No Means Maybe No...

“No Means Maybe No: Rape Culture as a Result of What We Teach Our Children”

On the road to destroying rape culture, I’ve seen & read a lot of good ideas.  I do believe we need to change the mindset of the majority, and while I concur that it means not telling girls “don’t get raped” but teaching boys “don’t rape” I think we can agree that this is an issue deeper than gender.  The responsibility is not on women to not get raped, but the responsibility is on ALL of us to change the way we treat each other, and the way we educate younger generations.

While the Stubenville trial and the fallout from it unfolded, I couldn’t help but notice some basic parallels between the boy who were charged and their defenses, and the kinds of behavior I see on a daily basis. 

I work with young children—at an elementary school—and I have for about a decade.  While each child is unique and individual, as a group, they tend to fit into certain behavioral patterns and developmental stages.  If you have kids, work with them, plan to work with them, or even just have a kid somewhere in your family, this is relevant to you.  This isn’t just about what moms and dads and teachers should be teaching kids.  This is about all of us.  And I can share three things that I see contributing to the perpetuation of rape culture.

1.      Children need to learn to treat EVERYONE with respect.  Kids learn very early on how to categorize people into sup groups and draw subtle lines dividing themselves from Others.  This is an easy stepping stone to behaviors like dehumanizing and vilifying another person for being different, not agreeing with you, or not letting you have what you want.  There is an eerie parallel between a child who hurts another child, blames the other person, and says he or she deserves it, and a case like the Stubenville rapes.  If a child learns that every human is worthy of respect and basic human decency, they are more able to empathize instead of vilify.  If children understand that people are other humans just like them, with the same feelings, needs, and desires, then they are less likely to feel entitled to belittle their existence, and take from them.  This has applications far beyond gender issues and rape; this can change how other races and religions and cultures are viewed.  
 

2.      We need to stop the entitlement culture.  This is not a political statement; this is an observation.  The next time you are around a child, even if it’s just a kid down the aisle from you at the grocery store, I want you to watch carefully what happens when they are denied something they want (but do not need).  Chances are you will see wailing, tantrums, and the absolute breakdown of what minutes ago may have seemed like a normal, well-adjusted child.  Even in older children, who have mostly learned to control themselves, you are likely to witness eye rolling, huffy sighs, foot stamping, negativity, complaining, and whining.  (These are all things I deal with on a daily basis.) 

I am not sure how it happened, but kids today to not expect to be denied anything.  If they want something, whether it is an object or an action they wish to carry out, they feel entitled to it.  The parallels now grow even clearer: a rapist is a person who has never learned that “no means no.”  Most children today learn from an early age that “no” is negotiable.  It is a temporary obstacle, and they have an artillery of tactics to get past it.  A caregiver may grow weary of the battle and give in, reinforcing the idea that “no means maybe.” 

3.      There need to be consequences.  I am in no way an advocate of harsh punishments for children.  I don’t want to bring paddling back to schools, however effective it might have been in the past.  However, I don’t feel our current level of follow-through is getting the job done, either.  I fully understand how challenging it is to enforce a negative consequence.  As I said above, denying a child something they want brings on a barrage of manipulation.  I have seen children spiral into tears over the simplest things, and lose control when asked to sit quietly for a few moments.  This is what they do.  They will test the boundaries.  They will make their caregivers feel like horrible humans for even the smallest of consequences.  They will be hostile and defensive when they are held responsible for their actions.  There will be lies and denials even in the face of evidence.  This is the very moment caregivers must be at their most firm.  A caregiver can be calm and firm yet still compassionate when carrying out a consequence, and they must remind themselves that this is absolutely necessary.  A child MUST learn this.  Otherwise, you end up with two teenage boys crying in a courtroom because they are being punished for a horrible crime. 

I would never want to give the impression that I am holding current and past generations of parents responsible for the rap culture we currently live in.  (Or even that I am pointing fingers of blame at the parents of the two boys in the Stubenville trial).  I am simply pointing out some issues I have seen, which, if unchecked, will likely only perpetuate rape culture in the future (as well as other issues, I’m sure). 

I love children and it is a privilege to work with them (most of the time).  They are funny and creative and brilliant, but they need guidance.  They don’t know that they have a long way to go and a lot to learn.  They often think that they know better than adults (something which is reinforced by the media—but that is another rant for another time).  As adults, we may feel too broken and confused about life to properly guide a child.  But it is the responsibility of all of us to work together to nurture a different outlook on the world, so that future generations do not have to grow up as scared as we often are. 

