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Posts Tagged ‘Isolation’

Hey Girls and Evolved Boys!

Are you trying to wrap your head around the Cornell 7 story? Or even surprised at some of the insane (almost always male) reactions to it? So surprised and disgusted that you can’t even formulate a response?

Auntie Beth is here to help.

What to say to the “not all men” crowd and/or rapist apologists:

Asinine comment
She knew what she was getting into by going to the frat house.
Response (dealer’s choice)
• There were a whole bunch of guys there too. Did they also sign up to be raped?
• Rapes happen in homes, hotels, dressing rooms, even behind dumpsters. Women can’t go anywhere then.
• She went to see a friend. With friends like that, no one needs enemies.

Dipshit remark
Come on. She wanted it.
Response
Do you have a vagina? I do. Let me tell you: No vagina wants seven hours of sex.

Idiot on social media
She told police everything was consensual.
Response
Maybe she did want to do ketamine and have sex with her friend. Maybe she even wanted a threesome. BUT consent stops when consciousness does. She probably was not aware of everything that transpired until she saw the screenshot of the group chat much later. Also, rape is fucking traumatic, you douchebag. Processing it takes time and different forms.

(Frankly, I don’t care if she walked into that house stark naked, high as a kite, and started dancing on a pole. That doesn’t mean she’s suddenly the house fuck toy.)

Helpful reminders here: 
1. This is what consent means.
2. If given the choice, would the victim market herself as “free pussy” to the fraternity?
3. 57 dudes saw that message.
4. All those dudes took one of two paths: They either went to get some, or they ignored it. No one took a third path — that of a normal human who finds rape disgusting — and either protected her on his own or called the cops.
5. One sent her screenshots later. Yay?
6. If a dude passed out in a sorority house, he would not find himself in a similar situation. It would be more like this.

Buffoon’s statement
It’s two years later. Why didn’t she come forward then? She must be lying.
Response
She fucking did. She went to campus police. (And if you read the statement, it’s clear she doesn’t remember everything that happened. 10 drinks in three hours plus ketamine plus pot will do that.) Cornell conducted a whole Title IX investigation (albeit starting three months after the incident). They found SOMETHING, or Chi Phi would not have been banned from campus. Ithaca police, fools that they are, relied on info from Cornell police, who withheld the group chat information. That’s one of the reasons they are reopening the case.

What an ass says
Calm down. At least the case is being reopened.
Response
Yeah, because of the outrage. It’s the Safety Valve Theory. But then everything will go back to the way it was, is and always will be. (Fuck the Patriarchy!)

What the rape defender says
These young men have a promising future. Their lives shouldn’t be destroyed by this! Innocent until proven guilty.
Response
If they are smart enough to have a promising future, they are smart enough not to jeopardize it by raping someone. And what about her future? Sure, innocent until proven guilty, but let’s not kid ourselves that the guilty are ever truly punished either.

Rules for women: 
Don’t go there.
Don’t wear that.
Don’t go alone.
Don’t drink.
Don’t make eye contact.
Don’t be polite.
Don’t be rude.
Don’t accept a ride.
Don’t stay out late.
Don’t go out too early.

Rules for men:
-0-

What if we only taught men one thing: Don’t rape.

Then women wouldn’t choose the bear.

And all the evolved men out there, you have a responsibility too. Hold other men accountable. Change the culture. If you aren’t part of the solution, you are part of the problem.

Don’t be one of the seven.
Don’t be one of the 50.
Don’t even be that one who sent a text LATER.

Be the one who stops it RIGHT THEN.

Better yet: Don’t ever let it start.

You know Auntie Beth talked to her own sons immediately to make sure she had talked to them enough when they were growing up that they would know what to do.

Every woman has been catcalled, groped, harassed, stalked, assaulted, or raped — sometimes all of the above. Ask any woman if you don’t believe Auntie Beth. (Ask Auntie Beth why she knows … )

“Not all men” but always a man. How are we supposed to know which men are safe? Remember: Jane Doe went to the Chi Phi house to see her friend. Who apparently raped her.

Parting thought:
Women’s bodies are their own. Men: You want to get off? Rosy is always free.

Best wishes and warmest regards,
Auntie Beth

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Dear Aleen:

I don’t know but it’s SOMETHING, isn’t it?

I haven’t made banana bread in years, but I made some this week.

Why?

I don’t know. I guess I just had time.

Here’s a list of things I’ve made while in captivity:

1. The aforementioned banana bread. Sadly, without nuts. One of my cage mates ate all the walnuts and pecans we had and didn’t put them on the grocery list.

2. Black chickpea hummus with black garlic and preserved lemon. We are VERY FANCY in isolation.

Yes, it looks like poo. Trust me: It’s delicious.

3. Pasteles y arroz con gandules. Just like Abuela used to make.

4. Pernil. That takes four hours in the oven. Luckily, I have PLENTY of time.

5. Pork tamales. Labor intensive? Yes? Worth it? Also yes.

6. Red chili sauce for the above. You don’t like spicy things, you say? Good thing I didn’t invite you over.

7. Charro beans. Never made them, but I could have eaten the whole pot of them on my own.

8. Tapioca pudding. My mom used to make this all the time. I’ve never made it. I noticed a box of tapioca in the pantry. How did it get there? I don’t know. But Dominic is a huge fan, so I ended up making two batches.

9. Chicken Parmigiana. Again, something I’ve never made. It’s a wee bit of a pain. Would I make it again? Hell yes.

10. Gyoza. I learned from Miwa, the Gyoza Guru.

11. Many mixed drinks. Virtual happy hour begins at 5, y’all.

Chocolate chip cookies and Scotch eggs (to be consumed separately, of course) are on the agenda today.

I’m happy. Cage mates are happy. And I’m still holding steady at two points over ideal fighting weight.

So let’s have another helping of some pandemic comfort food.

Yours in culinary exploration,
Beth

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Dear Dominic,

Please go outside, even if it is just on the porch. Or open your window. You need fresh air.

Your room is hot and smells like a hamster cage.

You haven’t worn a shirt in days.

Your posture is so awful that you look like a question mark.

You eat like a wild animal — a wild animal who only eats Pop-Tarts.

What’s worse is that you want to eat like this on my new desk: the kitchen table.

If this is what you’ve become in just a couple of weeks into confinement, I shudder to think what you will look like in a couple of months.

Please don’t turn feral.

I love you,
Mama

* Thanks, Nirvana.

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