Doing nothing says everything

NS January 21st, 2010

Did you know that the Metropolitan Police sent a message to every woman in the UK yesterday?

What, you didn’t get yours? Well, it didn’t come on paper and through the letterbox, admittedly (that would contravene its environmental policy and administration budget, you see), but we can all understand —  loud and clear and in no uncertain terms — what that message was. It went something like this:

Dear Birds Women of the UK,

We are sorry we were caught regret the honest mistakes systemic failures and staggering inactions on our part which led to what seemed like a nice guy serial sexual predator John Worboys (aka the Black Cab Rapist) carrying out countless attacks over a period of years on drunk slappers numerous victims, none of whom we believed when they came forward.

While we take allegations of sexual assault not at all seriously, the investigations stemming from these female fairy tales allegations were completely inadequate not quite up to our usual piss-poor high standards. For this we are totally unrepentant sorry and have resolved to get the media off our backs make changes at no all levels of the department, including a new unit specialising in regret sex sexual offences committed against whiny feminist bitches women. At all times At this time, we do not feel that any further disciplinary action against the officers in charge of the utterly failed mismanaged investigations is deserved needed.

Fuck Thank you very much,

The Boys Met

I’ll just pause while you refocus your eyes after all that reading between the lines (ahem).

Obviously, that wasn’t the exact wording, but you get the drift. If you are of a more exacting nature and wish to read the nauseating excuses comments from deputy chair of the Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) Deborah Glass on why the body decided to only issue the officers with written warnings, see below.

“I think on the evidence available the written warnings outcome was right,” she said. “They are a serious sanction requiring officers to accept they have breached the police code of conduct and have failed in some way. People will say, if you cannot sack them what’s the point? But there is still a point, there are important points around learning here. It is not about slamming the Metropolitan police. This is their wake-up call.” She acknowledged that had the police officers at the centre of the inquiry not committed “serious errors of judgment” and “missed crucial investigative opportunities” when Worboys could have been stopped before he went on to assault more women. “There’s certainly a likelihood that if they had followed up lines of inquiry he would have been in custody much earlier,” she said.

Whew! And here I thought that written warnings were just a weak, one-digit tap on the wrist: not even akin to a slap! Thankfully we have Deborah to explain that, actually, writing the words ‘You were naughty…but carry on as you were” in an officer’s file (perhaps alongside a frowny-face doodled in the margins) is an adequate reprimand for “serious errors of judgment” and other perfectly understandable breaches of professional misconduct like laughing at the victims, failing to follow up crucial leads or interview any potential witnesses, failing to fully investigate Worboys or obtain a warrant to search his home and, most of all, failing to believe that anything could or even should be done about it.

For the Met and the IPCC to act like this was some kind of shocking revelation and that the individual officers in question conducted themselves (and the investigations) in an unusual, non-sanctioned manner is absolute and utter bullshit. For as long as they have been reporting sex crimes (a long time) and for as long as they have been police officers themselves (not such a long time), women have been belittledharassed, bullied and disbelieved by the boys in blue. Those meant to protect the people and uphold the law have often been accused of protecting one another from criticism and even from criminal charges, despite compelling evidence to the contrary. They have botched other serial rape cases. The rape conviction rate in this country is the lowest in Europe, a measly 6%.

This is not a recent phenomenon.

Why, just as recently as 2003, a Met rugby team put together a magazine for its players with sparkling sexist gems such as: “Why did God invent lesbians? So feminists wouldn’t breed,” and “Women: can’t live with them, can’t force them into slavery,” not to mention “How do you know when your wife may be dead? When the sex is the same but the washing starts to pile up in the sink.”

But hey, I need to lighten up, right? It’s all just a bit of harmless fun and in no way influences the way these men think, behave or do their jobs, yeah? Tell me it doesn’t contribute to rape culture or the belief that a woman who reports a sexual assault is to be shooed away, fobbed off or altogether discredited unless she has irrefutable proof, has been battered to within an inch of her life and/or is a ‘respectable’ white woman who hadn’t been drinking, wearing revealing clothing or flirting before she was violated.

If you believe that I’d also like to talk to you about tropical jungles in Siberia and ocean-view property in Nebraska. Call me.

