I can't imagine anyone being eager to have that sort of conversation with a friend. But I keep imagining a friend of mine feeling unsafe in my home because of the presence of another friend of mine who caused them harm--and that's simply not a scenario I can tolerate. I'm usually really serious about not choosing sides in breakups, but in this case I would choose a side and I would make it stick.
A lot of the conversation around the Readercon debacle helped to crystallize this for me. It's very easy to be in my own head and be all, "I would be denying this person my friendship and hospitality just because they made one mistake a long time ago! Is that fair and just and reasonable?" Because of course in my world I am the most important person. But in their world... I'm just one person. And if I turn out to be just one person who can't be friends with them anymore because they raped someone, then that is actually not a very big sanction. There are six billion other people they could be friends with, about 5.99 billion of whom (let's be honest here) really won't care that they raped someone, or at least won't care enough to let it get in the way of being friends. No matter how awesome I am, denying someone my friendship and hospitality is small potatoes. Regardless of whether you want to talk about consequences or punishment or deterrent, it ranks really low on the scales of possible consequences or punishments for raping someone, and even lower on the scales of deterrents for raping again in the future. The more I think about it, the more angry I get that all I can do to this person is deny them the pleasure of my company and the comfort of my home.
On the other hand, making a safe space for someone who's been assaulted, and pledging to them that that space will never be invaded by the person who assaulted them? That is a big deal. That is an amazing thing to do. People who talk about being raped are shamed and blamed and made to feel like crap, whether they're reporting it to the police or just telling their friends. Those same 5.99 billion people who wouldn't hesitate to befriend a rapist also wouldn't hesitate to say awful things to the rapist's target, because rape culture is pervasive and horrible. Offering any kind of help at all to someone who's been raped, even a moment of listening and support, is a glorious bounty of kindness compared to what they get from most people. Going a bit out of my way to make a little oasis of safety for them is pretty high on the mitzvah list.
So to run the cost–benefit analysis from this perspective, with all numbers on a scale from 0 to 10:
Cost to the ostracized rapist: .0001 Cost to me (sadness over the loss of a friend, the effort of the "we're no longer friends and this is why" conversation, the effort of making sure that person does not enter any spaces I have say over): .01 Benefit to me (knowing I've done the right thing, cementing a friendship): 2 Benefit to the rape survivor: 1000
The conclusion is obvious.
Because if we want to make rape a thing that happens less often, we need people who are willing to point at "less rapey" ways of raping and say, nope, sorry, that's rape, and you have got to mend your ways.
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yati
no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 07:20 am (UTC)A lot of the conversation around the Readercon debacle helped to crystallize this for me. It's very easy to be in my own head and be all, "I would be denying this person my friendship and hospitality just because they made one mistake a long time ago! Is that fair and just and reasonable?" Because of course in my world I am the most important person. But in their world... I'm just one person. And if I turn out to be just one person who can't be friends with them anymore because they raped someone, then that is actually not a very big sanction. There are six billion other people they could be friends with, about 5.99 billion of whom (let's be honest here) really won't care that they raped someone, or at least won't care enough to let it get in the way of being friends. No matter how awesome I am, denying someone my friendship and hospitality is small potatoes. Regardless of whether you want to talk about consequences or punishment or deterrent, it ranks really low on the scales of possible consequences or punishments for raping someone, and even lower on the scales of deterrents for raping again in the future. The more I think about it, the more angry I get that all I can do to this person is deny them the pleasure of my company and the comfort of my home.
On the other hand, making a safe space for someone who's been assaulted, and pledging to them that that space will never be invaded by the person who assaulted them? That is a big deal. That is an amazing thing to do. People who talk about being raped are shamed and blamed and made to feel like crap, whether they're reporting it to the police or just telling their friends. Those same 5.99 billion people who wouldn't hesitate to befriend a rapist also wouldn't hesitate to say awful things to the rapist's target, because rape culture is pervasive and horrible. Offering any kind of help at all to someone who's been raped, even a moment of listening and support, is a glorious bounty of kindness compared to what they get from most people. Going a bit out of my way to make a little oasis of safety for them is pretty high on the mitzvah list.
So to run the cost–benefit analysis from this perspective, with all numbers on a scale from 0 to 10:
Cost to the ostracized rapist: .0001
Cost to me (sadness over the loss of a friend, the effort of the "we're no longer friends and this is why" conversation, the effort of making sure that person does not enter any spaces I have say over): .01
Benefit to me (knowing I've done the right thing, cementing a friendship): 2
Benefit to the rape survivor: 1000
The conclusion is obvious.
Because if we want to make rape a thing that happens less often, we need people who are willing to point at "less rapey" ways of raping and say, nope, sorry, that's rape, and you have got to mend your ways.
Yes, very much so.