sexual violence

A marcher holding a sign that says, “we believe you.” Photo by Fibonacci Blue, Flickr CC

Since Surviving R. Kelly aired on Lifetime, we’ve seen a rise of activists led by Black women calling for the #MuteRKelly campaign, which dissuades music labels, radio stations, and other music platforms from selling, distributing, and promoting R. Kelly’s music. But despite the recent backlash, fans across the country continue to show their support for the R&B star. While some attempt to separate their feelings about the art from the artist, others dismiss Black women’s claims of R. Kelly’s abusive behaviors altogether. Much of this support comes from other Black R. Kelly fans. The documentary and the subsequent controversy also shed important light on an issue that is often missing from the public sphere: the plight of Black women and girls who experience sexual violence. Saida Grundy’s recent piece in The Atlantic helps us break down how Black support for R. Kelly remains despite the shocking revelations from Black women.

Rape myths have long obscured sexual victimization by suggesting that “real rape” occurs by strangers in a dark alley, women who dress “proactively” and show signs of intoxication “ask for it,” and men are not responsible for assault because they are unable to control their sexual impulses. According to Grundy, Black survivors and victims encounter a distinct set of racialized rape myths both from the broader public and from members of their own racial/ethnic community.

“With racialized rape myths, people compound untrue narratives about sexual assault with their own self-interests. For example, some African Americans might think defending Kelly is a way to push back against the history of false rape allegations from white women against black men — allegations that functioned as assaults on black communities, as they were commonly used by whites to justify the lynching of African American men during the Jim Crow era.”

Grundy echoes work by Black feminist scholars, such as Beth Richie, who argue that Black women and girls experience a “trap of loyalty,” where they are expected to resist racism against Black men by excusing or altogether denying abusive behaviors, even at the risk of concealing and enduring their own abuse. Furthermore, recent reports illustrate how Black girls are viewed as more adult and consequently less innocent than white girls. These myths surrounding innocence create interlocking gendered and racialized messages about Black girls’ and women’s sexuality that suggest they are “fast,” hypersexual, and deserving of men’s and boys’ unwanted advances towards them. In the age of #MeToo, disrupting racialized rape myths and the broader rape culture allows us to understand the race- and gender-specific mechanisms that damage Black girls’ and women’s credibility and impede disclosure and reporting on their experiences with sexual violence.

Photo by Steve Rainwater, Flickr CC

Supreme Court nominee — now associate justice — Brett Kavanaugh gave an interview to Fox News where he claimed that he could not have assaulted Dr. Christine Blasey Ford because he did not have sex until many years after high school. In a recent op-ed for Huffington Post, sociologist Sarah Diefendorf argues that this ‘good guys’ defense perpetuates an erroneous belief that rapists are fundamentally bad people who are incapable of becoming successful and accomplished people, like Brett Kavanaugh. Diefendorf explains,

When Kavanaugh or other men respond to allegations of sexual assault by making themselves look like good guys, they’re trying to pin the blame on other “bad” men as failures of masculinity. This good guy defense is brilliant. It allows men to make the problem of sexual assault and rape about being an individual ― the work of bad men, not a bad culture ― when we know that it is actually a widespread cultural problem.

Instead of a binary where there are ‘good’ and ‘bad’ guys, Diefendorf cites social science research about how young men learn that masculinity means exerting dominance. This can mean symbolic domination, like calling another man a ‘fag’ or bragging about sex with women, or physical domination, like sexual assault. Citing her own research, Diefendorf points out that dominance work is a show for other men. She writes,

My research suggests that masculine bonding at the expense of women might be even stronger among men who are virgins. I spoke to men ages 19 to 25 who were virgins to understand how virginity affected how they saw themselves as men. Male virginity is often stigmatized, so the men I spoke to had to find other ways to be accepted as manly. They would talk to other men about sex frequently to show how hard it was to keep themselves from doing it.

Social science can remind us that masculinity carries assumptions of domination and is a powerful cultural force in shaping behavior — a force that can affect even those who present themselves as ‘good guys.’

Photo by Pierre-Selim, Flickr CC

The #MeToo movement and high-profile sexual harassment and assault cases recently brought greater media attention to sexual violence. With this increased attention, however, comes new questions regarding the language used to talk about and write about various forms of sexual violence. This is not only a question of what specific words to use, but also how much detail to give about the act of violence or the victims’ experiences. Using vague or all-encompassing terms like “sexual violence” can flatten and sanitize victims’ experiences. However, when descriptions of sexual violence are not sanitized, they tend to be sensationalized.

In a recent Vox article on the complicated language of sexual violence, sociologist Heather Hlavka argues that sensationalizing violence can be a serious problem.

“Are we, as a culture, so titillated by the extremities of violence — the types, the details, the comportments — that we would like to ingest each sensationalized bit of people’s experiences?” asks Hlavka. “What is the ultimate goal? To better understand? To discredit the experience or mitigate the offense because it fell low on a range of horrors? To discredit the victim by dissecting her actions, her composure, her silence, or her resolve?”

People who experience sexual violence also struggle with language. According to Hlavka, many do not recognize or name their experiences as such, but this does not mean the problem is a lack of words to use to describe sexual violence. Instead, she argues that a broader culture of sexism has the power to reshape the meaning behind such terms, causing them to lose their power. 

Girls do not name their experiences as rape or sexual assault, despite very clearly fitting within established legal categories. Boys, too, struggle to understand, define, and identify as a victim of sexual violence but for different reasons. I would argue that we do not lack a language of sexual violence and harassment…It’s there — it’s a feminist language of power and control and abuse and consent — we just aren’t integrating it in truly meaningful ways, and thus our experiences will not neatly map onto law.”

"I'm Here for You" at Loyola University Chicago offers support to victims of dating violence, sexual assault, and stalking.
“I’m Here for You” at Loyola University Chicago offers support to victims of dating violence, sexual assault, and stalking.

Good sociological research illuminates how individuals in society interact with social institutions and with one another. Sometimes, this research can uncover some of the feel-good aspects of social life. Other times, it can leave you despairing for humanity and raging against social structures.

A new report by Marquette University sociologist Heather Hlavka evokes the latter feelings. Analyzing over 100 interviews with girls aged 3 to 17 who may have been sexually assaulted, Hlavka found that the majority of these young women didn’t see themselves as victims because they considered sexual harassment a “normal” part of everyday life and male behavior.

For years, politicians, pundits, academics, and community advocates have been troubled by the staggering statistic that 60% of sexual assault and harassment goes unreported. Hlavka’s research speaks to some of the reasons behind this figure. Beyond the normalization of sexual harassment and assault, she finds that assaults go unreported out of shame, fear of retribution, and mistrust of authority. This mistrust extends to male authority figures, including police officers, to whom many of these women and girls would report an assault.

Hlavka sees her study as a call to action. Changing the way we think about sexual assault and sexual harassment might be a big step toward stopping it.

You can watch Hlavka discuss her research on the Melissa Harris-Perry Show.