In the matter of rape

Rape! Such a small word to describe this thing sick men do when they use our bodies like seminal spittoons. More than 100,000 were reported this year, an all-time high. Yet within our community, that particular four-letter word only seems to draw our outrage when the penis being wielded like a sowrd is white and the victim. Black, or vice versa. Then rape becomes a race issue, conjuring up ugly stories of women raped on slave ships and in cotton fields, plantation houses and slave cabins. They stir memories of the evil days of Jim Crow and night riders and robe-wearing Ku Kluxers; of innocent men accused, imprisoned, eastrated, lynched; of women abducted; of no justice.

The rape of white women by Black men was always guaranteed to make headlines and stir heated, often violent, public reaction. But only recently has the same been true when Black women fell victim to white assailants. No matter what we may think about her story, the response of those who rallied round Tawana Brawley dramatically tipped the scales. Despite the outcome, that case was a milestone that put white America on notice. Never before had the story of the rape of an African-American woman been deemed worthy of so much attention. Never again would reports of the rape of a Black woman by whites be routinely buried or shunted aside.

History fires our protests and rage when the victim is Black and her assailant(s) white. She becomes a symbol of all the countless thousands for whom no outcry could be raised. Yet racism became the core issue. Many lose sight of the fact that rape is an act of sexist violence. It's not surprising, given all the in-your-face racism we are confronting, that these cases charge our emotions. And yet in the midst of the protest marches and speeches where people rail against racism and men are prone to indulge in macho rhetoric about "protecting our women," I keep wondering when we will become as incensed around the cold facts about rape in our community. Horrible as these cases are, what seems to be conveniently overlooked or forgotten is that it's rarely white men we need fear. Interracial rape is the exception, not the rule. The rape of Black women by Black men is the ugly, ominous reality.

It is estimated that as many as 1 million rapes actually occur every year, the majority of which go unreported. They're so commonplace that few make the headlines, much less the nightly news. Those that do usually involve someone famous, such as a Kennedy nephew or a world heavyweight champion, or have a victim considered above reproach such as a nun or a grandmother, or are particularly heinous, violent, titillating or interracial. Undoubtedly one of the major reasons so few rapes are considered newsworthy is that, according to the FBI, Black women are twice as likely to be raped as white women, and less likely to report it.

Rape has become so common that it's estimated that one out of four American women will be sexually assaulted or raped in her lifetime. The chances of it happening to us are even greater than that. So why are there no protest marches in our communities, no impassioned speeches, no chest-pounding rhetoric from "de leadership" about that? When folks speak of Black-on-Black crime, shake their heads in shock, despair and sorrow, rarely is rape the crime that comes most to mind. People talk about drugs, random and drive-by shootings, robbery, muggings; but amidst all the head shaking and talk our sexual brutalization is too often mad-dressed, too rarely discussed. And when it is--as was the case when a group of women in Brooklyn called a press conference in their neighborhood to voice concern about the number of Black women who are murdered and raped and only one person showed--the issue is ignored.

Who would know Tawana Brawley's name or even care if she had said she'd been abducted and raped by a group of Black men? (Don't you think it's ironic, given recent events, that Mike Tyson visited her and offered his support?)

How come those men who so rallied round Tawana Brawley have been so silent about the rape charges leveled against the heavyweight champion? Where is the outrage?

The silence in our community over the issue of rape echoes the silence that pervades most of America, mainly because women, despite all the lofty phrases, are devalued, and too many people still confuse the rape of an adult woman with sex. They don't see if for what it really is--a hate crime against women and an act of anger, rage, control, dominance and degradation. As a result, one still hears sick comments like "She should lie back and enjoy it." Unless her body bears brutal, visible witness to the violence, rape's violation of a woman is minimized; instead people comment about rape as if it were no more than a virus that a victim will soon get over.

Much of the silence stems from the fact that the women most vulnerable are those whom this country cares the least about. Poor women, especially poor Black women, living in the high-crime areas that often foster violent behavior or crowded, unsecured housing, reliant on public transportation, all too often become easy targets for rapists. But poor Black women are also the ones labeled and dismissed by a majority of whites and far too many Blacks as shiftless, lazy, sexually irresponsible welfare takers. The litany of their despair rarely shocks or stirs those more comfortable. It is despicable but hardly surprising that there is silence about the rapes of poor Black women.

That silence says a great deal about how African-American women are really valued. There's a lot of anger out there toward us for getting too uppity, for challenging male authority and becoming too independent. Our oppression is too often dismissed, a devalued or denied. This is especially true when we raise the issue as it relates to Black-male behavior. People tend to avoid acknowledging the fact that rape, no matter the color of the penis, is an act of oppression and terrorism. And women who dare to challenge the "party line," which demands we speak no evil of the brothers unless given their permission, are sure to be called traitors to the cause.

Hush, don't speak! Ignore the fact that every six minutes a woman is being raped in America. Forget that every six minutes a woman is hearing these or similar words spoken: "Shut up and spread your legs. Scream and I'll kill you! Bend over! Open your mouth! Suck it!" Be silent while around you folks spout gutter wisdom to justify rape by saying some of us enjoy, provoke, deserve, invite it--that women will lie and cry rape to get back at a man and avoid repercussions.

