someone needs to tell him it's Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

Heard of the Open Source Boobie Project?

If you haven't, you should probably know straight off the bat that the name's a misnomer. Open Source has nothing to do with this because breasts are not publicly shareable bits of property. Breasts belong to the person they are attached to. They do not belong to anyone else -- not the doctor, not the plastic surgeon, not the boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other of the moment and not the hungry baby. My breasts, my uterus, my vagina, my body.

And if you try to act otherwise, I will most likely oppose your viewpoint either firmly or violently depending on your level of stupidity.

That said, what exactly am I so snarly about this? Multiple reasons.

1. For a moment, everything that was awkward about high school would fade away and you could just say what was on your mind. It was as though parts of me were being healed whenever I did it, and I touched at least fifteen sets of boobs at Penguicon. It never got old, surprisingly. Women are not responsible for your sexual healing. If you had a hard time picking up girls in high school or getting to touch their breasts, dressing up wanting to touch a lot of breasts at a con as 'sexual healing' does not make it look less sleazy. Like someone else said, my breasts do not have magical healing powers.
   
   
2. Like brown_betty said, "apparently there is a deeply felt conviction among some subset of men that the problem with today's society is that they do not have enough access to women's bodies."
   
   Of all the things that are wrong with society, I really don't think that's one of them.
   
   ( Four more reasons under the cut. )
   
   
   More reactions, many much more articulate, can be found here.

Sexual Assault Awareness Month: Saying No.

Last night, I was talking with an friend of mine about what her definition of rape is versus harassment is, and one of the things she brought up is how much she hates it when girls don’t say no or don’t protest clearly but then claim it was rape the next day.

So I thought that since it’s Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I’d write about a case in my life when I wanted to say no, didn’t manage to, but I really wish I had.

This was going to be an entry about how when I was seventeen, I once failed to say no/clearly show that I didn't want a guy sexually touching me. Then I reread the journal entries that I'd written at the time and realized that I hadn't ever said the actual word 'no', but I had signified discomfort in a lot of ways and tried to get away from him.

Here's an excerpt from one of the journal entries in question. ( Cut for possible triggers. Typoes left in for the sake of accuracy. )

Originally, I had remembered this as him touching my breast and me backing away from him. I hadn't remembered that I had fought back. I didn't remember that I kicked him, and I didn't remember that he continued with his advances afterwards.

That's not what's important here. The question is, why didn't I just say no instead of trying to physically get away from him and discourage him without having to actually talk about what was happening?

The answer's in the question itself. I didn't want to talk about what was happening.

Part of the Asian culture that I was raised in involves victim-blaming. If I had told him to stop it, I would've had to admit that he was doing something wrong, and then I would've had to examine my own behavior to see how I had caused it. If I kick him, leave the room, and then quit art class? I'm still not actually addressing the fact that hey, he's touching me, he's doing things to my body that I don't want, he is behaving like a jerk.

The next day, I had my boyfriend come into the classroom with me and sit with me. While my boyfriend was in the room, the 'friend' slid his hand onto my thigh (I was wearing shorts) and tried to feel me up.

I didn't tell my boyfriend what was happening. I just stood up.

And then I quit art.

I couldn't tell my parents why because they would've blamed me. I was the one who had chosen to take special after-school lessons, and my mother honestly believes that short skirts cause rape. My mother was rubbed up against by a guy on a bus for the entire ride home when she was a teenager, and she remained absolutely quiet and made no fuss until she got home, and then she started crying.

The Sri Lankan culture does not hold with 'making scenes'. I couldn't tell him no, because then I'd have to acknowledge what was happening. I'd have to make a scene. And that's simply not done. Even though I grew up in Europe, I still grew up inside a Sri Lankan household where if a man is taking liberties with you, it's because you've somehow signified you're open to them.

Who knows? Maybe I didn't kick him hard enough. Maybe I should've kicked him in the balls to show that I meant no.

Or maybe I should've just swallowed down a lifetime of being told to be a good, quiet little Asian who doesn't make waves and called him on it.

I was too scared to. Apart from my indoctrination into silence, I didn't know what would happen next. What if he denied anything was happening? What if he told everyone else that I'd accused him of molesting me and then laughed at the idea that he'd do anything like that with me? What if my parents found out about it?

So I kicked him, I pushed him away, I brought my boyfriend to show him that I was taken and not interested, and finally, when none of that worked, I quit art class.

But I never actually voiced the word 'no', or faced up to what was happening to me.

Strange as it may seem to some of the Western readers on my flist, I'm using this post to promote Sexual Assault Awareness concerning yourself.

It is YOUR body. You have a right to decide what other people do with it. If someone is making you uncomfortable, tell them 'Stop'. They are the ones in the wrong, not you. Facing that something bad is happening to you is infinitely preferable to trying to dodge around it, because as long as you can't stand your ground, they're going to keep pushing until they've backed you into a corner.

The last time someone groped me, I yelled at them to 'FUCK OFF OR I'LL BREAK YOUR HAND'. The man in question quickly sloped away.

No matter how shy you might be, how uncertain and scared, or how tied to a culture that keeps you very firmly passive, your body is still yours. And you are never the bad guy for telling someone that what they're doing to you is wrong. Never.