Fearing For Sons In The #MeToo Era

As someone who has studied crime and criminal justice, I’ve worried about my children being wrongfully accused of any crime, and specifically, being wrongfully accused of a crime while unable to afford to prove it. Considering if our criminal justice system gets it wrong at a very low estimate of 1% of the time, there are still more than 20,000 innocent people incarcerated right now, it’s a fair concern. However, also as someone who has studied crime and criminal justice, I ask myself why the sudden panic specifically over males being falsely accused of particularly sexual assault. But it is rhetorical. The alarm is disingenuous and I know it. Were it genuine, collectively, we would be far more concerned about a boy sitting in jail for three years because he was accused of stealing a backpack and he could not afford justice (Kalief Browder eventually died by suicide).

Kalief Browder

Were it genuine, that would not have happened— or at the very least, the broken system that created his situation and so many like his would have been fixed across the country by now. It has not been. Because protecting males from wrongful persecution and prosecution is not really the goal of those most fearful.

It is as both a former student and a decent human being, I am far more concerned about raising a son (and a daughter) in a society that wants us to believe boys are natural born perverts with uncontrollable urges that sometimes turn them into rapists. I’m far more concerned that should someone sexually assault my son (or my daughter), he’s going to not only have to prove he was a victim, but a worthy survivor, and even then, someone in power just might tell him neither he nor what happened to him really matters because hey, people happen to like the person who hurt him.  Disbelieve, discredit, dismiss, and that’s the standard, unlike in any other crime. I’m far more concerned about raising a son (and a daughter) in a culture with such a dysfunctional response to sexual abuse that it demands he (or she) believe victims who come forward are to be so generally distrusted that the mere idea of offering them the same courtesy as any other victim of any other crime is a dire threat to our sons’ lives particularly. Well, it is a dire threat, but not to our sons. It is a dire threat to both a system designed and a society of people brainwashed to protect predators. If it wasn’t, and if they weren’t, no one would have to explain any of this.

False accusations of sexual abuse happen, but hardly often enough to warrant the level of distrust a victim automatically faces, and to be frank, I'm surprised it does not happen more often.

We can't tell high school girls sexual abuse is the result of boys just being boys, and college women that even when their rapist is caught in the act, we won't really punish him if he can swim well, and then expect anyone to understand how horrible it is to make a false accusation, can we? Apparently, we can, and I am guessing we've gotten away with the low numbers of false accusations we have because somewhere around one in four females and one in six males understand exactly how damaging sexual abuse is and especially how difficult it is to come forward with the truth. Afraid for your sons (and daughters) right now? You should be, because we have absolutely failed to protect them. We have absolutely failed to protect them all and they will continue to endure our failure as long as we remain committed to fearing the wrong things.

Real, Actual Politics Aside

Back when we were leading up to the election of Barack Obama, I thought I recognized a readiness of U.S. citizens for something entirely different, and Obama had the face and the charisma. Politics aside, as I still would have been impressed with us (somewhat) if he had been a hardcore Republican loyalist, I knew the idea of "change" was a big part of his following. I stayed up late the night of the election, and I don't mind admitting I got a little choked up when it was announced. We had done it-- not elected another democrat, but voted for change. I have a soft spot for underdogs, and... well, people who looked like me used to own people who looked like him. Go, you, man. Go, you! I was raised to believe in exactly this kind of country, and we did it. I was disappointed and frustrated with Obama sometimes; I was disgusted by the obstruction he faced. I couldn't think of a single job I would still have if I had steadfast refused to work with my boss-- and I am not talking about disagreements or whatever any person would use to completely oversimplify the point-- I'm talking about losing all decorum, turning my back and putting my fingers in my ears like some childish asshole.

Anyway, eight years later we went from decorum and diplomacy to... dumpster-diving for idiocy.

I'm still just all... Fuck... about that one.

Why You Will Absolutely See Me With A Safety Pin

I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. That is to say, I have experienced sum. shit. and it blew my mind, quite literally, in that it physically altered my brain. Anyone who has read just about anything I have ever written knows that I poke fun of it; I embrace it to the point I consider my hypervigilance one of my superpowers.

A person experiencing this symptom of PTSD will be motivated to maintain an increased awareness of their surrounding environment, sometimes even frequently scanning their settings to identify potential sources of threat. What Is the Definition of Hypervigilance?

 I let "Beastie" out to play, burn off some energy, sometimes in the form of slightly over the top humor inside my own truth. She wears me out otherwise, and she's capable of provoking laughter anyway, while on a leash, of course. It's a sort of multifaceted advantage. I do it because at one point and a few others, I knew I was going to make peace with Beastie, or Beastie was going to take me out-- one way or another. Out.

So, how does that relate to me and that safety pin? Because, yes.

-- via Snopes.com

Have Y'all Lost Your GD Minds?

"..."

Can we just... not?

Protesting in the streets is about as American as it gets. Riots, vandalism, violence, and other bullshittery sucks for everybody.

I can't even.

Between that and the ever-so-naive, "You should tolerate opinions different from your own," some of us are left shaking our heads, trying to find the words.

Um,.. yeah. See, the thing is not all opinions are tolerable. At all. If you're standing next to a man who suddenly turns to you and says, "You know, I think we should lower the age of consent to 10," then... I hope like hell you get what I am saying here!

Signed, One Embarrassed American

Really, Washington? Really?!

The Ultimate Facepalm.

My Blue Eyes Can See That Black Lives Matter

First, if you just can't take it without all the PC, move on. Sometimes, you just have to keep everybody on the same page. Everybody understands "black," "white," and "red."

I am pretty sure I am as white as European mutts come in this shade of skin color. I was born blonde -- I am still blonde, but I work at that-- whatever. I have some Dutch, German, and Irish. Rumor has it that some time way back when, someone red "jumped the fence," and made me a little pink. I doubt it; I am also pretty sure most white American families carry the same rumor, "We're actually .7689378328929856th Native American."

Yep.

Fighting the Stigma of Mental Illness: Your Language Means More Than You Think It Does

A Clue.

Personally, I don't deal with a lot of stigma around my mental illness. I will explain things the best I can to the sincere, but I just do not have the patience for the willfully ignorant-- and it is intentional dumbness since information about not only mental illness, but the myths and stigma around it is everywhere. However, I have had it long enough, and have known others with it long enough to not only know it exists, but to understand how the smallest seeds, such as everyday misuse of language, grow into the darkest, thorniest, and scariest forests. People suffer.