NS September 29th, 2009

I’m still steaming about the whole Roman Polanski fiasco. It’s all I can think about and I keep devouring more and more column inches in my quest to find someone (other than a handful of progressive bloggers) who isn’t defending or in some way minimising the crimes committed by this sad excuse for a man. The defend-a-thon is detailed here and here, and that’s just what’s come out in the last 24-48 hours. If you’re hungover and are in that ‘if only I could get my head down the toilet, stop dry heaving and actually puke, I might feel better’ stage, just go and read the links in both of those posts — they will set your stomach acids churning and you’ll be wretching all over the place in no time.

Everywhere I turn, I am reading and hearing and seeing people who would normally want to lock up a paedophile like Polanski and throw away the key suddenly try to justify why, in this case, professional accomplishments and past personal tragedies somehow make up for the heinous crime of child rape. It’s absolutely disgusting and is so utterly bonkers that I keep thinking that any moment now I’m going to wake up from this horrific dream, or suddenly remember it’s April Fool’s Day.

The saddest thing about all of this is that women and girls who have been raped — who are being raped right now, or will be raped tomorrow (as they are every minute of every day) — are watching. They are watching how the world reacts to Roman Polanski in what should be a long-awaited conclusion of justice but is, once again, just a mockery of it. When they hear people say such exceedingly stupid, pompous and insensitive things like:

“The real tragedy is that he will always, till his death, be snubbed and stalked and confronted by people who think the price he has already paid isn’t enough” (Patrick Goldstein in the Los Angeles Times)

what they are taking away from that is: don’t kid yourself, sweetheart, no one is going to believe you. And even if they do, no one is going to care, particularly if your rapist is handsome or popular or successful or ‘important’. Because in the face of the artistic or social potential of a man, rape is just a sad inevitably that we must overlook.

Goldstein is right about one thing…it will never be enough, no. Because being snubbed by your peers (which I don’t think Polanski has been at all — look at the long list of Hollywood A-listers willing to defend him) is not a tragedy. Nowhere else, that is, besides fucking up-its-own-ass, whacked-out, self-important Hollywood. I am absolutely sickened at the level of support being shown to this man and saddened at the total disregard for rape survivors and the due process of the law. If Polanski doesn’t end up serving his sentence I (and countless other girls and women) will have comletely lost any last, teeny-tiny shred of hope that rape would ever be taken seriously in the eyes of the law, and our society.

And that, you privileged prick Goldstein, is a very real tragedy.

• Activism , In The News , Rape
• Comments(14)

NS September 28th, 2009

You’ve probably heard that director Roman Polanski has been arrested in Switzerland and will likely be extradited back to the United States to face law enforcement officials who want him for fleeing the country in 1977. What was he fleeing from? Rape charges. Rape charges that he admitted and plead guilty to.  Who did he rape? A 13-year-old girl. How did he rape her? By telling her he wanted to put her in French Vogue, inviting her to a private residence for a “photo shoot”, drugging her with champagne and quaaludes and then performing numerous sex acts on her, to each of which his victim said ‘No.’  Even if she hadn’t said a word or put up any resistance, he would still be guilty of rape seeing as she was a child.

Polanski used his influence to get the girl alone and put her in a position where she was eager to please and be unlikely to question what was going on. What 13-year-old girl wouldn’t be thrilled to be hand-picked by a famous director to appear in a chic and world-famous magazine? The fact that he fed her drugs and alcohol to make her more compliant and maybe also to cover his tracks tells us a lot. Maybe he thought that later, if he was accused of anything indecent, he could just claim they were both high on drugs and booze and testify that she threw herself at him and he didn’t know she was only 13, honest-to-God, Judge; haven’t you seen how much makeup she wears and how developed her body is? C’mon, give a red-blooded guy a break! he’d say.

Think that’s sounds like a pathetic, bullshit excuse that no one would be stupid enough to use? Well, it works all the time for other men so it’s not farfetched in the slightest, actually. And even now, Polanski’s case has people wondering out loud if the ‘sex’ was ‘consentual’ or not, or if it even matters after all this time and because he’s a famous movie director who has had some tough knocks in life.

*Wait, let me get my hankie out*

Boo-fuckin-HOO! I don’t care if you find a way to solve world hunger or discover the cure for AIDS, if you rape a 13-year-old girl you must be punished for that, no matter how long ago it was.

Some bright sparks are bringing up the statute of limitations in California, as if the victim was only just reporting the rape and poor Polanski was being hunted down and tried for something he may not have done. The guy pleaded guilty, was convicted, and then fled the country because (and I quote, in a whiny, self-important voice) “The judge will give me 100 years.” So yeah, you can take your ‘statute of limitations’ crap and mosy on down to Stupid Town, y’all.

