What will the thousands of young women who may read Palin’s memoir think of her description of that night and the shame she felt afterward? The scene she describes is sad and, at least in her telling, seemingly nonconsensual and traumatic. Not calling it assault — and blaming herself, as she does in the book — sends a dangerous message to young women who may have similar experiences. (It broke my heart a bit to read that Palin felt she “sinned” and now she “had” to marry Johnston.)
Perhaps, though, the book — which is very much about run-of-the-mill high school stuff such as sports, family and petty jealousies — and Palin’s self-blame can teach us a lesson. Despite the spotlight Palin was thrust into, her memoir tells the story of a very normal girl. And sadly, what she describes is a fairly normal, though horrible, experience. Her reaction is normal, too.
Palin hasn’t made any direct accusations, but she is being criticized in much the same way rape victims often are. Our culture is so intent on blaming victims that you don’t even have to use the word “rape” to be shamed for speaking up. She is accused of being opportunistic and of lying about what happened to throw sympathy her way and bolster her image as a “good girl.”
Popular sex columnist Dan Savage has written that he doesn’t believe Bristol’s account (though he’s careful to write that it’s not because he thinks “boys like Levi” are incapable of rape). “Bristol’s story . . . is the kind of self-exonerating [nonsense] that scared teenagers offer up to parents and other authority figures when it’s just their good-girl reputations and saving-myself-for-marriage self-images that are on the line.” Savage also points out that Palin has “a paycheck to worry about” from her abstinence speaking gig.
I don’t know what the truth is, but I do know that Palin deserves the same respect as any woman speaking out about her experience, no matter what she calls it. We shouldn’t point to her past publicity or what she has to “gain” by lying, because that’s exactly what’s done to rape victims the world over, again and again.
We live in a country where, according to Justice Department statistics, nearly a quarter of a million people are sexually assaulted every year — nearly half of whom are under 18 years old, and most of whom know their attacker. Women are blamed for rape when they dress a certain way or when they drink; and when sexual assault happens, it’s often not called as much. This year, for example, the House of Representatives was forced to drop language from an anti-abortion bill that would allow only victims of “forcible rape” to access federal funds for abortion after activists pointed out that all rape is “forcible.” The latest trend in misnaming sexual assault is calling some rape “gray rape,” as if being assaulted weren’t a black-and-white issue.
Using accurate language when describing the violence done to women is imperative — it helps to raise awareness of just how often assault happens, it takes away some of the shame and the stigma, and it leads to more cases being reported and fewer women being blamed. The sad fact is, not calling your experience rape does not protect you from the trauma of it. If survivors are going to suffer, they should not do it in silence.
Sexual experiences shouldn’t feel “stolen.” Young women need to know that if they didn’t want to have sex, and if they didn’t say yes, then what happened to them was wrong and illegal. And even if they don’t want to call it rape, that’s what it was.
If Palin were to speak out unequivocally about her experience, she could make a tremendous difference in the lives of assault victims by making it clear that rape is rape, whether it happens in a hotel room, in an alley or in a tent in Alaska.
Jessica Valenti, the founder of Feministing.com, is the author of “The Purity Myth: How America’s Obsession With Virginity Is Hurting Young Women” and the forthcoming “Why Have Kids?: The Truth About Parenting and Happiness.”
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