You want a trigger warning?  You got one.

Surf away if you don’t want to read the word “rape,” think about the act rape, or get a taste of my wrath directed at pearl-clutchers of convenience who gleefully report about rape all day long in the name of news, but are shocked, SHOCKED that rape might be mentioned in a comic strip.

No, not reruns of Peanuts, silly.  Doonesbury!

Good old Garry Trudeau is wading into the forced ultrasound wars with a series this week featuring the trials of a woman seeking an abortion in a conservative wonderland (or the early stages of the Republic of Gilead).  Trudeau told the Washington Post that to ignore the issue would be “comedy malpractice.”  Bless his feminist heart!

Above is today’s strip, cut from the print editions of the two dailies in my area, the Minneapolis StarTribune and the St Paul Pioneer Press.  I haven’t subscribed to either for many years, due in part to cost-cutting measures that sacrificed journalism in favor of really big type and the kind of salacious reporting that belongs in the pages of In Touch Weekly, not a newspaper (remember when the PiPress’s reporting on SlutWalk Minneapolis appeared in the shape of a woman’s sexy legs?  I sure do).  Thursday’s strip promises to feature a doctor annoucing “by the power invested in me by the GOP base, I thee rape.”

Ouch.

But when the papers themselves can’t control the narrative (rape=kinda sexy), the issue is suddenly controversial, too hot for print.  When Garry Trudeau likens a transvaginal ultrasound to rape, it’s “inappropriate.”  As David Brauer of MinnPost (an online news source staffed by canned Strib & PiPress employees) so astutely observes, children reading their parents’ papers are already being exposed to stories that detail rapes of kids their own age.  

But that’s news, the editorial boards would argue.  People have a right to know.  Following that logic, then, it can’t be controversial that readers have a right to know that transvaginal ultrasounds look like this:

…and that these ultrasound laws coming up for debate would require that women seeking abortions would be forced to endure this vaginal probing without their consent.

Sure sounds like rape to me.

A Pap smear is not rape, despite the suggestion of Janice Crouse of Concerned Women for America.  Just like Janice, I schedule Pap smears with licensed, trained professionals whom I trust.  Janice and I consent to the procedure, following the guidelines recommended by our doctors.  It’s not against the law to skip ‘em, though.  We have a choice in the matter.  When we get Paps, we say yes.*

But back to the pearl-clutchers of convenience populating the editorial boards of Twin Cities newspapers, suddenly so nervous about children.  THE CHILDREN!  MY GOD, THINK OF THE CHILDREN!

Give me a break.

The word “rape” should make people uncomfortable.  How are we going to stop it without talking about it?  How are we going to debate the politics of mandated vaginal ultrasounds without considering that, yes, the procedure looks and sounds an awful lot like rape?

A credible newspaper cannot reasonably claim that news articles on the rape of children (reported in much larger type than appears on the comics page) are somehow less damaging than a comic strip satire.  Pearls cannot be clutched only when it suits….The Suits.

The whole thing almost makes me want to start a subscription so I can cancel it in a huff.  Almost, but not quite!  Happily, these papers are dwindling into insignificance all on their own, due in large part to dumb decisions like this one.

You can keep up with Doonesbury online here: http://www.doonesbury.com/

* can you believe I’m still explaining this yes-means-yes, no-means-no shit?  I can’t, either. 

One year ago, Skirt! magazine published an essay of mine entitled “Love in the Time of Contraception.”  In the piece, I laid bare (pun intended) many sordid details from my love life to make the point that there is no sexual blunder more embarrassing than ignorance….and that includes having to ask your boyfriend to retrieve a Today sponge gone rogue in your lady parts.

Rereading the essay, I find myself cringing once more at the stubborn persistence of America’s Puritanical values.  I wish my European forebears had thought to resettle in the British colony settled by criminals, not uptight prudes.  Fleeing famine and/or conscription leaves one with limited choices, I realize, but I have to believe that my great-great-greats would have preferred their descendants to spend Good Friday frolicking on sandy beach instead of heading out to show solidarity for a legal, but beleaguered and threatened, facility that performs legal procedures and dispenses legal medications.