Dear Elizabeth Gaskell,

Please forgive any impudence or impropriety on my part for writing you.  I realize this letter is terribly late, and will never reach you, but all the same I feel it must be written.

I have just today finished your wonderful novel, "North and South."  I cannot tell you how profoundly moved I am by it.  At first, it was just the romance between Margaret Hale and John Thornton that drew me in; what a splendid, passionate romance it is, to be sure.  My own heart raced every time you spoke of Mr. Thornton's deeper feelings toward Margaret.  Oh, wouldn't we all wish to be loved so thoroughly!  But there were so many other details and twists in the story that captivated me, til I wished I could just crawl inside the pages and visit awhile.

Through her trials and suffering, Margaret has become like a sister to me, a 'kindred spirit,' to borrow a phrase from another ink-and-paper friend of mine.  Though I know nothing of the great grief of losing both my parents, there were other misfortunes that she had occasion to reflect upon, and several of her thoughtful musings mirrored my own feelings in similar circumstances.  It is a wonder to me, for we live worlds and centuries apart, and yet, had we met, we could have talked of many things.  The bitterness of being displaced from a beloved town, only to find one's self in a seemingly less desirable place; the whirlwind of feelings one has on returning to an old home and finding it changed, as well as yourself; indeed, even the many conversations she has with herself about her faith and her conduct were so well written I could imagine and recall the times I have felt similarly.

John Thornton is a character unto himself, and I could write you pages in praise for creating such a man.  He is far from perfect, I realize that quite well.  Still, he is such a measured combination of strong, willful masculinity combined with the secondary, hidden, tenderhearted nature such as must make him the object of many a reader's deep affections.  Just as he will love Margaret all the more for her own contempt and his mother's hate, we will love him all the more even when Margaret rejects him.  But there is something else there, too; I found myself wishing in a self-pitying kind of way that a man like Mr. Thornton would sweep into my life and love me as recklessly and unrelentingly.  But now I wonder if in some imperfect way, he was meant to be a metaphor--not an allegory, mind, but an illustration--of God's love.  Even if that was unintentional, we still have the delight of seeing how much Thornton and Margaret effect one another, so that by the last chapters, we can see how each has altered enough for them to draw together in requited love.

I found a curious by-product of reading this novel was in appreciating the simple faith, sincere modesty, and chaste conduct of the characters.  You will not know this, of course, but in my day romantic stories are everywhere.  There are some cheap thrills to be found in them, I grant, but they pale in comparison to the story you weave.  Couples of my day are portrayed as engaging in sexual liberties which would shock you--would certainly have shocked Margaret beyond words.  It is commonplace here, though, and few even give it pause for thought.  Though I myself have not experienced such things, I have become, in a sense, desensitized to the idea of others experiencing it.  Then along comes your novel, like a breath of fresh summer air.  The very tenderness with which Mr. Thornton recalled Margaret's arms about his neck and longed to feel them again--only that, no more, with none of the lewd, lurid insinuations that are all too familiar--nearly broke my heart.  No era is perfect, but something in your story makes me yearn for a time when once again, the bare touch of two hands clasping would be considered a kind of pure intimacy.

There was also something in the very dignified manner in which both Margaret and Thornton conducted themselves that acted as a kind of conviction on me.  Perhaps there are those would consider such a book "preachy," but I did not feel so.  I felt their own exhortations to themselves in their sufferings to be a kind of clarion call to my own soul, to bear up and be strong even when my heart feels weak.  They both strive for self-control, which again clashes in stark contrast with the common attitudes of people in my day.  Here, we wish to deny ourselves nothing.  We vent our feelings in haste and spout our opinions for the world to see, and we do not like to wait or be told no.  We are like large, spoiled children who expect to have our wishes granted and cry bitterly when they are not, as they inevitably cannot be.  Would that we were all a little more patient, willing to accept the consequences of our own actions, and had a bit more restraint--like the heroes you created.  Your characters held strong convictions which did not sway, and yet true to life, they experienced doubt, despair, and reproach.  Both had enough failings and short-sightedness despite their best efforts, yet this softens them in our eyes and makes them relatable.  They spoke honestly and called out the best not only in each other, but in those around them, to the best of their abilities.  Well, excepting perhaps Fanny and Edith, the silly girls.

