I found this week's readings
challenging because they forced me to think about sexual assault in new
ways, and I found myself resistant to that. I've been a volunteer at
the University of Alberta's Sexual Assault Centre for the past year,
and at the Centre we maintain the position, both with clients and in
presentations and workshops, that there is a very clear difference
between consensual sex and nonconsensual sex. Catherine MacKinnon's
assertion that all heterosexual sex is coercive, just to different
degrees, feels threatening to that outlook because it creates this
amorphous grey area with no clear boundary between sex and sexual
assault. I don't want to blur that line any more than it already is.
(And no, that wasn't an intentional reference to Robin Thicke's much
overhyped and questionable hit of the summer, but it does illustrate
my point that we as a society don't need any more confusion in this
area.)
However, while MacKinnon's argument
makes me uneasy, I do somewhat understand her point. From my position
at the Sexual Assault Centre, finding the definitive line between sex
and sexual assault isn't so much my focus. My focus is supporting
anyone who reaches out, unconditionally and uncritically. I'm
supposed to tell them their feelings are valid (they always are) and
that it's not their fault (it never is). But from a legal standpoint,
clearly defining sexual assault and consent are of critical
importance. I also agree with MacKinnon that coercion is quite
prevalent in heterosexual sexual relations; for example, threatening
to break up with someone if they won't have sex; saying that everyone
else is doing it and there's something wrong with them; making them
feel guilty for not having sex; or simply asking so many times in a
row that the person feels there's no other way to stop them. There are so many coercive tactics that are used. However, unlike MacKinnon, I don't think
that all heterosexual sex is coercive. I think that women are free to
choose sex, on their own terms, without being coerced, and I think
that men are capable of respecting their partners.
In summary, it's been a challenging
week of reading. I think one of my major challenges of this class
will be to think about this issue in new ways, and to engage with
texts and ideas that seem at odds with what I have already learned
and believe.
Jill--
ReplyDeleteI had similar anxieties to you, and was also challenged in my understandings of sexual assault through this weeks readings:
While I can understand the faults in Brownmiller’s argument, I feel strongly attached to them. She makes a distinction between rape and sexual desire. According to her rape is solely an action of violence. It is, in part, through this distinction that she is able to unsettle rape as a crime somehow instigated by the sexual appeal of a victim, and rather relocates it as a structural problem. Cahill explains that, while the distinction between rape and sexuality is helpful for its political ends (making the personal political), it is not necessarily true; one cannot distinguish the sexual nature from the violence of sexual assault.
Acknowledging individually experienced violences as having structural grounding is something I try to do in my daily practices. Its the way through which I come to understand (and try to work against) almost all oppressions. For me, then, I cannot help but feel a strong desire to adhere to the strict division between sexuality and violence because of the way this ideological distinction allows us to engage in specific political goals. Thus, in the same way that you are feeling unsure about creating grey areas between non-consensual and consensual sex in terms of the way you support those who have experienced sexual assault, I feel unsure about eliminating the distinction between violence and sexuality because of the way I tend to think about systemic and insidious nature of sexual assault even though I understand the faults behind the distinction.