On sexual assault and language

Considering the Heather MacDonald op-ed this week that claimed a woman who does not refer to her experience of having non-consensual sex forced upon her by the proper word has not actually been raped, one might think that there would be some small vindication in this news item. And indeed, it certainly does make MacDonald look like even more of a dumbass than she already does. But instead, it just makes me profoundly sad.

A Tri-State sexual assault and domestic violence agency has gone back to its roots.

The “Rape Crisis and Abuse Center” will once again become known as “Women Helping Women.”

Executive Director Ann MacDonald said they originally changed the name to the “Rape Crisis and Abuse Center” in 2003 in order to include male victims of sexual assault.

However, Macdonald said that some did not feel comfortable with the new name.

“Our decision to go back to ‘Women Helping Women’ doesn’t mean we’re not going to say the word rape because it is a key piece of what we do in terms of crisis intervention and support services for those victims,” MacDonald said. “But it means we’ve got a name that people are saying that they feel comfortable coming too.”

This editorial has more detail:

In 2003, the social service agency Women Helping Women changed its name to Rape Crisis & Abuse Center of Hamilton County. Executive director Ann McDonald noticed a disturbing difference immediately.

Speaking to groups about the organization, McDonald would mention the center’s name and faces would freeze. In one-to-one conversations, people would seem to tense at the name. Initially, even fund-raising took a hit.

“It was the word,” McDonald says. “The word rape scares people.”

Wednesday, the center announced it is returning to the name Women Helping Women, even though it helps male victims of sexual abuse as well, welcomes male volunteers and certainly still considers supporting victims of rape one of its main missions.

Besides clouding the fact that the center also works heavily with victims of domestic violence, the old name created distance – the very thing a victims’ advocacy group can’t afford. “We need people to hear us,” McDonald says.

Critics may say the center should have maintained its name on principle, that refusing to back off the word is one way to shatter the stigma. But in this case, a challenge to semantics isn’t as important as keeping a vital service viable and alive.

I think a lot of us who do any form of anti-rape activism — even if that just means breaking the silence by talking about sexual assault — have come across this phenomenon before, probably more than once. Particularly when you talk about what rape really is. Rape scares people when they think they know what it means — a guy jumping out of the bushes, beating the shit out of a woman, penetrating her vaginally with his penis and then running away. When you explain that this scenario not describe most actual rapes, many if not most rapes do not involve physical violence beyond the rape itself, most victims know their attackers, and most rapists don’t run away, either because they can’t even comprehend that they’ve done something wrong or they’re just so (usually correctly) sure that they won’t get caught . . . then people get really uncomfortable.

I think that there is more than one reason for this. It’s possible that I’ve left something out, but here are the four main explanations, as I see them:

The first is that we’ve been taught about how this version of rape isn’t nearly as bad as the jumping out of the bushes kind — but something in our conscience tells us that indeed it is just as wrong, and possibly worse, since an intimate partner, friend or family member who rapes is performing an ultimate betrayal. The second is that we’ve been taught about how this version of rape isn’t nearly as bad, and some people are determined to defend their understanding of the world, to excuse the way that they’ve blamed rape victims, not feel like an asshole, etc. The third is that the person (usually but not always a woman) is likely to realize that by this definition, they themselves have been raped. And since it is a natural human response to avoid pain, they don’t want it to be true. The fourth is that the person (almost always, but with a few exceptions, a man) might realize that by an honest definition of rape, they themselves are rapists. And this makes them feel very angry.

I am someone who personally believes that the way we use language is highly significant and that it shapes our understanding of the world. I believe, for example, that refusing to call something “racist” when it is causes a lot of damage (and I know that not all share this view). I similarly believe that when we refer to rape as anything other than what it is, we are doing harm and contributing to a rape culture. I’m not talking about survivors who either do not realize or have not come to terms with the fact that they have been raped. I am talking about those of us who know better. Do we, in some ways, have the right to define our own experiences? Yes, and I’m not exactly going to begrudge a woman who has been forcibly penetrated orally for calling her experience “sexual assault” rather than rape. The point is that when we call sexual violence something other than sexual violence, we’re letting the rapists off the hook.

But I honestly do agree with the editorial on the argument that when playing semantics hurts women and stops them from seeking help, playing semantics is in itself dangerous. The organization did the right thing, plain and simple, and did what they had to do — which was in reality a simple cosmetic change — in order to continue to serve those who have suffered sexual or domestic violence and need help. Also, it seems that they have absolutely no plans to stop referring to rape as what it is (and if they did, that is where I would have a problem). The point is that if a woman who has been raped does not define her experience as rape, she is less likely to seek out help, and she is particularly unlikely to go to an organization that she feels only handles rape or “real” rape. We want people to understand rape and to use the word properly. The point is that none of that will ever happen if we can’t get people in the door to talk and listen in the first place.

I understand why people reacted how they did. I understand why the organization changed its name. But though I’m not even surprised, all of it is very, very discouraging. It depresses me to think that we’re still, after so many years of awareness-raising, working on the basics.

The very editorial I just expressed agreement with is in fact a perfect example of how far we have to go, because in the end it manages to miss the point by a mile.

Indeed, by speaking openly about its own difficulties with the word rape, the center is acknowledging an issue that many rape victims face – being defined by a word, limited by a word, linked to a word that no more sums up their identity than any other hardship or tragedy of life.

Like the women who come to it for support, Women Helping Women deals with the aftermath of rape and domestic abuse with strength, courage and sensitivity.

That’s the real way to take away the power of an ugly word.

The point is not and never has been to take the power away from the word “rape.” The problem is that it doesn’t have enough power in the first place, it has so little power that most people don’t even know what it means. Rape is indeed an ugly word because of what it means. Shutting our eyes to that reality is the exact opposite of a solution.

The logic is absurd but it’s hardly original, and that’s why it’s so important to address it. Of course rape does not — or should not (and this is why survivors often need help) — define your life or who you are, like The Enquirer says, more than any other hardship or tragedy. But this hasn’t stopped anyone from using the words “death,” “cancer,” “stroke,” or “divorce.” The fact is that we need words for these things. We need language to define our experiences, particularly the difficult ones.

Though it may not be true for all survivors, I’ve heard countless stories of women saying that the first time they heard their own experience described as rape, they felt a huge sense of relief. Not only did someone believe them, but they now had a word to use, something to call the horrible thing that was done to them, the language to talk about it, and a start to finding the resources it often takes to heal. I personally remember the first time that my husband used the word “abuse” to describe my previous relationship. And relief is precisely what I felt. Relief that I was understood, relief that I had a reason to be traumatized and wasn’t just weak and insane, and relief that I had the vocabulary to speak about the experience.

But I wouldn’t have gotten there without trusting my husband first. This is the reason why the organization has done the right thing. And it’s very important that we don’t get that message confused.