“Ultimately, we will honor Eve Carson by becoming the university that she envisioned when she talked about ‘the Carolina Way.’” -Chancellor Moeser

One in four women are sexually assaulted or experience an attempted assault.

This is a fact we know. We hear it from the administrators, we see the numbers, we nod at the statistic. So, why are we silent? Why do we nod? We drop our heads, feel sad, and say, “How can we help them?” Not, “How can we stop this?!”

On a recent Saturday afternoon, March 28, 2009, Dr. Dorothy Edwards from the University of Kentucky, impassioned, blazing with hope and vision, looked out at the audience of the Sexual Assault Summit in Lexington, Virginia, with a challenge and fight in her eyes and demanded, “How has this resignation come over our collective souls!?” How have we come to the point where we shake our heads and sigh, This is the way it is.

One in four! Can you swallow those numbers? I know I can’t. “One in four” is not the best we can do. This should not be the way it is. The best we can do is not even one in a hundred million. The best we can do is never. If we are to achieve excellence in all our endeavors, if we are to be the best university, to truly live up to our potential and to the Carolina way, we need to raise our voices. Open dialogue. Do away with the shame. We need to be honest about the bad things that are happening on our campus. We need to make it an issue that college aged women are four times more likely to be sexually assaulted. We need to have enough dignity and pride as a student body to stand up and say, “Here’s where we’re failing.” Here’s where we’re silent. Here’s where we’ve looked the other way. Let’s change. Sexual assault is something to be ashamed of—but not for the survivor to be ashamed of—we as a community need to be ashamed that we are resigned to its happening at all.

If that woman is your loved one, your sister, your daughter, your friend, you would not want to lean back as horrible things happen to them. No. If they are in harm’s way, you would want to turn to them, to the world that might hurt them and fight to prevent them from that hurt. But what happens when it is not our daughter, not our sister, not our friend—not even someone we can place a face on. One might say, “I’ve never met someone who has been through that, so it’s not my issue.” However, the truth is, you have met someone has been through it. She is the woman sitting next to you in class. She’s the wild one flirting at the party on Friday night. She’s the student cutting you in line at Lenoir or stopping to hold the door for you at the UL. She’s spilling coffee on the bus, reading the DTH in the pit, passing you on the quad.

Every day you come in contact with someone who has survived a sexual assault. Are you going to be a part of a culture that supports them and listens to their story?

Every day every person you come in contact with is the potential survivor of an assault. Are you going to let them get hurt?

We need to imagine the “one in four” is the person we love most in the world. Then, we will realize how we should be reacting to sexual assault. We cannot retreat, put our hands up in defense, and argue, “Oh, that’s not my problem.” If it happens to our sisters, our daughters, our friends, it is our problem.

Or are we going to empower the perpetrator?

Every time we say, “I’m not going to step in to make sure that wasted student is safe or ask if she needs a way to get home,” we are enabling the perpetrator.

So ask. Step in.

Every time we say, “I’m going to stay out of it,” we are enabling the perpetrator.

So ask. Step in.

Every time we say, “The unconscious woman on the couch is probably with a friend who’ll help her out,” we are enabling perpetrator.

So ask. Step in.

And when we doubt the story, question the experience, ask for proof, we are unconsciously encouraging survivors to stay silent. We are enabling the perpetrator.

Survivors can’t be the only ones fighting or trying to raise their voice. They need to know they are not alone. Courageous men, especially, need to speak up. We need to empower the good men by acknowledging that they are not in the minority. If they feel uncomfortable with porn, jokes that demean women, sexism, sexual assault, the “score” mentality of sex, jeering or catcalling women—they are in a majority. Yet, such behavior is so much a part of culture (there is so much pressure in society to behave that way) that men are not necessarily saying anything about it when it happens—even if they are uncomfortable with it—because they don’t want to be criticized or ostracized.

They must be motivated to change. Resist. Society is trying to sell us ideas of masculinity and femininity that we shouldn’t want to buy.

