I know this is a touchy subject and I’m not likely to make many friends here, but I really don’t see what was so wrong with what Miss Nevada/Miss USA Nia Sanchez said about women and self-defense.
“I believe that some colleges may potentially be afraid of having a bad reputation and that would be a reason it could be swept under the rug, because they don’t want that to come out into the public,”Nia Sanchez said. “But I think more awareness is very important so women can learn how to protect themselves. Myself, as a fourth-degree black belt, I learned from a young age that you need to be confident and be able to defend yourself. And I think that’s something that we should start to really implement for a lot of women.”
The Twitter-rage was instantaneous. She only strengthened the Rape Culture. She blames the victim. We should be teaching rapists not to rape, not women to defend themselves. And on and on.
Now, it’s stupid that I even need to say this, but there seem to be a lot of people out there who will not assume this unless I say it: I believe rape is wrong. Men should not rape women. Women should not rape men. Everyone should treat each other kindly. And you are right, we shouldn’t need to defend ourselves.
But until we figure out how to get humanity to improve itself, there are still rapists out there, and which do you really think is going to be more effective in deterring them from raping:
1. Telling them you shouldn’t have to defend yourself against the likes of them.
2. Causing them intense pain and getting away while they’re distracted, calling the police and getting them arrested if possible.
I know which I’d rather my daughter know how to do. It’s hard to imagine a more effective deterrent than, you know, being able to deter it rather than wishing it away.
I’m all for teaching rapists not to rape. But truth be told, I’ve only known two rapists in my life, and neither one of them announced their intentions to me before hand so that I could teach them not to. All the other men I’ve known in my life were successfully taught not to rape before I even entered the picture. And yet there are still men out there who rape women. Someone is not doing their job of teaching them not to do that, and I can only assume they’re not going to teach themselves. Hashtags, oddly enough, haven’t gotten through to them, either.
And so, whether or not a women should ever have to defend herself is irrelevant. And don’t forget mugging and assault. Human beings, because we live among human beings, may at some point or another need to defend themselves against people intent on doing something they should have been taught not to do. No, it does not make it their target’s fault at all if they are unable to defend themselves or fail at doing so, but not being at fault doesn’t make it hurt any less, either. If I can reduce the pain and suffering my daughter might experience by teaching her to defend herself, why wouldn’t I?
If you know there is a danger out there, why wouldn’t you take steps to minimize or avoid that danger? Why do we teach defensive driving, put children in car seats, and pass seatbelt laws if the solution is to teach people not to harm other people? If it doesn’t make everything okay to insist that drivers shouldn’t run into other people’s cars, why does it make sense to insist that men shouldn’t rape women, while doing nothing to help women protect themselves?
Yes, I know, that’s not an entirely apt analogy. The vast majority of drivers are not purposely intending to run into people. But a significant number of those who cause accidents could have taught themselves or been taught not to drive in a way that would endanger others. Most drivers should have had some training specifically designed to help them not run into other cars. I’m pretty sure the vast majority of bad driving I see every day was not taught, but rather in spite of proper teaching.
And yet clearly just teaching people not to drive badly is not enough. Innocent people still get hit. And yet no one is wringing their hands about our Wreck Culture and insisting that all drivers from Utah are a menace and need to be taught not to run into cars (Okay, Idahoans might be). No one is suggesting that people shouldn’t go out and buy cars rated high in crash safety tests because they shouldn’t have to even worry about wrecks. And if we’re not doing that in situations when bad things can happen accidentally, why would we in cases where bad things happen intentionally?
Look, let’s do what we can to teach rapists not to rape. But let’s also be a little bit practical and admit that even if we do find a fail-proof way of accomplishing that, it’s still going to take time. If we can at least reduce the number of women who are harmed in the mean time, how could that not be a good thing?
At the very least, let’s not beat up on someone just because they are looking at other options. For heaven sake, you’d think Ms. Sanchez had advocated for equipping rapists with baseball bats, Rohypnol, and zip-ties. At least she’s considering something practical. Just wishing the problem didn’t exist isn’t practical, and isn’t going to make it go away. Opposing women learning to defend themselves will teach rapists something, all right, but it’s not the lesson we want them to learn.
Yes, your analogy is a wee clunky, but I totally agree with the sentiment. Its up to us parents to teach our boys AND our girls appropriate to their roles and personalities. Even my 7yo girl understands that sometimes people put each other into physical situations that are aggressive and abusive. She does not live in a state of fear, but of awareness. Once my boy evolves beyond being sound covered in mud, he will learn to keep his grubby paws off people who don’t invite being touched.
This is quite long, but worthy of a read. It embodies several good lessons on humanity. Minor editing for ease of reading was performed.
“The girl approached me.
She wore a long gown, white. She threw back the hood. She shook loose the long, blond hair.
“I have been a fool,” I said. “I have come to the north, thinking you slain. I had come north, in fury, tricked, to avenge you.”
It was near dusk. She faced me. “It was necessary,” she said.
“Speak,” I told her.
The islet of Vars is roughly a hundred foot, square. It is rough, but, on the whole, flat. It rises some fifteen to twenty feet from the water. It is grayish rock, bleak, up thrust, igneous, forbidding.
We stood alone, facing one another.
“Are you unarmed?” she asked.
“Yes,” I told her.
“I have arranged this meeting,” she said.
“Speak,” I told her.
“It is not I,” she smiled, “who wish to speak to you.”
“I had supposed as much,” I said. “Does Samos know of this?” I asked.
“He knows nothing,” she said.
“You are acting, then, independently?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, drawing herself up, beautifully. I wondered if she were wise, to stand so beautifully before a warrior.
“You fled my house,” I said. “You returned to the marshes.”
She tossed her head. “You sought Talena,” she said.
