It's funny that Dave should invoke Kobe Bryant today, as I was dealing with some of the very issues that his case raises this morning at work. I help facilitate a program that trains students to be informed and supportive peer allies for survivors of sexual assault and relationship violence. Today we were training our university's Orientation Leaders, the fine folks who have signed on to spend their summer shepherding the incoming first-years through the two-day testing and
indoctrination re-education welcoming ritual required of all new students. Generally speaking I enjoy leading these workshops, but today's session was a little odd.
The students were exactly what you would expect from a group hand-picked by administrators to represent the institution: outgoing, engaged, talkative, opinionated, and thoroughly, scrupulously "normal." Typically the training attendees are a self-selected group of students who already have an interest in feminist/gender issues generally and interpersonal violence in particular. For this bunch, however, the training was mandatory, which meant we were starting from a very different place. This was readily apparent in both their reactions to the information we presented and the (many, many) questions they asked.
These kids learned a lot of what they "know" about sexual assault from Kobe and, more immediately (especially given our proximity), from the Duke lacrosse case. To say that they had deeply internalized and unexamined rape myths would be a huge understatement. Don't get me wrong: It was obvious that many of them took seriously the idea of being an ally and they wanted to learn how to be supportive. But it was equally clear that they were torn as to which was the bigger, more relevant, or scarier issue: the prevalence of sexual violence in our society (and on our campus) or the "epidemic" of false reporting.
That women routinely lie about being assaulted was an undercurrent that ran through all parts of our discussion. We talked about the legal definition of sexual assault, and it was apparent that several young men saw the law as a "trap" -- a maze of technicalities that could be exploited by vindictive women to "get them." We talked about reporting options and resources for survivors, and their reactions seemed to indicate a belief the legal and student judicial systems were titled in the favor of survivors. There was a palpable fear of men (the real "victims") being hauled into court or slapped with a no-contact order or kicked out of school. We talk about some scary stuff for sure; I guess my fears just lie elsewhere in this whole discussion. It's not like I don't know these attitudes exist, but this was still an eye-opening experience.
Media coverage of high-profile rape cases also has deeply ingrained the idea that a victim's credibility is always at issue. Our job in these trainings is to help participants be supportive, nonjudgemental listeners who can help steer their peers toward the appropriate campus resources. But the questions and scenarios that this group raised returned again and again to the issue of determining if the person who was hypothetically disclosing to them was telling the truth. Where's the proof, they wanted to know? How are we supposed to verify these stories? And how do administrators or authority figures determine the veracity of the stories they hear? How can they be sure that someone is not lying about being raped just to move to another dorm room on campus? How can they be sure that a stalking victim seeking a no-contact order against a fellow student is not just "out to get them?"
[What I find totally vexing about the whole idea of "proof" is that this concern only goes one way. They demand a certain standard of evidence, yet completely disregard empirical data that doesn't square with their worldview. We give them FBI statistics about the very low level of false reporting in rape cases. Their response: "I don't care what the statistics say; we all know that people (read: women) make stories up all the time." Where is the evidence to support this? On our campus last year there was
one reported case of sexual assault. ONE. Various campus agencies took 31 additional "blind reports" where a student disclosed an assault but did not wish to go on record or file charges. This is on a campus of more than 20,000 students. Where is this epidemic of lying and scheming? If women on this campus are "crying rape," they certainly aren't doing so with authorities. Where is the evidence? Where is the proof?]
One last thing that came up today, and which revisiting the Kobe case only underscored for me, is how much confusion there seems to be around the issue of consent. This is baffling to me. Is it really such a radical notion that sex should be consensual and that consent should be clear and explicit? In his settlement statement Kobe admits that he "now knows" that sex with his accuser was not consensual. Help me out here, someone:
Is it really that hard to tell whether or not you have consent? And if it's not clear, is it really that big a deal to clarify somehow?
I had a really sweet and earnest kid today who was clearly struggling with this. He got completely flustered and said to me, "It sounds like you're saying that unless you stop and ask permission for everything you do with someone in bed, it's rape," as if he were imagining that the law (or humorless, sex-hating feminists like myself) required both parties to sign a permission slip for every sex act. Do these people not communicate with their partners at all? Can they really not tell the difference? Or does this just get back to their fear that consent actually doesn't matter at all in a culture where women are just going to lie about it later?
And don't even get me started on the issue of alcohol and consent. When we alert them to the fact that state law stipulates that someone who is under the influence of alcohol or drugs can't legally give consent, they go ballistic. Which I guess is understandable, given that the hookup culture which predominates today's college social scene makes unplanned, often random, drunken encounters the norm. They really are not at all prepared to face, much less to assume responsibility for, how risky their behaviors actually are. What I find amazing is that the fear focuses not on the chance that alcohol introduces/heightens the risk that something might happen to someone against their will, but rather that alcohol might be used as "an excuse" to "get someone in trouble." (Again, not to minimize the potential damage that a false rape report might do to a young person and their reputation...but where is the data that backs up this fear? How many hundreds of drunken hookups happen every single weekend on our campus alone? And how many times has this resulted in a guy's life being "ruined" by morning-after regret? How many men on campus have been disciplined or expelled -- or even investigated or tried? Who is holding them accountable or making them "prove" their innocence? Where are the numbers to back this up?)
At any rate, today confirmed for me that Kobe is, indeed, a role model to young people. And they have thoroughly internalized the "lessons" that he has taught them about sex, rape, consent, and who is a "victim." Thanks, Kobe!
