Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Last week's decision not to bring the case for attempted rape and sexual assault against Dominique Strauss Kahn was hardly a shock. The whole case was a clusterfuck of supreme proportions. The prosecution went overboard trying to make Nafitassou Diallo out to a be a room cleaning representation of perfect womanhood, setting her up to fall very hard and fast if anything proved otherwise. The defence played a clever game in saying the prosecution ws biased against DSK because of who he was and hoist them with their own petard as Cyrus Vance Jr and his team did the defence's dirty work for them by digging very deep on Diallo to try and show just how unbiased they were. Diallo turned out to be a flawed victim (but then aren't we all according to the very high standards set?) and her lie on her asylum application about a gang rape in Guinea did make a fair trial tricky to ensure.
But I'm not here to re-hash the DSK case. I really don't think much else can be said about it now. What has piqued my interest is the unbelievable amount of victim blaming, rape apologism and attempts to belittle sexual assault that have floated to the surface around it. Some of it is overt and palpable, some of it is so insidious and internalised that it blows my mind and some of it is borne of ignorance, the peddling of rape myths and the perceptions that our imbalance justice system creates. But despite the different paths, it all leads to one result. Women who report rape aren't believed and their trauma and fear is minimised at every step of the way.
Friday, 26 August 2011
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
I went on a date recently. And it was fantastic. We clicked immediately, there was a certain chemistry, we talked the whole evening away without noticing time passing and there was no game playing. He texted me at lunchtime the next day to say he'd like to see me again soon, was I free on Thursday? We met again and had another great evening over sherry and tapas. There was a enthusiastic goodnight kiss. Other commitments for both of us stopped us meeting the next week, but there were many texts and arrangement to meet again the first night we were both free. There were drinks and dinner, again not leaving the restaurant til the staff wearily told us to go home. We lingered on the way to the Tube and talked about meeting again, parting with giggles and jokes. It all seemed promising and delightfully grown up. And then he vanished into thin air and stopped contacting me completely...