Apparently, This Needs To Be Said: Victim-Blaming is Bullshit

I was on Jezebel today and came across this article.

In case you don't know, two NYC police officers were on trial, and acquitted, of rape of a young woman who was drunk. According to reports, the officer raped her while the other officer was a lookout. A 9-11 call was faked, the officer went back to her that night around four times...it's just an all-around horrible, horrible tale of police misconduct and human depravity.

What's worse is that in said article, the wife of the police officer apparently said that the victim should go to hell, that she hates the victim, and that the victim should go to jail.

Wait, WHAT?!

So, apparently, this needs to be said.

1.) You, male or female, need to get consent before you engage in any kind of sexual activity with someone. If a person is under a certain age, no matter if he/she says yes, one cannot legally give consent. If you don't get this consent, this is considered rape.

2.) If a person is drunk or inebriated, he/she cannot give consent. If you have sex with a person under the influence, this is considered rape.

3.) Blaming the victim is the worst thing you can do. It is never a victim's fault for enduring rape. There is no amount of clothes you can wear, nothing you can do, no place you can go to prevent rape. A person is raped because someone raped them. And, yes, your husband is capable of rape. Your father is capable of rape. Your pastor is capable of rape. Focus on them and their seriously troubling actions instead of telling victims they should go to Hell because they were taken advantage of in a state where they couldn't defend themselves.

4.) Cops are supposed to protect and serve, not rape.

5.) As a woman, she should be ashamed of herself. It's horrible for men to blame victims of rape for their crime, but it's doubly grating to see a woman who is oppressed by the same society and could easily herself become a victim of rape blaming a victim or something her raping-ass husband did. How she can sit next to him, defend him, and spew hate for the victim is mind-boggling to me. And frankly, it's disgusting as hell.

Instead of blaming the victim, why don't we support her and other rape victims? She didn't ask for this to happen to her; she didn't seek out a penis to be forced into her vagina.

And while we're at it, why don't we, I don't know, focus on these men who apparently think it's okay to take advantage of and rape a drunk person? Why don't we deal with the rape culture we live under daily? Why don't we teach our men (and some of our women) that rape is never okay and should be punished under the fullest extent of the law? Why don't we end the statutes of limitations on rape? Why don't we make sure police make rape cases a priority so rape kits aren't backlogged? Why don't we teach our girls (and our boys) that it is never their fault if they are raped?

But I guess that shit's way too hard. So let's go back to telling a rape victim she should go to hell. You know, as if she doesn't feel like she's already there.

Scars, Or My Lack Thereof

I've been thinking about this a lot recently because it comes up a lot in conversations with many different people.

Many people are shocked when I reveal to them that I have no scars. I actually have two little ones: one I got from shaving my legs in high school, the other when I cut my arm on a massage chair at Bed, Bath, and Beyond (don't ask). However, both of these scars have faded so much that it's almost impossible to find them. Yes, my skin is the bomb.

I wasn't the kind of child to do things that could potentially hurt me; I'm still not. I refused to join my brothers in jumping off our back porch when we were kids. The first time I fell while attempting to learn to ride a two-wheeler was the last time I rode a bike. I didn't climb trees, and I didn't do too much of playing outside (I live on the south side of the Chi for God's sake).

I've always been the kind of girl who stayed inside and read, wrote, or watched television. I played usually by myself, unless you counted my Barbie dolls. That's just how I was; and it's still how I am.

And I don't feel like I missed out on anything. I hold no regrets about it. My childhood, despite other issues and problems, didn't leave me in want or yearning for the things my peers did that I "missed out on." I knew who I was at a young age, and still hold these tendencies now. They've helped me and saved me.

I have basically no scars. I've never broken a bone. Since I was born, I've never spent the night at a hospital for any reason. I've never been rushed to an ER. And I don't brag on these things or think I'm better than anyone else for it.

It's simply the truth. And I don't regret it at all.

Fat Fashion Fun: Easter Edition

I know Easter was a long time ago. Shut up.

Sometimes, I feel like dressing up and looking cute. And I thought Easter Service at Church was the best time for it.

The white shrug/half-cardigan/whatever was from Ashley Stewart. So is this beautiful orange dress I'm rocking.

Without the thingy. It's strapless!

I act funny sometimes.

Here's a better picture of the jewelry. I'm sure you've seen both the earrings and the necklace before. And, of course, they're from Claire's. I don't know where I got the headband.

My orange shoes are from Payless! Aren't they pretty?

Ladies, it's Spring. Don't let bright colors keep you insecure. Many of them bring out the best in you and your skin. Do it up! Do it big!

Also, go strapless. Do it. Don't say anything. Just do it! 8D