And, as usual, Hollywood is coming to the rescue of one of its own, questioning why Polanski is being arrested after all this time and even saying it’s a waste of taxpayer money.

But with so many far more important cases sitting idle because of budget cuts and lack of manpower, it is hard to fathom why the D.A.’s office is suddenly spending time and money trying to re-energize an ancient sex case when there are so many more nasty characters so much closer to home who need to feel the strong arm of the law

If you need more evidence that some people just can’t wrap their heads around ‘sex’ with a child always being rape, just watch this clip from The View, in which the following exchange takes place:

Whoopi Goldberg (after explaining the basic details of the case): …so I’m asking you guys, should he go to prison?

Joy Behar: I believe that no matter how old you are or how long ago the crime was committed, that you should be punished for it. I mean, he’s a great director. The man suffered the Holocaust, he lost his family, he escaped from the Germans, the Nazis. He lost his wife, Sharon Tate, in the horrible Manson murders. People know about that, he had a terrible time. And he’s a wonderful director. But he did rape a 13-year-old child and…

Whoopi: Wait, wait, wait. Wait, you guys. The language that we use here is very important because that is not the allegation. That is not the allegation. I’m talking legal.

Joy: Allegedly, he plied her with a quaalude and alcohol. And he also pleaded guilty.

Whoopi: Yes.

Joy:  So we can assume that he did…

Whoopi: That’s a rape?

Joy: Well, it’s not consentual sex when she’s 13 and he was 40.

Whoopi: Well…

Melissa Gilbert, guest panelist: The grey area is when mama’s in the building [referring to the victim's mother, who apparently is alleged by some to have been around when the rape happened].

Whoopi: Yeah, and mama’s sort of set it up…

Melissa: …taking you to this house…

Sherri Shepherd: Okay, but she’s not being charged, we’re looking at Roman Polanski.

Whoopi: No, but you have to, you can’t, you can’t, if you’re going to look at the suit you have to look at the whole thing.

Melissa: I agree.

Whoopi: This is why some of the legal people say, you know, some of the sentence was a little excessive. Having gotten all the information, some thing should have changed. So I think all Melissa and I are saying is just be aware what he is charged with and what they are doing.

Sherri: I think that as a grown person, take responsibility for the fact that you knew…

Melissa: He did…

Sherri: Take responsibility for the fact that you fled the country as well.

Melissa: I think he’s trying to atone. I think the punishment at this point may be excessive. I don’t know, that’s just my opinion.

Sherri: Why?

Melissa: Well…

Sherri: We tried Nazi war criminals from a long time ago.

Melissa: I think the crime itself is horrible, I just think the circumstances of it are so grey and so mushy and so messed up, and now you have this woman who actually is the victim who, for whatever reason, is saying let’s just back away, walk away from it, he’s…she’s over it.

Sherri: Well, a 45-year-old woman is thinking a lot differently than she was at 13. It doesn’t change the fact that at 13 years old, this woman was drugged and anally penetrated, orally penetrated. So yes, she may have forgiven him and she may have moved on, but still the crime remains. Allegedly…

Whoopi: I am not saying ‘allegedly’…

Star: If it was your daughter, even 10, 12 years later…

Melissa: Does he have daughters?

Sherri: Roman Polanski?

Whoopi: Yes, he does.

Melissa: Well, then, I think he’s going to be very mindful and watchful and I think he should be…

Sherri:  So, what, that should be enough punishment?

Melissa: No, not that he has daughters…

Whoopi: Let’s be realistic here. He went to jail and plead guilty to having sex with this young lady. So it’s not like he ‘allegedly’ had sex, he DID have sex with her. What I’m saying is he did not “rape” her because she was aware and, apparently, the family were aware.

Sherri: Was it consentual? I mean, what is rape? What’s the definition of rape?

Whoopi: I don’t know if it was consentual but he was not…

Joy: Wait a second.

Sherri: When you have to give somebody drugs, I don’t know.

Whoopi: What I’m saying is he was not charged with rape, that’s all I’m trying to say.

Sherri: Even if you’re 13-years-old? And…

Whoopi: Wait. Wait! We have to get it correct. If we’re gonna bitch about what he did we have to get it right about what he did.

Melissa: What he did was despicable and disgusting, when you’re that age and have sex with a 13-year-old.

Joy: When a child is 13 years old, it’s called statutory rape. It’s not called anything BUT rape.