Hell, even the Guardian reporter from whom this information comes in today’s paper (and who, on the surface, seems quite repulsed by it) subtitled his article, “Boys will be boys. But shouldn’t the boys in blue know better?” suggesting that men naturally feel and think these things about women (by the way, it’s called m-i-s-o-g-y-n-y) but that, as police officers, these guys should have hidden it better.

So thanks, Met police, for the fucking pathetic half-hearted attempt at making yourselves blameless accountable, but your words, I’m afraid, hold no value. Your actions speak louder and ring truer than any statement you could ever make.

A new NS venture

NS January 20th, 2010

FF Symbol (1)

I have to admit something and it’s going to be very difficult for me to say. Okay, here goes.

I’ve been cheating on you, Noble Savage. I’ve been working on this other website and it looks like it’s gotten serious. I’m not breaking things off with you (No! Not at all!) and it doesn’t mean we can’t still be together, create new memories and share good times; it just means that I have so much online love to give that no single blog could handle it. I have to spread myself around, you see. It’s in my BLOOD. But you know I still love you, right?

I’m sorry if this sounds exactly like a pathetic excuse given by a two-timin’, lyin’, cheatin’, no-good man in a country song but that’s just how I roll, see what I’m saying? So without further ado (*drum roll please*):

I am happy to announce that my new website, Fertile Feminism, has launched as of today. It was designed and created with an enormous amount of help from the amazingly skilled and oh-so-professional Aaron Smith of 100000words. I’ve copied the ‘About’ section below to give you a feel for what its purpose is. I’d be oh-so-grateful if you came over to have a look and, if you’re interested, subscribe.

This site’s chief aims are: Fostering a greater understanding of women’s issues amongst mothers and helping those who have been alienated by feminism to feel more included and invested in it as a social movement; exploring ways in which mainstream feminism could better advocate for mothers (and their children); and creating an honest, realistic and mutually-respectful dialogue on how each can merge into and strengthen the other.

The discussions here will stem mainly from relevant news items, the feminist and parenting blogospheres and both UK and US politics. This is not a personal blog, as such: it is a community project intended to showcase and discuss the various viewpoints, ideologies and challenges facing mothers, feminists and that not-uncommon creature, the feminist mother.

Fertile Feminism is about bringing the activism already present within the vibrant, ever-growing feminist movement together with the vast army of mothers who are also disillusioned with the status quo. It is about addressing the challenges and injustices we all face, but with a particular interest in issues most effecting parents. Mostly, it’s about using our voices and our numbers to demand and create the kind of change that will benefit us all, regardless of gender or parental status.

We’ve got to start somewhere — let’s get our hands dirty.

Here I explain how I came to be interested and involved in feminist mothering and the first post, ‘The public policing of pregnancy,’ is ready and waiting. If you have any comments or experiences to share I’m all ears! My loyalties will not be divided so feel free to read and take part in one or both.

Thank you kindly, dear readers, and I hope to see you at Fertile Feminism soon.

Bloggers For Haiti

NS January 18th, 2010

shelterbox

Have you been wanting to give something to Haiti but have perhaps hesitated, not knowing which organisation to donate to and what they’ll do with the money? Do you like the idea of helping to purchase a specific item that you know will be put to good use?

Some fantastic bloggers have gotten together and started a Just Giving page to help raise funds for ShelterBox, an organisation that is incredibly vital in the aftermath of disasters such as the earthquake that has destroyed much of Haiti. As pictured above, each box contains a ten-person tent designed to withstand heavy rainfall, extreme temperatures and high winds and comes with partitions so private spaces can be created inside. It also includes other vital survival equipment like thermal blankets, water purification and cooking supplies, a wood-burning or multi-fuel stove, a tool kit enabling latrines to be dug, firewood to be chopped and basic repairs to damaged dwellings to be made.

The box itself is lightweight and waterproof and can be used to store food and water or even double as a cot for a small baby. A supply of colouring and drawing materials for a child, who will likely have lost all of his or her possessions along with family members, is also included. It may seem irrelevant, but it’s often the small kindnesses and distractions that can help a child cope and bring a smile to his or her face.

