Once again, proof that 99% of sex crimes are NOT about sexual desire, sexual desirability, or even lust. They're about power.
In an authoritarian world, the real definition of power - unprettied, unsoftened - is the ability to do whatever you want and get away with it. And one of the absolute proofs of power, to sociopaths, psychopaths, and pack mobs, is the ability to do anything you want to someone subordinate/inferior to you and get away with it. Especially sexual dominance. And if someone actually decides to rebel against the pecking order and resist and report?
It never happened! It wasn't like that! It was consensual! Demons must have done this! S/he's lying! What did s/he do to lure him on?
Roger Stone on Roy Cohn: "Roy was not gay. He was a man who liked having sex with men." (Source)DEFENSE! DEFENSE!
Alan Dershowitz: A john “who occasionally seeks to taste the forbidden fruit of sex for hire... Prostitutes know what they’re doing—they should be prosecuted. But you shouldn’t ruin the john’s life over that." (New Yorker)
And as for rape, well - A young boy's life shouldn't be ruined over "20 minutes of action." (Brock Turner)DISTRACTION:
Look! Squirrel! Someone else is worse! They did that! What was she wearing? What was she drinking? Why did she go there? Why didn't they report it sooner? What are they trying to get out of it by reporting it now?DISTRACTION AND DENIAL:
Of course it never happened, s/he's not my type! Who'd want to **** her [him]?And we're back to the age-old "excuse" that sexual assault is based on the desirability of the victim, rather than an exercise of power. But the truth is, rapists rape and abusers abuse the same way pigeons poop and bank robbers rob - that's what they do. There's almost nothing you can do except lock yourself up in your house and wear body armor, and even then - well, read something about the Boston Strangler. No, I'll take that back: what you can do is avoid sociopaths, psychopaths, cult leaders, war zones, riots, authoritarians, and pack mobs.
The trouble is, that's hard to do. Always has been.
My story in Liz Zelvin's Me Too Short Stories: An Anthology is "Pentecost". It's 1990, and Darla Koenig is the first female pastor in Laskin, South Dakota. Not everyone is welcoming. Nothing personal, just general principles, you know? Not sure that women should be preaching from the pulpit. Things might have to change. Everything's fine the way it is. Darla should be grateful that she's even allowed in. And no one wants to deal with an old predator, even if he is still predatory. So Darla has to, even though she knows that doing it herself could be one of the most dangerous things that she will ever do, for herself, her career, and the young girls of Laskin.
A lot went into "Pentecost." The Hutterite colonies throughout the Midwest. They are hardworking religious communes that are also deeply, profoundly, completely patriarchal and capitalist. They're also hard-drinking. Sometimes things happen. Sometimes someone talks about them.
The new church group in the South Dakota small town that - in 2015!!!! - wanted to use the community room in the apartment building Allan & I lived in, and assured the owner of said building that "In our church, women know their place." (They didn't get the room.)
An incident from my childhood. Another, on-going incident from those days, when every child in my Southern California neighborhood knew that the guy on the corner was molesting his foster children. But it was the 1960s, and we didn't dare say anything, because we knew that, as children, to even know what sexual molestation was meant that somehow we'd lost our innocence - and that meant something was wrong with us. How could we know that without being corrupted? And we would end up punished.
Darla runs headlong into this issue. When she makes a couple of suggestions to at least rein in the predator she's told, "The town might be embarrassed." When she suggests that the victims band together to pull him down, the janitor, Portia Davison, tells her:
"I don't know many women in this town who'd be willing to admit that something like that happened to them. And we don't have any proof. He's a lawyer. His dad was mayor. He hangs out with Judge Dunn and everyone on the City Commission. To them, Davisons like me are trailer trash, and you're not from around here, not any more. Nobody's going to listen. And people might get hurt. Especially the girls."
Portia was right. To speak up would mean that every ballet student for the last 20 years, but especially the ones right now, would be pointed out, whispered about, objects of pity but also of suspicion, sullied... To speak up and be doubted would ruin Darla's image, if not her reputation. Darla would be called a troublemaker and a feminazi and every other misygynistic slur, and it would be another ten years at least before there would be another woman pastor in Laskin.
And it wouldn't even matter whether they were believed or not. Even if they were, Darla would be hated for opening the can of worms, and the girls would still be held somehow at fault.
It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair.Don't worry. Darla finds a way through the dilemma. A very effective way.
Check out how she pulls it off - and many other wonderfully satisfying stories - in Me Too Short Stories: An Anthology, available on Amazon.com HERE,, at Barnes & Noble HERE.
And for those of you in NYC, there will be a launch party at the Mysterious Bookshop in the Big Apple on Tuesday September 24!