This picture was taken on Good Friday seven years ago, not long before I gave birth to my daughter.  Yep, I’ve been involved in pro-choice activism for a long time, and I’m committed to it.  I’m a realist, and I know that the anti-choicers won’t go away.  I didn’t assume that one day I wouldn’t have to show up–I assumed that one day I’d be out in St. Paul with a pair of teenagers, demonstrating our support for safe, legal abortion, on demand and without apology.

But here we are in 2012, and I cannot believe I just might have to fight for their right to contraception!

Remember contraception?  The stuff that makes controversial procedures like abortions unnecessary? (Duhhh.)

Isn’t it our right as Americans to be embarrassed by slimy sponges?  To go soft at the crinkling sound of the condom wrapper?  To take a pill that makes you a hysterical, bloated mess, so on edge that no one wants to have sex with you anyway (or is that just me?)….?!

But it’s come to that.  And now, millions of moms who wouldn’t have dragged their kids to Planned Parenthood in the past are being jolted into action.

Of course, none other than reknowned slut (four wives) and prostitute (uses his big fucking mouth for money) Rush Limbaugh doesn’t believe that there are such things as Birth Control Moms.  Sayeth he:

Isn’t that kind of contradictory? A birth control mom? How do you become a mom if you’re into birth control?

Well, duh.  You use condoms so you don’t become a 19-year-old parent with a boyfriend who is a manipulative asshole.  Or you use sponges AND condoms so you don’t become a 22-year-old parent with a boyfriend who is much nicer than the old one, but who still has a few mental health issues to clear up.  Et cetera.

Get the idea?  The clinic is called PLANNED Parenthood for a reason.  Parenting is a job too important to leave either to chance or to anyone too young to run for Congress.*

(Rush also said some not-very-nice things about a contraceptive fan named Sandra Fluke, but you know that already.)

Are YOU a pissed-off Birth Control Mom?  Are you looking to do more than spread Santorum jokes and bemoan our country’s flight back to the Bad Old Days?  Good Friday is April 6, right around the corner–there’s probably a family planning clinic in your neighborhood that could use your voice for reproductive freedom.  If you’re in the Twin Cities, please say hi to me at the event in St. Paul.  I’ll be accompanied by my two PLANNED children, and I’ll be saying this:

If your clinic isn’t planning a solidarity action, why not send them a bouquet of flowers (with your donation check, natch) to thank them for the fine work they’re doing?  Find a location at www.plannedparenthood.org.

*Dear younger readers: please don’t bother writing with the admonition that you are doing a better job than say, Bristol Palin, Snooki, or my own parental units, who spawned me at the tender age of 21.  I think we all can agree that it would be preferable for children to be raised by grownups who’ve been slutty, had their hearts broken a few times, visited New York City, etc. and have the acquired wisdom that such experience implies.

President Obama, December  8, 2011:

As the father of two daughters, I think it is important for us to make sure that we apply some common sense to various rules when it comes to over-the-counter medicine. As I understand it, the reason Kathleen [Sebelius] made this decision was she could not be confident that a 10-year old or an 11-year old going to a drug store should be able alongside bubble gum or batteries be able to buy a medication that potentially if not used properly could end up having an adverse effect. And I think most parents would probably feel the same way….

The Radical Housewife, October 5, 2010:

Contemplating our children as sexual beings feels creepy; we don’t want to do it.

Would I want know if my daughter wanted an abortion? Of course. Every parenting decision I make is guided by my desire to build trust and respect in our family. I would want to know about her abortion; I would want to know about her pregnancy; I would want to know that she was sexually active. Do I have the right to all of this information? No. I work to earn her trust, but I can’t force her to give it to me.

No law can force a trusting relationship that doesn’t exist. Even the American Academy of Pediatrics supports this view, stating that “legislation mandating parental involvement does not achieve the intended benefit of promoting family communication, but it does increase the risk of harm to the adolescent by delaying access to appropriate medical care.”

Jezebel.com, December 6, 2011:

Lyrics by Khalil Gibran, from The Prophet (emphasis mine).