The reality is, once we get the information (the facts, the one in four) we must change. We are now accountable for it. The problem is that people simply avoid consciousness of an issue in order to keep themselves from being held accountable for it. We don’t want to say that sexual assault happens to us, for if we do, we are responsible for the fact that it happens.

Yes. We are responsible for the fact that it happens. Men and women. Every day. And the only way we can respond to that responsibility is to act on it. Refrain from the behavior that enables sexism. Stand up when the talk around you makes you uncomfortable. Tell your friends that you disagree with their jokes or vocabulary. Even when we use words like “bitches” and “hoes,” we are enabling a culture that says it’s ok to demean and degrade women. That culture is the culture that enables sexual assault.

So say something. Step in. Otherwise you are empowering the rapist. Can you live with that?

We must say, this is a problem. Our campus is not fine. We do have that problem here. We need to rise to the bar that we hope other people will rise to in the case of our loved one; we need to create the culture change, the epidemic that spreads from individual to individual. Each person can choose to make an active and visible stand in their everyday life.

I’m not going to say what you have to do in particular. This isn’t mandated. This is simply a question of ethics, of right and wrong, of respect.

I just want you to do something.

Begin.

Ask the wasted woman at the party if she needs help getting home. Don’t laugh at the sexist joke. Stop calling your best friend a “whore,” because you think it’s cute. For when we begin to say, “We’re not ok with this,” we are allowing people to see that we want to create a safe place. A place where sexual assault is not happening to one in four women, a place where survivors feel wholly and completely validated and supported and are not afraid to speak, not afraid to say, “This happened, and it was wrong.” No one should have to go through the trauma of an assault. No one should feel that empty and violated and destroyed. This is wrong, and we cannot be resigned.

http://speakoutunc.blogspot.com/

NOTE: Project Dinah is obviously amazing and doing so much to make changes. Can the ENTIRE university care?

Posted by Carolin F.

No, the main reason it makes some people uncomfortable is that it demands our total commitment to the cause and it isn’t big on excuses.  Not only are we expected to challenge the status quo, but we must remain ever critical of our own perspective in order to (excuse the cliché) become the change we wish to see.  This revolution starts with us.

According to Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards, the third wave (which refers to the late ‘80s up to the present) is not about following a certain feminist rulebook or even venerating a younger, hipper Gloria Steinem-equivalent (though they themselves certainly fit the bill); instead, it is about listening to our inner-voice, remaining true to ourselves and to our choices, and taking full responsibility for our actions.

Admittedly, this is not always easy.  In their talk at the Hanes Art Center on Tuesday night, Baumgardner explained the discomfort many people—not just feminists—feel when asked to assume total responsibility for their lives.

“The decision to either bring a life into this world or not bring a life into this world – that’s huge,” says Baumgardner, who is also the creator of the I Had an Abortion project and author of Abortion & Life (Akashic Books, 2008).  While she certainly does not suggest that women would prefer to have their reproductive options limited, what she does mean is that the weight of our choices can often be overwhelming.

Though most feminists would gladly accept the label pro-choice, Baumgardner and Richards suggest that the word choice can often serve to water down the values of feminism.  Instead, they argue that we should accept and engage with the complexities of a variety of issues, as opposed to blindly following one immutable philosophy.  Rather than resisting what can seem like contradictory stances—like whether a bikini wax is sexually liberating or sexually oppressive, for instance—we should focus on broadening our dialogue and continuing to challenge the way we think about feminism.

Perhaps the most moving part of the talk was when Richards shared a story of meeting a civil rights activist whose words of wisdom for her were to “believe it.”  After some clarification, she came to understand what this meant for women: That we must believe we are worth the fight.  In a culture where we are brainwashed to believe that “We’re worth it” mainly in terms of external appearances, the third wave offers us an alternative vision:  That our value—as women, as feminists, and as human beings—does not depend on the size of our waists, the color of our skin, or the length of our pubic hair.

And for us all to truly believe that would indeed be revolutionary.