Whoopi: He was NOT charged. He was not charged…I know it wasn’t “rape” rape.

Sherri: Statutory rape?

Melissa: Child molest, maybe? I’m not sure.

Whoopi: Maybe child molest, but I don’t believe it was “Rape” rape.

Ah, that clears it up, then. It wasn’t “Rape” rape because the sex may have been consentual (even though she was only 13 so consent to sex with a 44-year-old man is impossible) and because her family may have known what was going on (which makes it okay, she was theirs to pimp out). Got it, good to know.

Remember folks, it’s only rape if you are grabbed from a moving vehicle or from behind in a dark and secluded area and if you are tied up, drugged, and/or beaten to within an inch of your life while struggling, screaming and scratching every second until your attacker either lets you go or kills you! Any other scenario will be torn down and picked apart by people who are too blind to see that rape is about power, not sex, and that children cannot ever have ‘consentual’ sex with adults.

It doesn’t matter if a girl walks up to a man completely naked with two cans of whipped cream, some bondage chains and a sack full of condoms, she is not consenting. If you believe otherwise you are either delusional, looking for an excuse to abuse her, or she is emotionally damaged and in need of therapy, not a quick fuck. Either way, it is rape, not sex. Yep, “Rape” rape.

There is no other kind.

• Activism , In The News
• Comments(23)

NS September 25th, 2009

The front page of the Guardian caught my attention today: “Revealed: the hidden army in UK prisons.” In reading the article, a few passages stood out.

The number of former servicemen in prison or on probation or parole is now more than double the total British deployment in Afghanistan, according to a new survey. An estimated 20,000 veterans are in the criminal justice system, with 8,500 behind bars, almost one in 10 of the prison population.

I hadn’t heard those figures before and was somewhat taken aback by how high they were. I can’t say I was all that shocked, though. People who volunteer for jobs that rely heavily on violence, weapons and control are pretty obviously going to be more likely to have issues with violence, weapons and control, not to mention alcohol and drug abuse, mental illness and depression. The study confirms this.

The snapshot survey of 90 probation case histories of convicted veterans shows a majority with chronic alcohol or drug problems, and nearly half suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder or depression as a result of their wartime experiences on active service.

…The study provides the strongest evidence yet of a direct link between the mental health of those returning from combat zones, chronic alcohol and drug abuse and domestic violence.

Now, I could be cynical and surmise that the armed forces simply attract people more prone to violence and mental illness, but even though I think that’s true in a very small percentage of cases, I know that most people entering the service in Britain do so out of a sense of duty to their country or at least because it may offer them a good career path, one they might not have access to otherwise. Essentially (the theory goes), they generally start off innocently, without malicious intent, and are only corrupted by the violence and mayhem they witness over a period of time.

According to military experts, psychologists specialising in post-traumatic stress syndrome and others, if, as a result of their environment and training, soldiers suffer such ills and traumas as to make them criminals and addicts, they should receive help and counseling from the State.

Taking all of this into consideration, I can’t help but draw parallels between this “hidden army,” these deeply wounded soldiers, and the entire, forgotten class of young people, mainly men, being locked away for very similar reasons and offenses. If veterans make up 10% of the prison population, who is making up the other 90%? It isn’t the unscrupulous City traders and high-flying fraudsters, that is certain.

The vast majority of the prison population is made up of poor men and boys who have also suffered under this truism: violence begets violence. An entire ‘underclass’ of people in this country live with, grow up around, see, experience, live and breathe unimaginable violence every single day. From the moment they are born until the steel door slams behind them, be it institution gate or coffin lid, the scourges of society befall them — drink, drugs, poverty, mental illness, separation from family, violence, rape, and being witness to death and destruction.

Make no mistake, they are no less foot soldiers in a war than those lying in a desert bunkhole in Afghanistan right now, military-issued rifles clutched to their chests as they wait out the attack. The only difference between them is that British soldiers are given weapons with which to defend themselves and have the support and concern of the public. Men and boys who grow up experiencing horrific abuse, who are drafted into gangs before they can even read, who are forced to do whatever it takes to survive in their hostile worlds…they were in combat situations, too.

Poverty is a battle for which its unwilling participants are given no armour, and no choice. Those who joined the armed forces at least have an idea of what they might be getting into. That doesn’t mean I have less sympathy for them, but as a pacifist who isn’t easily swayed by patriotism and duty as reasons to fight and who knows that we couldn’t have wars without willing soldiers, no matter how ‘noble’ the cause, it does give me pause for thought.