Please, I beg you: give whatever you can to this fantastic organisation. They need our help to get as many of these boxes to the families in Haiti who have suddenly found themselves bereaved, injured, ill, homeless, thirsty and hungry. Each box costs nearly £500 so the more funds we can raise to ensure as many boxes as possible are sent, the better. As I type this, over £2,000 has been raised so far by the Bloggers For Haiti campaign, in the short space of a couple of days. That’s four boxes, ready to be shipped out! That’s shelter and supplies for 40 people.

Let’s help another 40, and then another. Just give.

Donations can also be made to Save The Children and UNICEF, amongst many others.

Death, as viewed through a lens

NS January 15th, 2010

Do we really need to see photos of dead bodies in Haiti?

No, I mean it. Do we really need to see them to make us understand what’s going on there, how much devastation and human suffering are flowing through the broken, dusty streets? Do we need to see a dead schoolgirl crushed by concrete at her desk? Do we need to see a grieving, wailing father holding his dead child in his arms? Do we need to see bloody arms and footless shoes and a mother with her arms raised up into the air, knowing that at that exact moment her heart was being ripped from her chest, put through the wringer of tragedy and returned to her, broken and forever shadowed by her loss?

But now, particularly since I’ve had children, I find looking at photos like the one above, from the New York Daily News, very difficult and almost voyeuristic. Who am I that I should be seeing this man’s face as he holds his dead child to his chest? Then again, who am I to protest that I don’t want to see it?

If we’d just read the headlines, with no photos, would we care as much? If we hadn’t seen the faces of the people who survived, those who are homeless and injured and searching for missing loved ones, would we be digging into our pockets to give them whatever money we are able to?

I’m divided on this issue. As a journalism student at university, I sat through many an ethics lecture. I even took an entire class devoted to the ethics of covering tragedies and natural disasters. Every time we debated a controversial photo, the room was divided: half of us thought it was unethical, gratuitous, unnecessary, sensationalist; the other half thought they were a necessary, often useful evil. What better way to get people’s attention and make them understand what’s happening than to let the images do the talking? Why write three pages trying to describe the devastation when one picture says it all? Isn’t it a journalist’s responsibility to fully report and visually convey the situation they’re covering?

I used to think it was. I was in the latter group, the ones who, though saddened and disturbed by some of the more graphic photos, found they helped the public more fully understand the situation and emotionally connect to the subjects. Especially in incidents where survivors need help and donations, using photos to convey the urgency of the situation is appealing. And it works. Studies have shown that people give more when they are confronted with images of human suffering; they just aren’t as interested if what they’re presented with is an abstract thought, a far-away problem in some far-away place.

But that still begs the question: is it ethical? Is it right to put human suffering in all its raw immediacy on the front page, especially when a newspaper is making a profit from the sales of that image? Does it disgrace and dishonour those whom it portrays? Or does it tell the stories of those in the photos; let everyone know that they are there — hurting, bleeding, grieving, dying…but there?

I’m still not sure. My journalism roots say we need to see this, we need to care. But then I find myself, in the last few days of doing my day job (in which I have to look at dozens of newspapers’ front pages), doing my work with tears streaming down my face and my stomach churning. Another foot. Another arm. Another parent’s child, crushed by chaos. Another man’s struggle to clear debris while looking for his wife or sister, furiously digging with his bare hands, looking for a scrap of clothing or an inch of flesh that he recognises.

This is death, as viewed through a lens. Should we put the cap back on it and leave those mourning in Haiti their privacy, or should we continue to stare down the tragedy telescope in the hopes that it convinces others to donate?

What are your thoughts?

Wanted: an end to rape

NS January 12th, 2010

Warning: may be triggering to sexual assault survivors

Imagine you broke up with your boyfriend, a US Marine, and some time later found an ad on Craigslist that he has posted, pretending to be you, in which he said that you wanted to be raped and were looking for a man to fulfill your ‘fantasy.’ Imagine you got the ad taken down and reported it to police and though undoubtedly disgusted and shaken, thought that was the end of it.

Now imagine that before the ad was removed, a man contacted the email address it had listed, offering his services in fulfilling your ‘rape fantasy. ‘ Your ex and this man then carried out lengthy instant messaging conversations in which the man posing as you, the one with whom you used to be in a relationship and you once cared about, gave explicit instructions on how you wanted to be assaulted (“humiliation, physical abuse, sexual abuse”) and told this stranger where you lived.