Last night continued the dialogue we are hoping to nurture about feminism’s meaning and future. Third wave activists Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards gave their take on what third wave feminism means, what they think makes it unique, and how it continues or diverges from previous feminist movements. Their analysis, largely based on the work they did together in Manifesta and Grassroots (among other projects), was rooted in their personal experiences developing and negotiating a feminist consciousness.

They also addressed the conflicts and contradictions they think prevent young women today from self-identifying as feminists. Their talk was followed by an extensive Q&A period, which offered the audience a change to probe, challenge, and otherwise engage with Baumgardner and Richards’ ideas. Overall, it felt like a really engaging and productive discussion!

UPDATE2: The M@C rape culture discussion is still on for today at 4 in Dey 305.

Did you see today’s DTH editorial supporting Project Dinah in their funding battle with Student Congress? The editors give a shout out to The F-word/Women’s Week, which is great. But more importantly, they remind the campus of the important work Project Dinah does every day to make this a safer campus.

How can you support Project Dinah, participate in violence prevention efforts, and help change the campus climate? Glad you asked! Tonight is the annual Take Back the Night event. The program begins with inspiring words from Tanisha Bagley and performances by Cadence A Capella and other campus groups at 5:30 pm at the steps of Wilson Library. A march around campus follows, ending at the Pit, where this year’s SpeakOut! Against Sexual Assault begins at 8 pm. Don’t miss this powerful event that gives voice to survivors and their experiences!

Before you head out to Wilson Library, please consider stopping by another important program that promises to be a thoughtful and productive prologue to this evening’s events. Members of the Men@Carolina living-learning community are hosting a panel discussion on rape culture at 4 pm in Dey 305. Hope to see you there!

Powerful spoken word from EROT and Feminist Students United!

The board, day one (prior to the unfortunate incident). There are already some good conversations happening there and I am looking forward to seeing what else happens in this space. I’ll post some of the comments we’ve gotten so far tomorrow.

Three amazing women, Annie Clark, Aimee Krans, and Dr. Etta Pisano, were honored by the Chancellor at the University Awards for the Advancement of Women ceremony. Our Student Art Show opened in the Union lower gallery. And about 30 students attended the Professional Women’s Dinner.

Oh yeah, and we also made the DTH. (No, not the paper–just the online edition, but that’s okay.)

We’re off to a great start!

Third wave feminist activists Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards will present a talk titled, “Can I be a feminist and still…?” The two co-authored  Manifesta: Young Women, Feminism, and the Future and Grassroots: A Field Guide to Feminist Activism and have been featured on Oprah, NPR, and have lectured in hundreds of venues around the world.

Amy Richards is the co-founder of the Third Wave Foundation, the author of Opting In: Having A Child Without Losing Yourself, and has written for the LA Times, the New York Times Sunday Magazine, and The Nation, among other venues.

Jennifer Baumgardner is the author of Look Both Ways: Bisexual Politics and Abortion & Life. She is the creator of the I Was Raped project, producer of the film I Had an Abortion, and has written for Glamour, The Nation, Real Simple, Redbook, NPR’s All Things Considered and Elle.

Tonight’s talk will discuss the history of feminism and ask what it means to be a feminist today, four decades into a vibrant movement that changed the world and raised expectations for men and women alike.

Don’t miss Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards TONIGHT t 7 pm in the Hanes Art Center auditorium!

Returning at the end of the day to bring the panels in for the night, my colleague and I spied two young men, presumably undergraduates, gazing at the comments. We were in the Union vestibule, so the men didn’t see us. They were laughing and pointing at the messages, and then one of them picked up a pen. I sensed trouble, but wanted to assume best intentions.

To someone’s post of “vagina = victory,” he wrote: “penetrating a →” with an arrow pointing directly to the “vagina.” I was seething. I couldn’t see straight I was so mad. Without thinking, I dashed outside, shouting “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

I approached him and began chastising him, adopting what could only be considered my “I’m going to lecture to you now” voice. Sheepishly, he immediately apologized and admitted his guilt. But that wasn’t enough for me.