And so I express all this for the purpose of acknowledging my gratitude.  Thank you for writing this novel, which I only discovered last month, and which I have been greedily devouring for the past two weeks.  I only wish there was a bit more to the end--but I am sure you will not see that as a criticism, for as an author myself I know the flattering effect the clamor for "More!" produces.  And in truth, it left me feeling curiously satisfied, as most novels do not.  It has left an impression on me, one I will not soon forget.  Aside from all that I have already reveled in, I must confess that I was somewhat surprised in yet another way.  I am a lifelong reader and book lover, from a very young age.  Yet now, in my thirties, I find myself still amazed at discovering new books--and from their pages, new friends--new stories to love, treasure up, and learn from.  If I were to write a letter of thanks to every author whose work has touched me as yours has, I would still be busy indeed.  Perhaps I write to you tonight because your story is still fresh and vivid in my mind, or perhaps because I am sure not to offend or irritate you, as you will never read this.  I almost wish you could, because I should like you to know how much I enjoyed your book.  But then I suspect you are far beyond the need of any praise from earthly man (or woman).  Perhaps much later, on some eternal day hence, we will be able to sit and talk of John and Margaret like old friends, and that would be pleasant.

Until such a day, I will be content with sharing my praise of your work with the world--or at least, the few dozen people or so who might ever read this.

I remain Your Grateful Reader,

Jessica

Only Switchfoot Knows How I Feel

It's less than two weeks before Switchfoot, my favorite band of all time, releases their new album, Vice Verses. 
From what I've heard, read, and gleaned, I'm pretty sure I'll be playing it non-stop the moment I own it.  And yeah, I'll probably blog about it too.

Over the years, I've made no secret of the fact that their lyrics speak to me and hit me where I am.  I have a whole playlist of songs I call "Only Switchfoot Knows How I Feel" because of their ability to speak into my struggles.  So while I'm waiting to hear & review "Vice Verses," I thought I'd do something a bit different and let their lyrics speak for themselves.  Here are some of my favorite lines from SOME of my favorite Switchfoot songs (by no means a comprehensive list!).  Songs & albums listed below for those interested, with links to Youtube...(btw, check out the "Awakening" video...it features TONY HALE.  Yeah, the guy from "Arrested Development" & "Chuck."  Seriously). 

Take a moment, though, and see if you don't find yourself in a few of these lyrics, as well.

I am the sea on a moonless night
I am the leaky, dripping pipes
I am the raindrop falling down
Always longing for the deeper ground
I am the broken, breaking seas
Even my blood finds ways to bleed

Even in my dreams

I am restless
I am restless
I am restless
I’m looking for you

I am the dried up doubting eyes
Looking for the well that won’t run dry

Running for the other side
The world that I’ve always been denied
Running hard for the infinite
With the tears of saints and hypocrites

I am restless
I run like the ocean to find your shore
I’m looking for you

I wish I had what I needed
To be on my own
‘Cause I feel so defeated
And I’m feeling alone

And it all seems so helpless
And I have no plans
I’m a plane in the sunset
With nowhere to land

And I feel stuck
Watching history repeating
Yeah, who am I?
Just a kid who knows he’s needy

Let me know that You hear me
Let me know Your touch
Let me know that You love me
And let that be enough

When you feel like my dreams are so far
Sing to me of the plans
That you have for me over again

And I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only yours I pray
To be only yours I know now
You’re my only hope

I give you my apathy
I’m giving you all of me
I want your symphony
Singing in all that I am
At the top of my lungs
I’m giving it back

Life is not what I thought it was
Twenty-four hours ago
And I’m not who I thought I was
Twenty-four hours ago
But see I’m not copping out
When you’re raising the dead in me

Maybe I’ve been the problem
Maybe I’m the one to blame
I’ve been thinking maybe I’ve been partly cloudy
Maybe I’m the chance of rain
And maybe I’m overcast
And maybe all my luck’s washed down the drain

I’ve been thinking about everyone
Everyone, you look so lonely

I want to wake up kicking and screaming
I want to wake up kicking and screaming
I want to know that my heart’s still beating,
It’s beating,I’m bleeding
I want to wake up kicking and screaming
I want to live like I know what I’m leaving
I want a heart that I know is beating,
It’s beating… it’s beating…
I’m bleeding

We lock our souls in cages
We hide inside our shells
It’s hard to free the ones you love
When you can’t forgive yourself

I’ve made a mess of me
I want to reverse this tragedy
I’ve made a mess of me
I want to spend the rest of my life alive

Back in the tragedy
I’ve made a mess of me
My bitter means, my bitter ends
I see the irony
It gets the best of me
Dying to be made new again

Waiting for daylight to break up this room
Waiting for daylight to break
I’ve been alone, in the dark I’ve been dreaming
I’ve been waking up without you,
I’ve been waking up without you
For too long

So this is the way that I say I need You
This is the way that I say I love You
This is the way that I say I’m Yours
This is the way, this is the way, that I’m

Learning to breathe
I’m learning to crawl
I’m finding that You and You alone can break my fall
I’m living again, awake and alive
I’m dying to breathe in these abundant skies

Insecure and incomplete, here I am, here I am,
Won’t you get me?