“Talena, once,” I said, “was my companion.”
Telima shrugged. She looked at me, irritably. I had for-gotten how beautiful she was.
“When I, in the hall of Samos, before leaving for the northern forests to seek Talena, learned of your flight, I wept.”
“Always,” she said, “you were weak.” Then she said, “We have more important things to discuss.”
I regarded her.
“In the marshes,” she said, “I was contacted by Kurii.” She looked at me. “They desire peace,” she said.
I smiled.
“It is true,” she said, angrily. “Doubtless,” she said, “you find it difficult to believe. But they are sincere. There has been war for centuries. They weary of strife. They need an envoy, one known to Priest-Kings, yet one independent of them, one whom they respect, a man of valiance and judgment, with whom to negotiate, one to carry their proposals to Priest-Kings.”
“I thought you knew little of these matters,” I said.
“What little I know,” said Telima, “is more than enough. In the marshes was I contacted by a mighty Kur, but one courteous, one strong and gentle. It would be difficult to speak directly with you. It would be difficult to begin this work if Overlords understood our enterprise.”
“And so,” I said, “you pretended to be slain in the marshes. A Kur was seen. Your screams were heard. A bloodied arm-let, bloodied hair, was found on the Marsh-weeds. The Kur departed north. I, as expected, informed of this deed, took pursuit.”
“And now,” she smiled, “you are here. It is the first act in the drama wherewith peace will be purchased between war-ring peoples.”
“Your plan,” said I, “was brilliant.”
In the gown, long and white, flowing, Telima straightened, glowing.
“Your raiment,” said I, “is of high quality. There is little like that in the marsh.”
“The Kurii, misunderstood,” she said, “are a gentle people. They have treated me as an Empress.”
I looked now beyond Telima. I saw now, head first, then shoulders, then body, a Kur, climbing to the surface of the islet. It was large, even for a Kur, some nine feet in height. Its weight, I conjectured, was some eight or nine hundred pounds. Its arms were some seven feet m length. About its left arm was a spiral band of gold. It carried, on its shoulder, a large, long, flattish object, wrapped in purple cloth, dark in the dusk. I knew the Kur. It had been he who had addressed the assembly. It had been he who had been first in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth, the night of the attack. It had been he who had rallied the Kurii in the raid on their camp, in the ensuing battle. It had been he, doubtless a Kur from the steel worlds themselves, who had commanded the Kurii army, who had been the leader of their forces.
I inclined my head to it. “We have met before, have we not?” I asked.
The Kur rested back on its haunches, some twenty feet from me. It laid the large, flattish object, wrapped in dark cloth, on the stone before him.
“May I present,” inquired Telima, “Rog, emissary of peace from the Kurii.”
“Are you Tarl Cabot?” asked the beast.
“Yes,” I said.
“Have you come unarmed?” it asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“We have sought you before,” it said, “once in Port Kar, by poison.”
“Yes,” I said.
“That attempt failed,” it said.
“That is true,” I said.
He unwrapped the object which lay before him. “The woman has told you my name is Rog. That is sufficient. Yet my true name could not be pronounced in your mouth. Yet, you shall hear it.” It then, regarding me, uttered a sound, a modulated emanation from the cords in its throat, which I could not duplicate. It was not a human noise. “That,” it said, “is whom you face. It is unfortunate that you do not know the ways of Kurii, or the dynasties of our clans. In my way, to use concepts you may grasp, I am a prince among my people, not only in blood, but by battle, for in such a way only does one become prince among the Kurii. I have been trained in leadership, and have, in assuming such a leadership, killed for the rings. I say this that you may understand that it is much honor that is done to you. The Kurii know you, and, though you are a human, an animal, this honor they do to you.”
He now lifted the object from the cloth. It was a Kur ax, its handle some eight feet in length, the broad head better than two feet in sharpened width.
“You are a brilliant foe,” said I. “I have admired your strategies, your efficiency and skills. The rally at the camp, misdirecting our attention by a diversion, was masterful. That you should stand first among such beasts as Kurii says much for your worth, the terribleness of your power, your intellect. Though I am only human, neither Kur nor Priest–King, I give you salute.”
“I wish,” it said, “Tarl Cabot, I had known you better.”
It stood there, then, the ax in its right fist. Telima, eyes wide with horror, screamed. With his left paw the beast brushed her, rolling and sprawling, twenty feet across the stone.
It lifted the ax, now over its right shoulder, gripping it in both hands.
“Had you known me better,” said I, “you would not have come to the islet.”
The ax drew back to the termination of its arc, ready for the flashing, circular, flattish sweep that would cut me in two. Then the beast stopped, puzzled. Scarcely had it seen the flash of horse-clan steel, the saddle knife, its blade balanced, nine inches in length, which had slipped from my sleeve, turned, and, hurled, struck him. It tottered, eyes wild, not understanding, then understanding, the hilt protruding from its chest, stopped only by the guard, the blade fixed in the vast eight-valved heart. It took two steps forward. Then it fell, the ax clattering on the stone. It rolled on its back. Long ago, at a banquet in Turia, Kamchak of the Horse-clans had taught me this trick. Where one may not go armed, there it is well to go armed.
The huge chest shook. I saw it rise and fall. Its eyes turned toward me.
“I thought,” it said, “humans were honorable.”
“You are mistaken,” I said.
It reached out its paw toward me. “Foe,” it said. “Yes,” I said. The paw gripped me, and I it. Long ago, in the Sardar mountains, Misk, the Overlord, had told me that Overlords see little difference between Kurii and men, that they regarded them as equivalent species.
The lips of the Kur drew back. I saw the fangs. It was, I suppose, a frightening expression, terrifying, but I did not see it that way.
It was a Kur smile.
Then it died.”