“This is incredibly offensive and demeaning to women,” I yelled. He nodded, but I kept pushing. “Do you know why it’s so offensive?” His response: because it makes fun of feminism. “And what is feminism,” I pressed. He had a definition: equal rights for women. I invited him to write that on the board, but he refused, as he scratched out his initial comment.

He tried to justify his behavior: if it had been a board about some other important issue, he probably would have written something equally stupid and thoughtless. Oh great, an equal-opportunity bigot!

He and his friend walked away. I’d like to think they were visibly shaken. I know I am still shaking. I walked away still angry, but also ambivalent.

I felt guilty for yelling at him, for being a “shrill” feminist incapable of taking a “joke” (what kind of joke is it when a woman is turned into an object and violently acted upon?). But at the same time, I felt proud and strong. I’m sick of remaining quiet. Of not saying something when I hear something offensive, something degrading, something that serves to silence me or other women. I’d like to think I turned this into a teaching moment for all of us. Maybe next time he’ll think before he writes something like that. Maybe next time he won’t write it at all. Maybe next time he’ll think about the consequences of his actions. Maybe next time he won’t objectify and degrade women.

A great start to the week, indeed…

(The panels will be out every day this week. Please add to our conversation by sharing your thoughts on feminism.)

Buck’s talk is titled, “Navigating Through and Driving Growth During These Tough Economic Times” — a timely topic given the campus, state, national and global financial situation. Buck earned her MBA here at Carolina and built an impressive resume with senior management positions at Kraft Food Confections before joining Hershey.  In addition to her professional achievements, Buck’s commitment to social justice has included work as an on-call rape-crisis counselor and volunteer stints with the Junior Achievement organization.

While major corporations have made some progress in the last decades in their representation of women in management and senior leadership ranks, the 2009 Catalyst Census reports that:

In 2008, women held 15.7 percent of corporate officer positions at Fortune 500 companies; in 2007, this number was 15.4 percent. Women held 6.2 percent of top earner positions; in 2007, this number was 6.7 percent. The number of companies with no women corporate officers increased from 74 in 2007 to 75 in 2008. The number of companies with three or more women corporate officers also increased from 203 in 2007 to 206 in 2008.

Can we really consider this adequate progress?  75 women corporate officers throughout ALL the Fortune 500 companies?  Overwhelming reliable and consistent evidence links the increase of women in management positions with increased corporate profitability.  Why, in the face of this evidence, would businesses continue to deny access and advancement to white women and women of color?

Catalyst suggests that business systems and practices — including overt discrimination, sexism and racism, the operation of unconscious gender bias and gender schemas, and limited advancement opportunities based on gender — continue to operate in ways that disadvantage white women and women of color. One other reason cited for the glaring gender disparity in corporate employment is the lack of female role models.

Join us for a unique opportunity to hear from one of Carolina’s own impressive role models on Tuesday, March 24, 2009, at 5:30 p.m. in Koury Auditorium at the Kenan-Flagler Business School.  A reception follows in the Kenan Dining Room.  For more information, see: https://www.alumniconnections.com/olc/pub/UBS/events/UBS2214676.html

A closer look at this line of reasoning reveals some false assumptions and vagaries in my reluctance to claim or deserve the word “feminist.” In other words, perhaps I’m being too hard on myself. Acts of advocacy, as a friend pointed out, can be as small as an interaction at the grocery story or as large as, say, drafting legislation. The important thing is any action that brings about some narrowing of the gaps that constitute unequal opportunity.

