk driving. It's something no one ever thinks they'd do, would never let a friend do, think that people who do are bad people and yet...

People drive drunk every day. Good people. People with families and careers and who make otherwise good decisions.

The guy at the party? He was one of the "good guys". He has a sister, a mother. He's married now to a sweet woman and they have a little girl themselves. He's, by all accounts, a good man, a good father, a good husband.

Yet he didn't see anything wrong with undressing and touching a woman who was too drunk to move.

Why?

I read a blog post by Henry Rollins.

"I think to a great degree, we humans still divide ourselves into two species, even though we are monotypic. There are males and females. We see them as different and not equal. Things get better when women get more equality. That is a bit obvious but I think it leads to better results up the road. If it’s a man’s world as they say, then men, your world is a poorly run carnage fest." 

Is that it? Is it a matter of equality? Is that the reason why victims are still painted as liars and sluts while perpetrators are hailed as promising athletes?

I'm not saying the young men involved in the Steubenville case are anything other than criminals. The details coming out of the case horrified me.

So why, then, wasn't my 24-year-old self horrified at what a friend tried to do?

She should have been.

Maybe it's as simple as what Alex wrote.

"It’s going to start with the idea that sexual assault is so commonplace each of us will have an opportunity to prevent it. Do we have the resolve to be that friend? Like taking away the keys of a drunk to not only save the driver’s life, but the lives of all those on the road, we have to protect those around us. The culture of driving drunk changed as more people stood up in basements and barrooms and demanded the keys. Each time we say, “That’s not okay,” people hear it and believe it."

It's a start.