EthicalHedonist's Open Salon Blog

Blaming the victim

Thu, 4 Mar 2010 09:03:28 -0500

You know what? I haven't been really, truly good and angry in a while. So imagine my relief when I read this:

Blame the victim: Religious leaflet claims 'ungodly' dressed women provoke rape

I just... no. You know what? Let's try a few thought experiments here.

Experiment 1

There is a dark alley. A woman wearing a dress that covers her entire body is walking along the alley and is attacked and raped. Whose fault is it? Is it the woman's fault for having the audacity to walk somewhere without a male escort, or is it the rapist's fault for raping her?

Now just keep that in mind, while we move to...

Experiment 2

There is a dark alley. A woman wearing a Jackie O Chanel suit is walking along the alley and is attacked and raped. Whose fault is it? Is it the woman's fault for wearing a miniskirt that exposes her sexy, sexy calves, or is it the rapist's fault for RAPING HER?

The difference between experiments 1 and 2 is the way the woman is dressed. And I think we can say that any man who can't keep control of himself at the sight of sexy legs is mentally ill and a threat to society.

Experiment 3

There is a dark alley. A woman wearing a halter top with a bare midriff, short shorts, and go-go boots is walking along the alley and is attacked and raped. Whose fault is it? Is it the woman's fault for wearing such a revealing outfit, or is it the rapist's fault for, oh let's see, RAPING! HER!

The only practical difference between experiments 2 and 3 is the level of exposure. Yes, she is revealing more, but to say that any part of what happened to her is her fault is basically saying that a man capable of rape can be excused for raping because he was tempted too much.

The thing is, when a serial killer with a preference for blondes murders a blonde woman out for a jog, do we blame the woman for being blonde? No. We blame the killer because he is mentally disturbed. Likewise, if a rapist with a preference for ladies in Jackie O suits rapes a lady in a Jackie O suit, we do not blame the victim. We blame the rapist, because he raped.

This quote from the pamphlet in the article is a perfect example of blaming the victim:

...some rape victims would not have been raped if they had dressed properly...

So I suppose that had this elderly woman not worn her sexy, sexy nightgown while asleep in her own bed, she wouldn't have been raped? There seems to be an assumption on the parts of those who blame the victim that rape only happens to young, pretty girls who have somehow gone astray. They never seem to consider that rape happens to elderly women and even tiny children as well.

Rape is a terrible crime committed by disturbed individuals. Claiming that a woman brings it on herself completely ignores that and excuses the rapist by saying that he just couldn't help himself.

My most perfect union

Mon, 1 Mar 2010 09:03:39 -0500

I'm waiting in the arrivals lounge at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. It's just after eight in the morning, and the light streaming through the atrium gives the building a feeling of energy strangely unmatched by any of the people in it. I appear to be watching the floor, white tile speckled with black detritus from countless feet that have walked here before, but I'm actually watching the tops of the escalators for Matt's face. Any minute now, just be patient. Occasionally, I turn around to look at the arrival monitors. His flight supposedly hasn't landed yet, but still I hope that he'll be among the next batch of people coming up from the belly of the airport to see the light of this brand new day. I see a woman – tall, athletic, blonde hair, blue eyes – hugging what looks to be her younger sister as if they hadn't seen each other in ages. I see another young woman greet a much older man that I can only assume is her father. He is in a wheelchair, but the spark in his eye when he sees his daughter is unmistakable. There is a woman next to me wearing way too much perfume. It's very distracting and I can't help but notice that she's reading a Danielle Steel novel that's been much abused. And the girl behind her in the tube top must be her daughter. I notice that she is wearing too much lipstick.

I see a man in an Army uniform come off the escalator. His daughter races from behind the yellow line; he hoists her to him and puts his arms around her tight. I assume that this is the first time they have seen each other in years. The girl is crying; her father is crying; her grandmother and the USO people are crying. I'm holding back my own tears. I know exactly how you feel, little one. The night before he left for duty, he told her he would be home soon. Every time he called home, she asked him when he'd be coming back. Every night for the last month, she couldn't sleep because she knew that tomorrow would be one day closer to the day he would hold her close again. He's still in uniform. Somehow I doubt this is a discharge. He has to go back again soon and he knows this. No, David, no, no sad thoughts right now. You need to stay happy right now.