Poor children at the fringes of society had no such say in the matter. And yet, we look down on them in disgust, cheer when one of them is locked away in a prison cell and shout “Throw away the key!” We’d grind our middle-class heels on their crime-riddled hearts if given half a chance. The baying crowds have always needed witches to round up and burn, after all.

We’ll continue as we are, ignoring the problem and sticking our heads in the sand until The Problem starts breaking into our homes and beating strangers in parks and leaving empty beer cans on our lawn. We’ll beat our chests about it and call Those People every name in the book, wishing they’d just go away or learn to be more like us. And then we’ll slap yellow ribbons on our windows and cars — “Support the troops!” they demand — oblivious to the ex-Marine down the street getting drunk and beating his wife in a terror-induced rage.

All of this just highlights the ridiculousness of using violence and war to end… violence and war. Neither are viable ways to achieve peaceful ends. A culture that encourages both will eventually destroy itself.

• Activism , I Bitch Therefore I Am , In The News
• Comments(3)

NS September 24th, 2009

I’m not one for dwelling on what might have been, but I do have a few regrets. They’re mostly small things that probably don’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things but I still wonder sometimes. What if…?

• Not doing better in high school – I was certainly intelligent and capable enough to have been in the top 10% of my class so why did I end up only in the top 25% and miss all of the scholarships, grants, etc..? Because I couldn’t be bothered to do the homework and ass-kissing that is required. I’ve always done splendidly at the big tests but couldn’t face the daily grind of homework sheets, quizzes and so on, dragging my overall grade down in the process. My teachers often wrote in my report cards: “Not living up to her full potential.” They knew what I was too arrogant and young to realize

• Never living on my own before getting married – I know that some people hate living on their own and I don’t know for certain how I would like it since I’ve never done it but I’d like to have done it before I settled down with one man to have children. I never experienced that ‘single career gal in the city’ lifestyle, not even for a little while, and I wish I had

• Spending so much money on our wedding — It wasn’t a ridiculous sum of money, just about at the national average at the time, but it was still more than we should’ve spent. I admit, I got a bit carried away with the idea of having a big party. The ‘girly/romantic’ bits didn’t interest me that much, but the band, and the food and the swanky venue? I had so much fun planning that! A little too much, I guess. I wish now that we’d have scaled things way back and used some of the money my parents gave us to pay off debts and student loans, or put towards a down payment for a house. I don’t regret the actual wedding (not at all, it was a blast!) but if I could go back in time I’d cut my budget in half and slap myself silly for spending so much money on silly things like centerpieces and flowers

• Changing my name — I actually didn’t take The Noble Husband’s name upon marrying him and was perfectly happy with that decision. However, six years later, when I found myself heavily pregnant with our first child and fretting about how complicated it would be to have a different name to my husband and child, I went ahead and did it. Besides the social and bureaucratic reasons, it also just felt a little unfair, emotionally, to do all the hard work of carrying and bearing a child and then feel detached from it on every little piece of paper I fill out and in every social situation for the rest of our lives. TNH had no problem with me not changing my name but he didn’t want to combine his name with mine or create a new one. Growing up, he had a double-barreled name, which he hated, and had changed his name to only one of them. So going back to two wasn’t an option for him. Instead of coming up with another solution or standing my ground, I just changed my name. I really like my husband’s surname and I don’t feel like I became his property or lost my old identity somehow but I do think it’s unfair that I won’t share my original surname with my children simply because I am their mother and my name is not deemed as important

• Not establishing healthier eating and exercise habits — I had the opportunity to decide how I was going to manage my diet and physical activity upon leaving home and went the lazy route. Now I find it a real struggle to get out of a lifetime of bad habits. I’m slowly trying to rebuild them but it feels like a constant battle. And it’s not about appearance or thinness or anything like that. It’s just about giving my body what it needs to feel good and knowing that I’m letting it (and ultimately, my health) down

• Not learning a second language  — It gets harder as you get older and I just don’t have that natural knack for languages, like some do. I get embarrassed too easily when I get things wrong, especially things that I think will make me look ‘uncultured’ or ‘unworldly’ and so I’m afraid to open my mouth around native speakers or those who are fluent. I took three years of Spanish in college, I should be fairly decent at speaking and understanding it but I’m pretty crap, really. I can read it fairly well and write it okay but my person-to-person comprehension and conversational skills are poor. I keep vowing to dive back into it but I know that, realistically, it won’t happen until both kids are at school. It requires dedication and time that I just don’t have right now. Hopefully someday…

Geez, reading back over those you’d think I was regretting getting married! I assure you (and you, TNH!) that that’s not the case. The fact is, though, that I got married very young (20) and so there are certain aspects of life that I simply didn’t experience. On the other hand, I don’t feel that I “missed out” because TNH and I were married for several years before we began having children and we had a rollicking good time during those years. That’s one thing I’ve had zero regrets about — my relationship with him. I know I can’t see into the future but I’m fairly certain he and I are going to last.

