Dedicated to the brave girls of Reykjavik's Slut Walk

I just spoke to my good friend, David. This is his story: 

I woke up, a little hung over. Hang on, where am I? Oh god, last night, it’s all coming back to me now. Shit, I slept with that girl last night didn’t I? I better not tell anyone, people might start to talk about how promiscuous I’ve been lately. Regardless, gotta go meet the boys for lunch, better look sharp so they don’t think less of me. Run home, get changed. I jump on the bus, which by the way takes for ever, and have a look at the internet. Disrespectful posts and remarks on facebook about my gender. I mean, they’re funny, right? Not enough to really do anything about it, just enough to bother me, just a little bit. Walks from the bus to the restaurant and gets shouted at by a random “hey you, looking good”. The harassment doesn’t even register, that’s how frequently similar remarks occur. 

Finally, bro-time. Mark tells them how after a night of casual fun, he has had to have a 800 pound surgery to not become a prematurely parent. Obviously he didn’t want to bother the girl with those concerns, because she would completely shut him out. Still, 6 months later when he finally told us about it, he is still depressed, nervous and the experience has completely damaged sex for him. Maybe sex not so much, but the paranoia that follows is not worth the activity. Even with double protection. God, how he hated that bitch when he eventually told her about it, who was so relieved she didn’t have to do anything about it, she couldn’t wipe the gloat of her face.

Since the topic got so serious, Dylan decided to tell us that he was actually raped once. It was a while ago, and he was going to crash at this girl’s house. He fell asleep and suddenly realised she was having sex with him. He completely froze and couldn’t move and just waited for her to be finished. Then he ran out of there, spent his last money on a taxi and didn’t talk to anyone for a week. He knew there was no point reporting it, because I mean, how could he explain being at her house anyway? We all know, being at someone’s house equals permission for sex. I don’t have to spell it out to you, do I?

Frank started sharing a story how he was in a similar circumstance once. What the fuck, I thought to myself. Out of 5 bros, 3 of them have had some serious shit going on. And that’s the ones talking, who knows about the other ones? Frank had just recently become a part of the group. Turns out the reason he moved to our city was because he had been the victim in a rape trial he told us just then. His case was you know, pretty solid he thought. The girl sounded like a complete douche, exploiting his naivety. It was made blatantly clear in the trial. Still she was found not guilty. I mean, the jury didn’t want to ruin her reputation, right? I mean she is doing biochemistry at Cambridge. 

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I had to pause so many times writing this, out of how ridiculous it sounds. The reason I don’t like SciFi is because I’m always like, comm’on. Isn’t this a bit too much of a stretch? I prefer police-drama because at least then I’m like, oh yeah, that could potentially happen. But writing this feels more like a SciFi. I’m literally stretching the furthest corners of my imagination. I just cannot imagine these scenarios. At all.***

Yet, all of these are reality. Reality my girlfriends have lived through. As a part of their everyday lives, on top of everything you do on a day to day basis, this comes on top. I’m not talking about men and women being playful/flirtatious any of that. 

This post is ridiculous isn’t it? I bet some of you laughed, some of you just thought I had gone mad and others simply just didn’t get it. The truth in this is, this is the reality of today. The reality girls and women deal with everyday, and somehow is just something they have to deal with. Obviously talking about it just drives everyone crazy, because who wants to listen to those bitches whine all the time, I mean really? 

The idea was to flip a reality, which in all honesty, every single story shared here is from a friend. My friend. Not a friend of a friend, not something I read on a blog or saw on TV. I have, first hand, heard every one of those stories. My girlfriends, crying, telling me this. Someone might go, well, you’re the one deciding to live in the crazy, crimeville of a metropolitan city called London. These stories are not just my London friends. If there is one girl, reading this and cannot relate to any of the above I would be shocked, yet relieved and extremely happy. At least there is one. Why is this our reality? Oh, sorry, I’m too busy making you a freaking sandwich to have time to do anything about it. 

I am pretty certain, I’m speaking for most of us when I say: please stop sexually assaulting us. It is the “hey babe” on the streets. It is inappropriate remarks in a professional setting. And it is rape. It’s all of it. Next time you say or do any of those things imagine the person you hate constantly bothering you. 

Sorry, I know this is a pretty dark post, but I have started to (mentally) collect stories. Stories from girls. And it is horrible. And way more common than you think. Way. More. Common. 

Let’s take rape for example. I know a few girls that have done the right thing (well done girls!) and taken it to court. All the way. Some of them were children at the time. In all cases the men were found not guilty. Because there was doubt. It could have happened, but the jury wasn’t completely sure. The core of our justice system, right? 

So the message we are sending little girls, and society, is if you are a victim of a crime, report it and do everything right. Well, surely you sound convincing, but how can we be completely sure? You could be lying. We don’t want to ruin this charming men's career, would we? Is that what you want? Do you want to sacrifice this man’s career? No darling, sorry honey, you must be lying. 

So on top of being a victim, suddenly you are a lier too. Oh, and if you have the horrible misfortune of the same crime happening to you, again (let’s hope not). Well, you can forget it. You have already proven to be an unreliable witness. 

Because a child has sufficient understanding of the concept of rape to lie about this. Because adult women enjoy going through the ordeal of a rape trial just to lie about a horrible crime to ruin someone’s career. I know there are examples of this (thanks a lot to those, for making it a lot harder for the rest of us), but does that honestly justify almost 90% not guilty rate? Because 9 out of 10 girls that go through the traumatic experience of reliving every moment of the initial horrific experience must be lying. Through their teeth. Poor little rapists. Lying little girls everywhere, making their lives a little more inconvenient. 

If you are a man imagine: 

Walking down the street getting harassed. 

Your boss. 

Your coworkers. 

Your friends’ partners. 

Dinner parties. 

Any social setting. 

You are so used to being harassed a little, you completely blow it off. It’s never anything serious, right? It’s just a little harmless flirting, isn’t it? Normally it’s not really enough to make anything of it, right? You don’t want to be that girl, do you? No. Just accept the fact that all men, in all scenarios can harass you if they fancy. I mean, it’s just some harmless fun, right? We were asking for it, right? I mean why else would we be wearing that dress, right? 

Oh and sorry, did I forget to say? I’m obviously the slut. Inconsiderably placing myself in a situation where there is a man making a perverted remark. How dare I? 

***I know it happens to men too, this is just a dramatisation to make a point. Please don't kill me.