I turn away to give this family some much needed privacy and concentrate on the arrivals board. It's twenty after the hour and Matt's plane will be arriving any second. When the line for his flight starts blinking, I feel like my heart can finally start beating again. He's here. He appears on the escalator a scant five minutes later, and everything else in the universe suddenly ceases to exist. There is no floor, there are no USO people, there is no lady standing next to me with too much perfume; there is only Matt. I push through people to get to the front of the cordoned-off waiting area, and he finally sees me and starts coming toward me. We hug for a moment and share a kiss that is all too brief – after all, we are in public. I let the taste of his mouthwash linger on my lips for a few seconds before we begin our trek to leave the airport.

We're driving now, on our way to the trendy Midtown hotel he has reserved for our weekend together. I see the road winding away ahead of me, but I'm only halfway paying attention. I've driven these streets for years and I know where I'm going – all I care about is him. I listen to him describe his job and how much he has missed me since we last saw each other. I can tell that he has been anticipating this weekend for a long time, but he also seems distant somehow, like perhaps there's something he isn't telling me. No, that can't be it. Or maybe that's exactly it: he doesn't want to wait for you any longer. No, better: he has met someone else, and he's leaving you for him. No, even better than that: he just doesn't like you anymore, and he's dumping you. I let the bad thoughts melt away in the warm light that glints off the Atlanta skyline. Of course he wants to be with me – he flew here to spend the weekend with me.

As the morning light gives way to a late spring afternoon, we find ourselves in a museum exhibition devoted to the human body. A vast complex of the macabre sprawls out around us, complete with blood, guts, muscle fibers, and grotesquely modified human faces left uncovered by some arcane scientific process that endlessly fascinates us. "But how did he get that polymer inside all the tiny veins without rupturing them," I wonder aloud. Matt doesn't know, but he's just as intrigued as I am.

He calls me over to look at an exposed nervous system. I have trouble imagining all of those white fibers running through my body, connecting all of my bits with all of my other bits. Matt says he's never even thought about his own body like this, with all of the parts on display for everyone to see. I use this opportunity to make an indecent remark about wanting to see him exposed and on display for me to see and he chuckles. I grab his hand for a while as we walk through the exhibit. I think about that exposed nervous system and imagine my fingers touching his and the electrical impulses travelling from my fingers, up my arm, through the bundle of nerves at the shoulder, on through the nervous system's superhighway at the base of the neck, and into my brain. I realize that he's feeling the same impulses I'm feeling. As I squeeze his hand and smile to myself as I imagine electrons flowing from my brain into his, I wonder if his thoughts are anything like mine.

It's later at night now, the late spring sun having just faded into a murky darkness that does not betray the presence of stars. The halo of the city lights still slouches at the edges of the darkness, a constant reminder that we've hit the big time here, even if it's only for the weekend. We are sitting in our hotel room, eating delivered Pad Thai together while the television endlessly babbles on about things unimportant. Matt seems nervous. He isn't saying much, and he's eating less. I have long since ceased being worried, but I am wracking my brain trying to figure out what is making him so nervous.

"Sweetie, I have a surprise for you." The words come out of nowhere; Matt has been so quiet all night that at first I didn't realize it was him. "Close your eyes." I do so and feel very uncomfortable. I hear him rustling with something in the other room before he comes back. I'm sitting on the couch, so it is strange to hear him in front of me.

"Honey, we've been together for a while now. And I know it's been difficult being apart like we've been, but I love you and I know you love me. So let's make it official."

Stunned, I open my eyes. He is before me on one knee, a box containing a silver and orange ring in his outstretched palm. I am shocked, speechless. He is visibly shaking and probably near tears. I try to summon the words and fail the first time, but I finally manage to choke the words out of my quavering throat. "Yes, honey, yes, yes." I am stammering, but neither of us cares. He puts the ring on my finger and I ask him where his is. He tells me that he only bought one, apparently in case I said no. That way he would not have to buy a second one for himself if he didn't have to. I hooked a smart one here. I hold him close for the next few minutes and I realize that this may be the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

It's two in the morning. Matt is asleep on the bed next to me as I listen to the sound of cars on the streets below. I hear his deep, slumbering breaths and feel the warmth of his body. I can't sleep. I can't quite put my thoughts together in any kind of a coherent way. Of all the men in the entire world, he chose me. I guess you did it. He does love you after all. Now don't fuck it up. I turn on my side and face his back. I put my arm around his midsection and I feel at peace with the world for the first time in ages. Of course, you do know this means nothing. It's not like you can get married here anyway. All in due time, little voice, all in due time. For right now I am going to go to sleep next to the man I love. We don't have to live by their rules. When the end of the universe comes and everything that is and ever has been finally ceases to exist, our love will continue to endure forever and ever, amen. They can't take that away from us no matter how hard they try.

Someday we'll make it official.