What about you, what are your biggest regrets?

• Banal Breakdown , That's Life , Til Death Do Us Part
• Comments(19)

NS September 22nd, 2009

The Noble Child started at her pre-school last Friday and is now going four mornings a week. The other morning, Thursday, she goes to her grandma’s house for the day. That means that every day of the week we have to be out of the house by 9am sharp. It also means she’s out of my house every morning. This has turned out to be a very good thing. Not just for her, but for me.

Before she started, I often shuddered at the thought of having to go from lazing around all morning to performing the military operation of getting children and self ready and out the door on time for school. I thought of myself as more free-spirited, less regimented than that. School uniforms on, bags packed, breakfast made and eaten, showered, dressed, hair combed and tied back, appropriate shoes and jackets located, snacks/lunches packed, pushchair and scooter ready to go (or kids in carseats, if driving), all before 9am?! You’re mad, I would’ve said. M-A-D. There is NO way this will happen, or at least it won’t happen without tears, tantrums and frantic last-minute dashes back inside the house for forgotten items, half-eaten toast and skimming of crumpled newsletters outlining what the children should bring with them or do on that particular day as I smack a palm to my forehead in panic.

I will crumble under the pressure, under the authoritarianism of it all, I thought. I’m not one of those super-efficient working mothers who does this every day without blinking, I’m a lazy, coddled SAHM who doesn’t HAVE to be anywhere, really. I won’t be able to hack it. But it turns out, I was wrong. Really wrong.

Not ony have I managed to get us all ready and there with time to spare, but I’ve been so much more productive in all other areas of my life as well. Being showered and fed and out the door seems to be curing what I thought was my laziness and gives me some kind of strange energy I had forgotten I ever possessed. I’ve been ticking things off of my to-do list, engaging more fully and happily with the children, getting more housework done, cooking healthier meals, spending less time on the internet and more time reading and working on my book, and I even applied for a full-time freelance job. I’m in the middle of this starburst of creativity and patience and, dare I say, contentment.

So this is what it must feel like to be one of those happy SAHMs, I realise, not the miserable, snarling, impatient ones  who just wants FIVE MINUTES TO HER FREAKIN’ SELF isthatsomuchtoaskhmm? before her goddamn head explodes and the wine is poured prompty at five because it’s the only thing keeping her hanging onto a very thin thread.

I feel content. I feel fulfilled. I feel happy.

I haven’t said those words (and meant them) in a very long time, it seems. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve not been so down that I haven’t had moments of contentment or happiness or fulfillment, but not all three. Not all at once, for more than a few hours, or a day.

Granted, I realise that the first week of school often does this to people (from what I’ve read on mothers with more experience under their belts) and that inertia may eventually set in again, but even if it does, I now know that as much as I resisted the idea, I need structure to my days. I am a much better parent when I keep going and stay busy, not allowing myself to sit down and think too much about all the things that are going wrong or that I’d rather be doing. I thrive on having a full, varied schedule with the children, even if it’s just “Tuesday: cafe for tea. Wednesday: playground with friend down the road. Friday: ballet and then out for ice cream.” Or whatever. But I’ve noticed that if I take the kids out twice a day, even if it’s just to the shops or the library or to climb to the top of a hill and then race down, we all get on so much better. I suppose being cooped up in a small terraced house all day, tripping over one another and generally just getting on each other’s nerves is a recipe for disaster, really. It’s a wonder we’re all still alive. Cramped spaces make everything seem worse, don’t they?

I know that once winter sets in and life settles down again and the newness wears off, I might find myself backsliding to that place, the one I now know was teetering on the edge of depression, but for now I’m enjoying the moment. I’m connecting with my kids, especially TNC, like I haven’t in quite awhile. Our relationship is thriving. They deserve a better, happier, more balanced mother. And it turns out, all I needed to make that happen was an early shower and spending a lot more time out of the house. Who knew?

All I can say is thank god for the iPhone. Instead of wanting to get back home because I’m bored stiff at the playground and want to check emails, I can just park myself on a bench and keep one eye on my progeny while the other composes electronic messages.

Technology, you will be either the undoing of me or the making of me. I guess we’ll find out which soon enough.

• Home and Hearth , Miscellaneous Missives , Parenting 101 , School
• Comments(16)