Is rape culture really the problem?


A friend shared this post on a concept you may’ve heard about before:

Rape Culture.

Her apt accompanying commentary on it was “If you have a penis, I’m offended for you.”

And… gotta say… I couldn’t help but agree after reading it.


Er… trying to read it. I know it’s superficial and awful and shallow of me, but when I take time to read something online that doesn’t have pretty pictures or funny gifs every so many paragraphs, I expect it to be well delivered, cohesive, and grammatically correct. One hopes to see those things anyway, but somehow I’ve found an inverse relache has developed between my time online and my expectations out of humanity. Even so, I couldn’t but help notice the underlying irony when this particular piece raped its own message with the mechanized masochistic torture dildo of uninspired attempts to relate to the reader and weak metaphors.

I don’t say that to be mean, either.

Because of what I could get through, there were indeed a few gems in it – like that part where he says “it’s not the term, but the idea it describes that matters.” I like that message for any concept. So, what is the idea being described here, then? I felt urged to revisit this concept. After wiki-researching rape culture, I couldn’t help but feel that little twinge which happens any time a cranial clash of polar ideologies meet to make a confusion vortex in my head.

What was this sudden stirring in my mind and intestines alike?


I suppose it’s how “rape culture” is a term that’s overwhelming.

But why? Maybe it’s because the idea that it describes is addressing just one symptom of a larger issue – based on separation of external and internal characteristics alike. I mean, when we all join hands and sit under the soft carcinogenic glow of an X-ray machine, we can see we’re all essentially the same under our genital holes. That’s hard to see when those holes seem to serve the dual purpose of being puppeteered by culture to believe something else.


The same goes for basic belief systems too:

If I cloned a child being groomed for terrorism and placed that clone with a family of twenty who all worship Jesus-Joseph-Smith-‘Murca-Christ, they’d grow up a bit different from eachother, wouldn’t they? They’re still the same person – literally – and yet they develop different identities. Same goes for any two people in the world. And my inhumane thought experiments needn’t be carried out to prove that. We need only recall the fact that we all come from the same star sharts that diarrhea’d our elemental ancestors onto earth once upon a time. And at one point in history, our entire species was just 40 pairs strong. Do you realize that means you, I, Kim Jung Un, and that one voodoo village of people who who put knife slices in their peens to inject reptile guts for virility… all came from that same handful of cavefolk who boo’d up? Holy dick! That’s not many at all!

So how different can I be from you – regardless of what lives in your pelvic beard?


That means that whether we’re acting like a salivating testosterone infused werewolves or educing our estrogen Legion demons and transforming into a shrew who thinks it’s cute to frisbee dinner plates at hubby and call him worthless, it all stems from the same violent intention seeds that grow different branches as they rise from the soil of illusion we fertilize with “I’m from mars; you’re from venus.”

And words – be they cruel banter or the phrase “rape culture” itself do carry power.

What does it mean for you? When I say “rape culture”, my first feeling is a churning in my belly at the first word – ‘cause rape’s not fun when it’s real and happening to you. My second thought is that “Oh, if it’s cultural – then I’m the victim – already”. Thing is, I’m not a victim. I wasn’t before I had the misfortune of being among those on the losing end of this violent act, and you know what? I’m still not a victim. I was victim-ized. Once. In that one moment. By one person. Does that mean everyone else has to Buffalo Bill their mooseknuckles or morph into Mr. Rogers around me? I hope not! Ideally – you be your authentic self to me – which is neither a condescending “let me hold the door for you, honey” nor “let me hold your boobs for you, honey”.

Unless you’re doing it to make me laugh – not be an asshole.

Then I’m all about the crude humor.


But, as we can’t control what people do, we can’t expect that. What we can control is what we do, though. Some might think I mean “don’t dress like you’re acting for it, slut”. I don’t. What I mean is that what we need to encourage is injecting the positive concept of compassion and non-violence in intention, words, and action alike – instead of finger wagging negatively at dingle owners and saying they have something to prove other than just, ya know, not being a douche. Just like us beaver bearers should be doing.

A solution means inviting new ways of looking at problems when current thinking fails.

Are we willing to invite the idea that the problem’s not rape culture?

That maybe it’s something larger – like violence culture? And that violence virus seeps through the cracks of all disparities we fabricate between ourselves – be they about race, religion, sex, whatever? To blame it on one thing like gender irreverence is like saying you just ate bad Chinese food when actually you’re throwing up in the throes of some thoroughgoing infection and then cursing Happy Family’s bourbon chicken instead of actually going to the doctor. You’ve gotta deal with the opportunistic pathogen infecting the whole body so you can heal instead of getting worse. By not taking care of our societal immune system against assholery, little organ systems shut off one by one – whether it was the gunman who opened fire at a college or some freshman at a frat house down the street who’d been roofied the night before. It’s all part of the same illness that takes us down slowly with it. And we exacerbate that societal virus by breeding ignorance-superbacteria after inundating ourselves with misconception-antibiotics we shouldn’t have been prescribed in the fcking first place.

Ultimately, the fallacy of thinking is that the one problem is a bunch of different sicknesses and that we’re all so different from one another. But the true rape culture here is a collective one. We’ve all had our spiritual hymens busted by the cultural cock that transmits with its seed the disease of separatism. So the sooner we stop separating ourselves into childish clubhouses of gender versus gender or creed versus creed, the sooner we can scrub up, grab our scalpels, and excise the violence necrosis.

And the neuroses it manifests too.