Author's Note: I originally wrote this essay for a school assignment, but I decided to publish it here as well in the hopes that my story, along with countless others like it, is not lost in the battle for same-sex marriage. We can talk about the rights and responsibilities of marriage all we want, but that is not what marriage is really about. Matt did not propose to me because he wanted tax benefits; Matt proposed because he loves me and wants to be with me til death do us part. Marriage is about stability and love, and we are just as deserving of those things as anyone else.

Where my loyalties lie

Sun, 7 Feb 2010 12:02:01 -0500

There have been about a billion things I've wanted to post about here in the last month, but the realities of a full-time job and a full-time course load at school have made that impossible. I have a bunch of posts stored up that I add to from time to time, but I'm not releasing anything until it's up to my standards.

So for now, I'll have to settle with a quick post about the Super Bowl. I'm only a casual football fan, but for some reason the Super Bowl is one of the highlights of my year. I go to a yearly party with my friends where about ten percent of us are interested in the game and the other ninety percent are interested in the commercials; even with me firmly in that ten percent I have a good time.

Of course, the problem with being only a casual fan is that I don't have the deeply entrenched web of loyalties of the hardcore fans - I don't care what school the quarterback is from, etc. So when it comes time to pick who to root for, I fall back on softer, more casual criteria. What cities do I like the best? How have the teams been performing? I will admit that I usually pick the AFC team over the NFC team, but that's only because AFC teams tend to be better. I also tend to like rooting for teams from Southern cities, mostly because football games are about the only time I feel like displaying any southern pride. All things considered, football is about the most integrated institution the south has to offer...

This year, I have to choose between the Colts, a team that has been genuinely good since I can remember, and the Saints, which was a questionable team at best five years ago, but which has recently become a force to be reckoned with. As many journalists have noted, this upward streak has a parallel in the story of New Orleans itself, and the Saints are emblematic of the hopes and dreams of the entire city.

So tonight I'll be drinking plenty of alcohol and shouting "WHO DAT?" along with all of my fellow Saints fans, watching the Saints hopefully score a victory. The halftime show is probably going to be yet another bastion of awfulness that we've come to expect since the FCC killed everything good about the Super Bowl halftime show in 2003. The Tim Tebow ad is going to kill my buzz and make me want to drink more. But I know that I am going to see a probably very epic game, and I may see a city's dream fulfilled.

And who could ask for more than that?

An atheist's morality

Tue, 9 Mar 2010 12:03:39 -0500

"So what's the point of doing good, if you don't think there are ultimate consequences for what you do? I mean, where does your motivation to do good come from if you don't believe in hell?"

This was a question my best friend recently asked me. He is a very liberal Christian, and we see eye-to-eye on many things, but this question just floored me when he asked it. Of course there are consequences for what I do. They are borne out by reactions from the people around me and how I affect their lives. They are borne out by how the law decides to sanction me for my negative actions. And they are borne out by how I feel about myself and my place in society.

This approach to actions and consequences has one very important result: there is no guarantee that I will receive punishment for any bad acts I may commit. If I commit a murder, and nobody finds out, I escape the external consequences, and assuming I had no internal conflict with the taking of a life, I get off scot-free. Likewise, if I live a good life, but nobody notices, I do not get any kind of a reward. This idea is very uncomfortable for many, and I believe that this discomfort led our ancestors to invent the idea of eternal punishment and eternal reward. It makes it somehow easier to comprehend the universe if we can assume that all bad actions are eventually punished, and that conversely, all good actions are eventually rewarded. However, I am a realist, and I know there is no guarantee of punishment or reward; therefore, I do good acts because they are the right things to do, and I don't do bad acts because they are the wrong things to do. I do not fear punishment for my actions; I fear the possible bad effects of my actions. In my non-belief-based morality then, my ethics are based on something real rather than something imagined.

There seems to be an assumption on the part of most religious people that there can't be any morality without a belief in a god. A typical argument goes that humankind gets its morality from God; after all, animals certainly don't show any morality, and after all, didn't God give us the spark that made us different from animals?

Of course, as an atheist, I don't believe in God, so I reject the unproven hypothesis that we are different from animals. (For proof that we are no different from animals, visit Walmart on Black Friday.) However, it does seem clear that we have a moral and ethical code that is not present in other animals. I personally believe that most of this "additional" ethical code comes from the simple fact that we are sapient creatures with the ability to derive complex answers from simple questions; indeed, I would say that the reason I am able to write this post about my own morality is the exact same reason I have that morality in the first place.

