Sad Side to Feminism

Today is one of those days when the feminist in me is experiencing a lot of sadness. I can tell you, it is very difficult to have conversations with people who believe that sexual assault is partly the woman's fault. It is difficult for me to hear someone go off about the victim, never knowing that in a room of 5 girls, at least 1 of the women present probably is a victim. It is difficult for me to hear people I consider intelligent show complete ignorance and refusal to learn over issues like consent, sexual assault and rape culture. It is difficult for me to hear men talk about abortion when they'll never know what it's like to experience pregnancy. It is difficult for me to think of the women who are just dying inside because they don't have a support system or a person to lean on or a friend to cry to.

I go to the comment sections on feminist posts and it makes me reel. People are saying things like: "If you're a feminist you're pretty fucking stupid", "real men don't accept no" and "Stick with your kitchen job woman! You are lucky to get out of the house" (links where those comments are posted below:  http://9gag.com/gag/av0nrEW, http://9gag.com/gag/a8W44VV). I wonder why people feel okay saying such hurtful things, why some men are fucking animals to women they don't even know, or to women that they do know, why human decency is no longer something you can assume everyone has. I wonder why some women are pushing others down to feel bigger, when in reality they're just dragging themselves down as well. Why degrading language about women is so prevalent, and no one seems to protest. Why a man would think that sexual assault is a women's issue, when 97% of aggressors of sexual assault are men.

Today is a day where I'm thinking about the justice system, and how few sexual assaults are convicted. How most women are suffering in silence, too scared or ashamed to come forward. But then why would they, when our system isn't designed to believe the victim? When the system turns the survivors of sexual assaults into witnesses to the crime committed against their own body. The sexual assault is seen as an offence against the crown, not the woman made of flesh and blood standing in front of them.

Today is a day when I wonder how many more Rehtaehs there are out there. The only reason her story came forward is because she killed herself; that's what it took for the media and law enforcement to care about a girl who was raped at a party and then harassed for two years. How many more girls in high school and middle school are suffering through the humiliations that Rehtaeh dealt with, wondering if there is any reason to hold onto the ounce of hope they have left?

I ask myself on days like today why everyone, (not just every woman), isn't trying to right these wrongs. For men, it's happening to their sisters, their girlfriends, their mothers and friends. It's not just happening to women that you think "deserve it". I look at my beautiful younger cousins, all 6 of them these gorgeous tall creatures with so much life inside of them, and worry myself sick that someone will rob them of that light. I know the statistics, I know the world they're growing up in, I know about the lack of education on consent. I know what they're facing, and I hold my breath for them, fingers crossed, hoping they make it out alive, and I try to forget the "1 out of 5" statistic.

On days like today, I have to remember the women I've helped on the Sexual Assault Crisis Line. I have to remember the friends who felt safe enough with me to tell me their stories. I have to remember the internal drive that I have to protect as many women as possible, to educate as many people as possible, to prevent as many sexual assaults as possible. On days like today I have to believe that even if only one person reads my blog, I could be making a difference. That even if only one out of one hundred women I speak to feels more empowered, I am helping that one person.

That this fight is one I can win, that women can win.

On days like today.