I’m reminded of David Foster Wallace’s 2005 commencement speech to Kenyon College, and his example of the grocery store (“the store’s hideously, fluorescently lit, and infused with soul-killing Muzak or corporate pop, and it’s pretty much the last place you want to be, but you can’t just get in and quickly out: you have to wander all over the huge, overlit store’s crowded aisles to find the stuff you want, and you have to manoeuvre your junky cart through all these other tired, hurried people with carts, and of course there are also the glacially slow old people and the spacey people and the kids who all block the aisle and you have to grit your teeth and try to be polite as you ask them to let you by”). In such a situation, rather than tearing my hair out, I can choose or attempt advocacy. Advocacy exists not just in the big situations like cutting the ribbon on the women’s center that I fundraised to build, but in line at Harris Teeter as well. A basic awareness of other people’s rights, the advantages and disadvantages awarded to them by no fault or right of their own, makes me a feminist. Because when I am aware of the inequalities of everyday experience (that are arguably the most ubiquitous and real factors of my adult life) such awareness instigates a line of action. And the scope or likelihood of these actions occurring is contingent on my ability to just pay attention. So in my ever-evolving struggle to come to terms with my own relationship to the word “feminist,” I gain a greater consciousness of advocacy’s imperative, and all the little and large inequalities and all the little and large ways I can help.

So well-meaning, never intending to hurt anyone’s feelings, he is truly a good person.  However, earlier today I was trying to explain to him why it kind of gives me the creeps when he calls me “girl.”  Although he heard me out, he couldn’t quite understand how it’s fine for me to use the term among my friends, but for him to use it is somehow problematic.

“Isn’t this about reclaiming words that were previously oppressive and giving them new meaning?”  he asked.

I tried to explain that it’s usually the people who are oppressed who get to do this, not the ones who reap the benefits of that oppression.  At this point, I could see I was losing him.  When I started to talk about systems of oppression, institutional discrimination, and historical/ cultural structures of domination and subjugation, he was pretty much gone.  Right there (before my eyes!) I watched him disengage from the conversation, become completely defensive, and in a desperate attempt to protect the unearned privileged that, at that moment, seemed to define the very essence of his being, begin to argue with me.  Argue with me about the reality of my experience!  As if my oppression as a woman couldn’t possibly exist in that isolated incident because he wasn’t intending it to be so.  He wasn’t sexist, so how could this situation be considered sexist?  It was at that point that I essentially gave up.

In retrospect, I have to ask myself: What was it about this conversation that was so threatening to my boyfriend’s existence that he couldn’t even consider my perspective?  It definitely isn’t simple, but I think it comes down to a couple of main reasons.  For one, he doesn’t like to admit when he doesn’t know something.  Maybe this is partly a consequence of being a man, but I hate to make such sweeping generalizations.  Instead, I think it’s safe to say that since he’s never read feminist theory, taken a Women’s/ Gender Studies class, or engaged in any kind of critical thinking regarding these issues, discussions of this sort throw him completely outside of his comfort zone.

On a deeper level, though, I think this dichotomy between knowing and not knowing is often at the core of these types of arguments.  What it means to know oppression is very different from what it means to understand it.  In my opinion, knowing it means living it.  In some way, whether based on your gender, race, sexual orientation, class, whatever, some of us have experienced marginalization.  There is a definite gap between this lived reality and the academic process whereby we learn about patriarchy, White supremacy, heteronormativity, etc.  In other words, my boyfriend’s lived experience as a middle-class, straight, White, (biological) male does not make these concepts real for him.   That is, in part, the way privilege works.

The question I’m left with is: How can we engage in conversations about these issues with people who cannot truly know, or who simply don’t “get it”?  My boyfriend’s suggestion was that we move away from an “us” versus “them” (oppressors vs. oppressed) mentality and instead try to approach people as part of a larger whole.  While I can certainly see where he’s coming from in terms of working to decrease the defensiveness of privileged groups, it seems dangerously close to the mentality that we should be (or are!) living in a post-racial/ post-feminist/ post-modern (post-rational?) world.  This type of thinking not only delegitimizes the experiences of marginalized groups, but it serves as a way to distract from and essentially give up on the pressing concerns of social justice activism.

So, my question to you (whoever’s out there!) is: What are your suggestions for addressing this issue?  I’d love to hear what you have to say!