I personally have a desire to do good, and I do so because I believe it makes society better when people do good. It's a simplistic view of things, to be sure, but it is an ethical ideal that does not rely on religion or belief in any way. My moral code is based on the idea that it is a good thing to increase pleasure; the more people's pleasure I can increase with a given action, the better that action is. Again, it is a simple ideal, but it does not require a belief in anything, and in addition, it is directly tied to the idea of improving the human condition. Religious morality, on the other hand, is tied to the idea of stroking the ego of a god, which the religious tend to defend by asserting that such stroking occasionally produces a good effect on humanity. (See the ridiculous defense of the Catholic Church in the face of the pedophilia scandal by defending their history of charity to the poor, as if it somehow softens the damage to the lives of countless children.)

I'm not going to make the same assertion that many of my fellow atheists make, that religiously-based morality is somehow worse than a humanist morality because it is based on fear. While I think this argument holds some water, I know a number of religious people with a sincere desire to do good for all people, and fear doesn't prompt them to behave badly just to please their God. But I can also turn the tables and point to religious people — church leaders, even — whose moral code can best be described as compromised, so it would stand to reason that while fear-based morality doesn't automatically make someone bad, it certainly does not automatically make someone good, either.

I guess my central point is that religion and morality seem to be two completely separate things. There are religious people whose morals are above reproach, and there are religious people whose religious belief turns them into monsters. There are atheists who are wonderful people with an unshakable ethical code, and there are atheists who are terrible people. Religious belief can influence morality, but we are all ultimately responsible for our own actions.

So as an atheist, it is my responsibility to choose my own path in life. I have personally chosen a moral and ethical code that I think does the least damage and the most good for everyone, and I think I can live with that.

Celibate, Silent... or Dead?

Fri, 8 Jan 2010 09:01:38 -0500

When I was about 15 years old, I became a Christian. I was on fire, with a passion for the Lord and a zeal for learning about my newfound faith. I was in my church's youth choir (even becoming a section leader at one point), and I took the advanced apologetics classes they offered to lay church members. I had an idea that I would someday be a minister, spreading God's love to everyone I met, bringing joy to distant corners of the earth through my works. The only problem was that I am very, very gay. I've known since I was young, and I knew it when I was born again. I didn't find much of a problem with it; even though my church was rather conservative, I was rather liberal and so didn't find anything wrong with believing the Bible was faulty at times, plus I believed firmly in the concept that the New Covenant replaced the Old Covenant and those laws were no longer important to us.

So I proceeded to be the Best Christian Ever, loving all I came in contact with and being an obedient servant to the Lord My God, but it all came crashing down the spring I turned 18. My youth choir was going on a trip to Panama City, and my dad and I thought it would be prudent to inform my choir director about my orientation, as she would be the one in charge of us. We told her, and she was fine with it. But she informed the church's music director, and he informed the head pastor, and the next day we received a call from the head pastor, who told us that if I were to remain in his congregation, I would have to remain "celibate and silent." In addition, he was going to start preaching against homosexuality in services. I was mortified. We thought it best that I quit the church right then and there, but I went to one more service. At that service the pastor took me aside and started talking about making me whole again with Jesus, and that he knew of some ministries that could change me. I told him that I didn't want that, and he told me that as long as I was in his congregation it was unacceptable for me to continue to have these feelings and that if I wasn't willing to cooperate I wouldn't be allowed to participate in youth activities any more. I could read the writing on the wall, and I told him right there that I would not be coming back and that he would have no further problem from me.

That happened almost ten years ago, and I have since lost my faith entirely, but the incident still weighs heavily on me. I've come to realize that what happened to me was an example of a growing trend of conservative Christian xenophobia. This xenophobia is not directed towards people of different races, but towards non-Christians, and occasionally even Christians who think differently than they do. People who are not Christian are sinners; Christians must be protected from sin; therefore we must get rid of the people who are not Christian. The preferred way to get rid of them seems to be to convert them, but it's starting to look more and more like some in the religious right are starting to acknowledge that not everyone can be converted. And the question this raised for me was: what happens to those people?

Uganda's "Kill the Gays" bill seems to provide a rather extreme answer to that question. If you insist on being a sinner, we'll throw you in jail, and we'll kill you if you do a whole lot or in a particularly egregious way. It's a pretty simple concept and most of us in the west (especially non-Christians) are horrified by it. Christians are quick to distance themselves from the legislation, saying that it is an un-Christian solution to the problem, and to be fair, most Christians, even the homophobic ones, are genuinely opposed to the outright slaughter of gays. But I'm fascinated by the amount of backpedaling and doublespeak from the evangelical leaders whose sermons set the ball in motion for this utterly shameful piece of legislation. People like Scott Lively who campaign tirelessly against "the homosexual agenda" and fight to get GLBT people banished from schools and other public positions are suddenly finding themselves backed into a corner, having to defend themselves from the consequences of their belief system.