Then, imagine your worst nightmare comes true. A stranger breaks into your home:  binds, blindfolds and gags you; and then rapes you while holding a knife to your throat, as instructed by your former lover from where he lives, on a military base in California.

Sound like a plot from a soap opera or a bad porno movie? Oh, how I wish I could tell you it was.

This actually happened, just last month, to a 25-year-old woman in Wyoming. Her attacker faces charges of first-degree sexual assault, first-degree burglary and first-degree kidnapping. Her ex-boyfriend is being charged with first-degree conspiracy to commit sexual assault.

Not surprisingly, her ex, Jebidiah James Stipe, 27, was in the process of being dismissed from the military for an “undisclosed pattern of misconduct” at the time of his arrest, Marine Corp officials said. I would not be surprised at all if that “pattern of misconduct” included threats, intimidation, insubordination, physical violence, sexual assault and/or sexual harrassment; most likely towards females he worked with and for. The kind of hatred towards women that would allow a man to arrange the brutal rape of his ex-girlfriend would undoutedly be hard to keep hidden from other females who crossed his path.

But what I find so disturbing about this story is not only the incredibly heinous and illegal actions of Jebidiah Stipe, but those of the man who agreed to carry out the sexual assault on his behalf. I know that there will be some who say: “But he was just answering what he believed to be a legitimate ad! He thought he was just fulfilling this kinky lady’s fantasy! He only did what ’she’ asked him to!” and I’m not sure if legally this guy will have a leg to stand on with that argument (though I wouldn’t be surprised if it held up, given some of the ridiculous defenses rapists and their attorneys have used in the past), but this much is clear:

This man, Ty McDowell, 26, was only able to believe that this woman ‘wanted’ to be raped because he believes that those two things are able to mutually exist. Only in a culture that excuses and diminishes all but the most overt, violent forms of sexual assault was McDowell able to convince himself that he was merely fulfilling a not-all-that-uncommon fantasy; one that many women are too embarrassed or scared to admit they harbor. ‘No’  doesn’t always mean no, apparently; it also sometimes means ‘Yes please, and do it harder!’ according to popular myth.

And who can blame him for making this mistake, really? McDowell has undoubtedly grown up watching violent, degrading pornography in which women’s bodies are ‘taken’ and men are the ones ‘giving’ it to them, as if female sexuality and autonomy were commodities as common and worthless as coffee mugs or scented candles in the office Secret Santa gift exchange. He’s undoubtedly heard his peers make jokes about sexual assault and seen rape trials unfold where the victim’s character and whether she really said No (and forcefully enough, to boot) were called into question and made her out to be a woman who, in the end, didn’t want to stop the unwanted sex badly enough or who wanted it all along but felt too ashamed to give in and say Yes outright.

Ty McDowell grew up in a culture that objectifies women to the point where we can’t even buy running shoes without making it all about tits and ass and how fuckable we are to men. He grew up in a society where a sizeable portion of the population think a woman is at least partially (if not totally) at fault for her rape if she had been drinking, had flirted with her assailant before the attack or was wearing ‘revealing’ clothing. He grew up in a place where a ’sex robot’ can be invented, constructed, demonstrated and sold by ‘normal’ people and publicised in mainstream media markets without a disturbed eyelash being batted [I won't post a link to the video here but needless to say it is grotesque; not only is it misogynist but also plain creepy, with references to the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center and with one of the robot's 'personalities' describing her death].

Though it would be easy to dismiss this as just another bizarre, one-off creation, that this kind of thing is only a ‘joke’ or for ‘losers’, it shows just how inconsequential and disposable some men think women’s bodies are and what little importance they place on our thoughts, feelings and rights to ourselves. That some would rather have sex with a doll than bother to do the work in forming an authentic, consenting sexual bond with a real, live woman is exactly the kind of view that contributes to the dehumanization of women and, in turn, the proliferation of  rape culture. It leads to a world where a man can, with the mere placement of an ad, leave a woman’s body violated and her life in pieces. And that kind of world scares (and angers) the hell out of me.

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