by Rebekah Tinker, ASW

CONVERSATIONS ON RAPE

A few nights ago I lay awake, restless, staring at the moon-drenched pine outside my window, my mind both empty and loud. Hours earlier my partner and I watched A Promising Young Woman, written and directed by Emerald Fennell. The black comedy thriller follows a young woman seeking to avenge her friend’s rape and death (you can read on, no spoilers!). I thought of my clients, my friends, the strangers whose stories I knew intimately from the news, each confusing encounter I have had with men. I thought of each of us alone in our beds, staring into the night, waiting for morning. 

I thought of the systemic circumstances and casual misogynistic games that have brought us together in this shared violation and trauma. The generational imbalances, legacy burdens we hold, and our conscious or unconscious belief in their power. These thoughts are a claustrophobic knowing that feels inescapable. How do we uproot and reconstruct our world to make it safe for women and girls? And at what point do we need to shift the focus from the resilient AF female survivors to the stagnant and oppressive men? (I use the binary terms of women and girls here not to dismiss the sexual trauma of trans and non-binary folks, but to target the root of sexism and rape which began primarily as an attack on women by men.)

As the credits rolled, my partner released the typical end-of-movie sigh into the pregnant silence of our dark living room. My arms wrapped around my belly and shoulders squeezed to my ears, I felt the familiar urge to escape as far inside myself as possible. I had no sigh to release in return. An exhale would have said, “this is over now, let’s continue with the bedtime routine, maybe talk about it for a minute, then brush our teeth.” That felt impossible, disgusting, and short sighted. Despite the immense patience and safety my partner has always shown, I felt angry and guarded. I felt hopeless and empowered, but in an aggressive way. An impatient way. 

I thought of my client who told me to watch the film. How the conversation echoed so many others I’ve had about the shared confusion and powerlessness so many women hold, and the many pregnant silences of dark living rooms absent of sighs. My client was alone in the silence of the rolling credits with her mom. The words unspoken were palpable—“we deserve better, men must be better.” And yet, the words that broke the silence embodied shame and misplaced blame—“I hope you have never gotten that drunk, girls should do better.” I heard her repeat her mother’s words, laughing, unconscious of her nervous embarrassment. Her mother, like so many of our mothers, had been subject to a lifetime of patriarchal messaging that proclaimed, “men will be men,” “women are to blame.” 

I found myself wondering, am I doing the right work? While women need a healing space to cultivate power and sexual freedom, men need an intervention in sex education. Cultural sexist supremacy must be untaught or the cycle of rape culture will never end. Am I targeting the right population for a deep uprooting of the patriarchal framework and male hegemony? As a psychodynamic therapist, should that be my goal?