Scott Lively, in addition to the three anti-gay organizations he runs (all of which have been classified as hate groups by the Southern Poverty Law Center), was also once the former head of the California branch of the American Family Association. The AFA is a right-wing Christian organization that has campaigned against gay teachers, gay journalists, gay people on television, gay people in advertising, gay allegories in movies, gay-straight alliances in schools, and apparently just about anything that could possibly be construed as gay. In fact, not only did they oppose then-Representative Jim Kolbe's speech at the 2000 Republican National Convention, they suggested that he be arrested when he returned to his home state, since he is a homosexual and Arizona's sodomy laws clearly indicate that he should be punished for that. Scott Lively moved on from the AFA to form a group called Watchmen at the Walls, which is apparently responsible for a large increase in anti-gay violence in eastern Europe and Russia.

How does someone who is most famous for being the founder and/or president of three hate groups, who wrote a book called The Pink Swastika, who is affiliated with multiple organizations that support the criminalization of homosexuality — how does this person take a trip to the most homophobic place on earth to deliver what he terms "a nuclear bomb against the gay agenda" and not expect that they're going to react by imposing the death penalty on those accused of "aggravated homosexuality?" But the sad thing is that I believe Scott Lively when he says he "was very disappointed" in the way the bill turned out. I believe that he honestly does not want homosexuals killed because he doesn't want blood on his hands. He would rather that we be jailed for life for our crimes; he wants us converted if we're not already too far gone; he wants us hiding in the shadows in fear for our livelihoods — but he doesn't want us dead because that would be unpleasant. In his mind, we can avoid all of the suffering he would impose upon us by simply converting and being cured. This is what conservative Christians do: they claim that Christianity is about love and forgiveness, but there's a neat little scam in that statement. Jesus is the one who gives you his love and forgiveness. All Christians have to do is tell you about Jesus, and that for them is love and forgiveness. Whenever you hear a conservative Christian talk about compassion, remember that "compassion" is doublespeak for "Let me tell you about Jesus." And anything that happens after you turn your back on Jesus is entirely your fault. The only compassion required from a conservative Christian past that point is just to tell you about Jesus again.

So my question becomes this: what place is there for GLBT people in the theocratic society these people seem to want? They don't want us dead, apparently because they feel it is wrong to murder. But anyone who is gay would seemingly be barred from any kind of public life or gainful employment unless they were to repent (and either be cured or be celibate), lest that person influence the community's children into becoming homosexuals. I suppose that they would come up with places for those of us who won't convert where we can live without pushing our homosexual agenda on the rest of the world. Prisons or ghettos, it doesn't much matter. The bottom line is that their society will be free of the homosexual filth that currently makes them seethe with resentment - why are they, the faithful, made to watch as their gay neighbors live together in sin? Why do they have to allow their children to mingle with other children who may not be heterosexual? Wouldn't it be better for the truly faithful if they could just cleanse their lives of our sinful ways and our homosexual agenda by perhaps putting us somewhere out of sight where we won't be a bother anymore?

You have got to compete with them…you have to be working toward a future of your own. A picture of the future of your own that is contradictory to theirs, in which the things that they want to do have no place because you have been so successful at promoting the idea of sex within marriage…focus on transforming the society to be reinforcing of all these ideas…everywhere…When you do that then you create a climate in which these things really cannot get very far.
- Scott Lively, Kampala, Uganda, March 2009

And that leads me to an even bigger question. Why does nobody ask questions like these? Why has nobody asked one of these people during an interview what place they see their GLBT neighbors (or their atheist neighbors or their Buddhist neighbors) having in society? When the answer is "none" (or more likely, some self-serving answer that sounds good but says nothing), why does nobody then extend it to the question of what happens to us? It would be one thing if these were the rantings of a Fred Phelps, someone who has credibility in the eyes of no one. But this is a man who directly influenced the creation of a bill that will lead to the execution of gay men. This is someone who is gaining influence among the Christian right. These people are starting to wield an increasing amount of political power, and it seems that the only person even halfway willing to ask them any kind of a hard question is Rachel Maddow.

So I think I have a New Year's Resolution now. From now on, any time I see someone advocating the removal of GLBT people (or atheists, or Muslims, or any marginalized group) from some part of society, I will send them a letter asking them what their end game is. And if I ever get a reply, I will post it online. Or better yet, I'll try to get an interview with someone and post that. I'll start holding my breath now...