They come through you, but not from you.
And yet they are with you, they belong not to you.
You may give them your love, but not your thoughts.
They have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies, but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them just like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

This post was inspired by Hillary Adams, the young woman who videotaped her abuse at the hands of her parents, Texas county judge William Adams and his former wife Hallie Adams.  It is dedicated to parents everywhere who might believe, even for a moment, that they have the “right” to hurt their children.

It is also dedicated to abolishing the belief that children “belong” to anyone but themselves.

For further information or to get help:

Tubman Family Alliance

Men as Peacemakers

Prevent Child Abuse Minnesota

Jacob Wetterling Foundation

Does that make sense now?

Is that simple enough?

It better be, for I no longer have any interest whatsoever in defending the words “slut” or “SlutWalk.”  Really.  I’m done.  One more interview with the college kid who wrote me this morning and THAT’S IT.

Right now I’m in triage mode.  Sexual assault survivors I know are hurt.  They feel attacked, and for good reason.  They are triggered.  I am triggered, observing them.  Just because I haven’t experienced rape today, doesn’t mean I won’t tomorrow.  No woman can say she’s out from under the shadow of rape culture for as long as she lives.

Conservative estimates (via RAINN) guess that a person is sexually assaulted in the United States every two seconds.  By the time I finish this post, there will be …  christ, who am I kidding?  Untold numbers of people–sisters, mothers, daughters, brothers, sons–will experience sexual violence at the rate I’m going.

Eldridge Cleaver said that if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.  I hate to get all binary, but that’s what happens when I’m pissed off.

So which are you?  A solution?  A problem?  If you’re not sure, ask around.  One of your friends is a rape survivor: ask her.  Ask what she was wearing when she was assaulted.  What she was doing.  What she’d been drinking and how much.  Ask how she’d feel if a discussion on the merits SlutWalk degenerated into a referendum on how her recovery from her rape is going.

Go ahead, ask!

I’ll wait.

In the meantime, I’ll remind you that I’m not so far up on my high horse that I cannot accept criticism.  Far from it–as a Privileged White Woman, learning from others is my job!  I’m serious!  PWW isn’t a label I reject.  How can I reject something that’s true?  I mean, have you SEEN me?

Have you heard back from your survivor friend yet?  The RAINN clock is ticking, you know.

Aishah Shahidah Simmons said in her address to the participants of SlutWalk Philadelphia, “as strange as it may seem today, I’m sure some, if not many people [once] took the position ‘what do you mean take back the night? You shouldn’t be out at night!’”  Will SlutWalks last forever?  I have no idea.  Nor do I care!

We won’t always agree, and we shouldn’t.  A movement like that would be too boring for words–even words like “slut” and “SlutWalk.”

JUST LEAVE THE SURVIVORS THE HELL ALONE.

Now.

Please.

Thank you.

That about sums up what I just told a reporter seeking my comments on an invented controversy swirling around the upcoming SlutWalk Minneapolis.  In a twist on what Jessica Valenti famously requested of the Morning Joe crew on MSNBC, I inquired of this reporter: “Minnesota NOW has supported Take Back the Night marches in the past, but you didn’t call me for comment about those, did you?”  Um, no.

I also told him that reappropriating the word “slut” isn’t new–Kathleen Hanna was doing it nearly twenty years ago.

In 2000, Gloria Steinem was asked by BUST’s Debbie Stoller (aka Celina Hex) what she thought of the ’90s riot grrrl movement.  Steinem said, ”I was really fascinated by it and applauded it…[but] it’s true that older feminists don’t always recognize feminism when it comes in a different form.”

The reporter I spoke with today asked if I wouldn’t mind sharing my age and generation identification.  ”I’m 39,” I answered, a Free to Be…You & Me baby and riot grrrl Third Waver sandwiched between the Second Wave and the new breed of feminist online networkers.  There’s plenty I can learn from both of these groups of people, but I would never in a million years be so arrogant as to assume that THEY have something to learn from ME.  ”The more we listen to one another,” I told the reporter, “the more we can get beyond words and move towards action.”

After all, a word (A WORD!) on Kathleen’s stomach didn’t end rape or rape culture, did it?

This is a picture of my son on his eleventh birthday. He and his sister (and his cousin, not pictured) wore orange so we could identify them in the chaos that is the amusement park inside the Mall of America.