In a society where victim blaming is too often the automatic response, we, the people who should know only too well the toll that takes, fall mute when women who cry rape are damned for what they did or didn't do and what they wore or, worse, indulge in finger pointing ourselves. In a group discussion about the rape charges leveled against Mike Tyson, several men and women kept saying "She should have known better than to go to his room. She should have known." They made it sound as if rape were just punishment for poor judgment. The messages are contradictory. It's common to hear Black men deride Black women for their lack of trust in them. And yet many of these same Black men will say, as one did, "A woman should never put herself in a position where she is not in control with a man she does not know really well. Most men usually have one thing on their minds when it comes to women, and if the opportunity presents itself he's gonna take it." Too often the responsibility is placed on women, too rarely on what's awry in ever-increasing numbers of our men.

Psychologists are quick to tell us that feelings of powerlessness often provoke rape, that often rapists have themselves been victims of abuse. Drugs, unemployment, illiteracy, homelessness, failing schools, dying children, lawless, decaying neighborhoods, struggling families, tattered values--Langston Hughes warned about what happens to dreams deferred. What happens when there are no dreamds at all and you live in a society that routinely dehumanizes and defames women with ugly names like bimbo, bitch, cunt, slut and whore and relentlessly reduces us to mere body parts? "Did you see those legs? What about those tits, man?" "Shake that thang," "Sure would like some of that."

Even models are used to sell products in ways that make us all seem like prostitutes, and women are regularly beaten, abused, murdered, raped and sexually assaulted in black-and-white and living color in cinema and television films. It's been estimated that one out of eight Hollywood films has a rape theme and that by the age of 18 the average youth has watched 250,000 acts of violence and 40,000 attempted murders on television.

What happens to those dead and dying dreams in our communities where the cult of Black macho and the glorification of lowlife street values rage out of control? What happens to dreams when men are encouraged to be way too free with their hands, invading women's space and touching our bodies without permission? What happens when aggressive sexual posturing and comments to and about women become rituals? We walk down streets where men feel free to hiss, stick out their tongues, make lascivious comments, even grab their johnsons. In our communities, men walk up to you and say, "Baby, I sure like your legs," then grow hostile if you don't respond positively. What happens to dreams in an environment where an entire generation mouths with gusto 2 Live Crew's sexist filth and all those other casually pornographic rap songs where women are talked to and about like sexual rag dolls? It creates an atmosphere that encourages a sense of male entitlement to women's bodies and destroys our self-esteem. When everything else fails, it fosters the belief that manhood as defined by sexual prowess, braggadocio, power and ability to dominate woman is all that really counts.

Is it any wonder the average age of a rapist is 19, or that young men under 21 are involved in 62 percent of rapes committed by multiple offenders?

But let's not get all middle-class smug, for rape is not just a "ghetto" thing. Talk to young sisters on college campuses about date rape perpetrated by their male peers. It is estimated that one woman out of four will be sexually assaulted on campuses, but only one of every ten women will report it. That sick sense of entitlement does not adhere to class lines, hasn't a thing to do with education or income. Nor does age automatically diminish the rapist's urge.

Yet the silence that shrouds the issue in our community continues to smother the issue. What happens to us is still deemed of little import. The ambivalence on the issue of rape, on the importance of a Black woman's sexual integrity and our personhood does not encourage or empower rape victoms tp speak out and demand justice. We loudly bewan the ever-growing numbers of our men in prison, but remain silent about the ever-growing numbers of women who are their victims. Even under the most supportive circumstances, it is difficult for a woman to publicly describe sexual acts. It is a loathsome thing to be questioned about. It is harder still to do this when it's a woman's word against a man's; more times than not we are not believed. Add to that the fact you come from a community that does not seem to care, a community where the ever-rising number of rapes are met with a silence that seems to deny their importance. Is it any wonder that so few come forward? Their silence echoes ours.

For most of our 360-year history in this country we were silent about rape because we had no other choice: Our voices were stilled by slavery and by American apartheid. The story of our peoples' oppression was often related in male terms, in male experiences. The stories of our sexual bondage too often suppressed became a source of shame rather than testaments to our endurance and struggle. "Hush, don't speak . . ."

Today our silence about rape is encouraged by those who would like to censor what should and should not be talked about, who wish to believe that racism as defined by men is the only form of oppression to be addressed or that it must take priority above all else. The routine violation of our bodies is made to seem of no real importance. In our silence, women are made to accept the burden of rape as if it were our responsibility. And that silence exacts an increasingly heavy toll. It isolates rather than embraces or supports our sisters who have been raped. It heightens distrust and further undermines our often fragile relationships with men. It increases our oppression and our fear.

Rape! Such a small word to describe this thing that men do. Women in their nineties, babies still in diapers, females of all ages--no one of us is safe. Fathers rape their daughters, uncles their nieces. The rapist is a stranger, an acquaintance, a colleague, a friend, a date, a boyfriend, a relative, a husband. Yet by our silence we seem to be saying that rape doesn't matter when it's all in the family or as long as it doesn't happen to you.

Tck, tick, tick--every six minutes a woman is being lynched.

Marcia Ann Gillespie is a writer and editor living in New York.

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