Blaming the Victim

If you live in the Seattle area, you probably know about the woman who was murdered by a man she had been dating. When the story first broke, the assumption was that it may have been the couple’s first date. As more information was learned, it turns out that they had been dating for at least a month. The crux of the story, for many people, seems to be how they met. They met online.

I have no idea why I sometimes choose to read the comments people make on articles. The comments always end up making me so mad, irritated, and saddened by the lack of compassion people have for their fellow human beings. Who are these people filled with judgement and assurance about what “would a” “should a,” or “could a” happened? So they “would a” done a background check. She “should a” done a background check. She “could a” not let him into her house.

It is such an offense to me. How easy we judge as Monday morning quarterback/coaches. How easy we judge in hindsight about all the clues that would solve the mystery.

I had a conversation with a sister friend about this while taking a walk. We both agreed that this “Peanut Gallery” comment section reeked of blaming the victim. We started talking about rape, and my friend shared an experience she had during her college days. And the response from her community was basically to stop talking about it and let it go.

It was during this moment that I shared with her something I had never shared with anyone else. It’s something that happened to me at the end of my college years. Based on where I lived, it was my senior year in college. I probably would have been 22 and close to graduation. The only response I had sometime afterward was to write a story in third person about what happened between a woman and man.

The short end of it was I was dating a guy. A guy who I had been physically intimate with. One night, he came over, and he wanted to have sex. I did not. I started off by pushing and saying no. But he responded by deflecting and continuing his pursuit of me. At some point, I realized that it didn’t matter what I said or did. It was going to happen regardless and that was the point in time I stopped fighting and just let it happen.

Afterward it didn’t seem like anything was out of the ordinary. He stayed over like he would normally do. We continued to date and be intimate for a period after.

I never called it raped, but when I wrote it in the third person sometime afterward, I think I understood that something was wrong with had transpired.

So 20+ years later, I have to ask myself why I justified what happened to me and never said a word. Why did I justified it? We were dating. He came to my house at night. He and I had been intimate before. He and I were intimate afterward (and that seems so weird to me now). I let him into my house. I should have fought harder. I stopped fighting.

And I have to really ask our society why we blame the victim.

In the case of rape. She was wearing a revealing outfit. She was out late at night. She had been drinking. She was at a party. She can’t be raped by her husband.

If someone is murdered. They were in a gang. They had a criminal background. They were in a bad neighborhood. They were out a club. They were out after midnight.

And the unsaid judgement is that is the victim got what they deserved.

And in the case of the woman who was murdered. That’s why she should not have dated someone she met online. That’s why she should not have let him in her house. That’s why she should have done a background check.

My only conclusion is that we say these asinine comments to make ourselves feel safer. Whatever it is would not happen to us if we did A, B, or C, or we if don’t do X, Y, or Z. This is complete fallacy.

It makes me sad. It makes me angry. And a person who is the victim of a heinous act is attacked all over again.