My fears have worn me out
My fears have worn me out, worn me

You push until you’re shoving
You bend until you break
Do you stand on the broken fields where your fathers lay?
It’ll be a day like this one, when the world caves in

Is there’s nothing here worth saving?
Is no one here at all?
Is there any net left that could break our fall?
It’ll be a day like this one
When the sky falls down
And the hungry and poor and deserted are found

Are you discontented? Have you been pushing hard?
Have you been throwing down this broken house of cards?
It’ll be a day like this one when the world caves in

Is there nothing left now?
Nothing left to sing
Are there any left who haven’t kissed the enemy?
Is this the New Year or just another desperation?
Does justice never find you?
Do the wicked never lose?
Is there any honest song to sing besides these blues?

And nothing is okay
Until the world caves in
Until the world caves in, until the world caves in…

I come alive when I hear you singing
But lately I haven't been hearing a thing
I get the feeling that I'm in between
A machine and a man who only looks like me
I try and hide it and not let it show
But deep down inside me I just don't know
Am I a man if I feel like a hoax?
The stranger in the mirror's been wearing my clothes
No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I want to thrive, not just survive

what are you aiming for out here alone?
I said I’m aiming for home

nowhere feels safe to me,
nowhere feels home
even in crowds I’m alone

holding on, holding on

every now and then I see you dreaming
every now and then I see you cry
every now and then I see you reaching,
reaching for the other side
what are you waiting for?

You’ve been living life like it’s a sequel
And you’re already bored with the plot
As if the cast and the score are more money than before
But the script and the backdrops are stock

Ah so come on, come on, come on
Let’s abandon this darkness
Oh come on, come on, come on
Let’s follow this through
Ah so come on, come on, come on
Everything’s waiting
We’ll be lit up like fire and gold
When everything’s new
Yeah when everything’s new

You’ve been hiding in the bedroom,
Hoping this isn’t how the story has to go
It’s not the way it goes, it’s your book now,

You’re a lonely soul,
In a land of broken hearts
And far from home,
Is a perfect place to start

So this final verse,
Is a contradiction
And the more we learn,
The less we know
This world is a dead man down
Every breath is a fading crown we wear,
Like some debilitated king
Don’t let go tonight

Earth spins and the moon goes round

The green comes from the frozen ground
And everything will be made new again,
Like freedom in spring.

In a world full of bitter pain and bitter doubt
I was trying so hard to fit in, fit in,
Until I found out

I don’t belong here
I don’t belong here
I’m gonna set sight and set sail for the kingdom come

We are a beautiful letdown,
Painfully uncool,
The church of the dropouts, the losers
The sinners, the failures, and the fools
Oh what a beautiful letdown
Are we salt in the wound
Let us sing one true tune

Oh, your love is a symphony
all around me, running through me

Oh, your love is a melody
underneath me, running to me

your love is a song

But everything inside you knows

there’s more than what you’ve heard
There’s so much more than empty conversations

filled with empty words

Where is God in the night sky?
Where is God in the city light?
Where is God in the earthquake?
Where is God in the genocide?

Where are you in my broken heart?
Everything seems to fall apart
Everything feels rusted over
Tell me that you’re there

I know that there’s a meaning to it all
A little resurrection every time I fall
You got your babies, I got my hearses
Every blessing comes with a set of curses
I got my vices, I got my vice verses
These are my vice verses
These are my vice verses

Yeah
These are my vice verses.

“Restless” (Vice Verses), “Let ThatBe Enough” & “Only Hope” (New Way to be Human), “Twenty-Four” (The Beautiful Letdown), “Stars” (Nothing is Sound), “Awakening” (Oh! Gravity), “Messof Me" (Hello Hurricane), “Daylight to Break” (Eastern Hymns for Western Shores), “Learning to Breathe” (Learning to Breathe), “Redemption” (The Beautiful Letdown), “The Blues” (Nothing is Sound), “Thrive” (Vice Verses), “Red Eyes” (Hello Hurricane), “C’mon, C’mon” (Oh! Ep), “Golden” (Nothing is Sound), “TheBeautiful Letdown” (The Beautiful Letdown), “Your Love is a Song” (Hello Hurricane), “On Fire” (The Beautiful Letdown), “Vice Verses” (Vice Verses).