Blog - Shame is the key obstacle in the fight against sexual violence

Thomas Garrod-Pullar

There’s a common theme around the discussion of sexual violence; that women are the victims, and men are the perpetrators. While it is true a vast majority of sexual violence offenders are men, the idea that only men can cause harm is as damaging as the concept that only women can be harmed: it simply isn’t true.

Before starting Menaswell, it was clear to me that the discussion about sexual consent went far beyond empowering women to say no. Sexual violence is a cacophony of social factors, generally underpinned by the notion of power. Rape is after all, rarely about sexual gratification. In order to truly tackle the issue of sexual abuse, we must begin to empower all people to engage in the issue of consent.

Sex, when nurtured and enjoyed consensually, can lead to many of the most intense and intimate interpersonal interactions you will have in your life. It is great. But the possibility of this intimacy also brings with it vulnerability. Both sides must respect, trust and to some extent, take responsibility for the other. Rather than it being a question of No vs Yes, it is actually a question of mutuality – either party can and should be able to withdraw, change direction, or share their feelings openly at any point.

It is exactly that vulnerability that both parties can experience that is played upon by the sexually violent: the dominance that a person exerts when they rape somebody is what they thrive off. It’s why so many sexual offenders are repeat offenders. But it isn’t just men who do this, and they don’t just do it to women.

One thing that the discussion of sexual consent focuses on in its narrative that men are rapists and women are victims, is lack of sympathy or understanding by men of what it feels like to be a woman and raped. This, I believe, is not because men do not want to be sympathetic to the topic of rape, but in the narrative of ‘men vs women’, it is hard to understand what it feels like to actually be raped. When a finger is pointed towards one portion of society in an often accusatory way, it’s perhaps no surprise that they are less able to engage in a productive way.

It’s been said by Amy Remeikis in the Guardian that we should teach men to think as if their girlfriend, or daughter were a victim in order that they can sympathise and thus participate in the discussion of sexual consent. The truth, however, is that men are also raped. And sometimes, by women. This is something that men often do not discuss, largely because the idea of being raped as a man is so shameful that it is suppressed as a thought. Actually, it’s exactly those feelings that are the key to unlocking men’s involvement in the discussion of sexual consent: if rape is an act of domination, and it brings with it feelings of shame and intense vulnerability, then surely the emotions and trauma experienced when it happens to men would be some sort of equivalent to those experienced by women?

We already know that statistically, male victims are more likely to present symptoms of PTSD than women after being raped. Perhaps one way for men to understand what it is to be a woman and be raped, is to teach men what it is like to be a man and raped. Because how it feels to be a victim of rape is as universal as the question “who is raped?” and only by introducing this narrative can we begin to move the stigma of rape away from the victims and towards the perpetrators, whoever they are.