Because consent.

An acquaintance recently commented on a Facebook thread about those nudie pics that were "hacked" (FML, it's VIOLATED not HACKED, jaysus-effin-eff, people) of various celebrities recently.  The thread had to do with honest bemusement that owners of such beautiful forms would be upset at all over the worldwide adoration of them at their finest.  Her comment was: "Because consent."  And I felt that it was the perfect statement.  It's one of those answers that doesn't require any debate or any discussion because it just IS.  Consent is so simple.  No consent equals a violation tantamount to assault.

This whole "news-worthy" topic was mostly cringe-inducing until I realized how much conversation about consent and rape-culture and victim-shaming was going on ALL OVER THE PLACE.  And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

I have spent the majority of my adult life congratulating myself on being a good ol' guy.  I don't get offended by a whole lot and I frequently find the funny in derogatory jokes (race, gender, sexual orientation, age, religion, and politics to name a few) as long as those laughing treat this type of joking as one would cigars or onions: either everyone in the party does or everyone in the party does not.

I have often said that I wanted to raise boys that could also find the funny in all things and that could brush off stereotypical bullshit with laughter - thereby taking the sting and satisfaction out of said bullshit.  But I've realized more and more that I came to this "awareness of self" and confidence AFTER my youth - actually, I may have been in my late twenties before I REALLY became comfortable with myself and my skin.  A lot of that is residual from being adopted and having sought out belonging and acceptance with ALL the wrong ammunition, but it did take a LONG time.  If that is so, then the laughter that I partake in while my children are at such a impressionable age will affect them in a way that I may not intend.

If you take mental illness out of the equation, you have to wonder: where did all the boys who rape learn their behavior?  Where did this miasma of victim-blaming, this totally accepted culture we have of teaching the preyed-upon more tools to fight off predators instead of teaching the predators to NOT RAPE, come from?  It MUST be a learned behavior.  I refuse to believe that we are so basically bestial that we are genetically predisposed to raping each other.

So now I think of my sons.  What can I do to make sure I don't raise little pieces of shits that think it's funny to piss on the towel boy, over-serve a girl then say she was "asking for it", or take nudie pics of their one-night-stands and mass text them to the student body?  I think the better question is, "Have I ever found entertainment in any of those things?"  I am ashamed to say that while I didn't find it humorous in high school when one of the jocks urinated on another boy in the showers, I never spoke up about it, never stood up for him.  I am ashamed to say that I have MANY TIMES said that a little modesty never hurt anyone.  I am ashamed to say that I've thought, "What can she be thinking, she's got to know how slutty she looks, right?"  And when I say these things, have my sons ever heard me?  When I make a sarcastic face when confronted with a top frequently compared to the top of a muffin, when I make a snide remark when a scantily-clad woman walks by, when I roll my eyes when a man shouts sexual epitaphs, like "what do you expect" or "boys will be boys", have my sons seen this?

I think when we try to understand how we could have ended up here as a culture...we have to start with the question: WHAT AM I PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR?  Yes, on a social, governmental, mass-media front, there are definitely enough bulls-eye's for blame, but what am I responsible for?  How have I added to this cultural norm of blaming the victim?  When did I not speak up?  When did I speak up on behalf of the perpetrator and not the innocent?  My sons will learn the majority of how to act in the real world from me and Hubs.  What example are we giving them?

So this is my pledge: other people's bodies are not my bailiwick for judgement, we shouldn't have to train the weak to defend themselves, I'll just go ahead and teach my sons not to rape, and the age of bodily consent is birth (obviously, aside from necessities like bathing and doctoring).  For example: B doesn't like being tickled.  I also hate being tickled.  But I love to tickle.  He laughs but he doesn't enjoy it.  He finally figured out how to tell me and damn, that was a hard pill to take - geez, did I ever feel awful.  It just never occurred to me that he might not like it.

So unnamed friend, you'll know who you are when you read this, thanks for your two word comment on Facebook that day.  It really made me think.  And that's always a good thing.