When I got to college the first thing I wanted to do was join a fraternity, so when I got the opportunity to join a fraternity I did. I quickly became best friends with another guy in my fraternity and to say we did everything together would be an understatement. I couldn't imagine having a better bro.Being a part of a fraternity meant that we were required to go to sexual assault education sessions.




In class last night, we had a discussion on intimate relationships. It included everything from things people tend to list as important qualities in a partner to trust and satisfaction to power dynamics. A classmate in the back of class with me made a statement about his opinions on trusting his partner. "It's not her that I don't trust, it's the guys around her." All this seemed well and good, until he continued with, "Sometimes girls just don't think to fight back."

Enter rage.

I confronted him, "What did you just say?"


I was at a college party with a friend and didn't know anyone else there. The host, "Anna", was very drunk by the time I had arrived, only making brief appearances between trips to the bathroom and her bedroom. I heard commotion outside Anna's bedroom door. A few guys were standing outside the door. They were laughing about how easy it would be for "Andrew" to "get laid", because Anna was "blacked out." They were standing guard of the door, as many people stood around laughing or seemingly unaffected by what was happening. I felt uncomfortable.


In 10th grade I met BG. BG always made inappropriate sexist, homophobic, and racist comments. We had many mutual classes and friends so I saw and heard him a lot. I knew BG's comments were wrong but I chose not to say something in fear of upsetting my new friends. One day at lunch, I had just come from my law class and we were learning about rape and sexual assault. People were not paying attention during class, so my teacher had cried out "the penis is a weapon" to get her point across.


I was on the bus one day, sitting behind an annoying boy and two seats behind a girl, whom the boy was talking to. She was not particularly interested in talked to this boy, but he was not satisfied with leaving her alone. He began poking, tapping, and pulling this girls hair. The girl told him to stop, persistently, but he would not. Although he was not touching her in a sexual way, she did not want to be touched, and I can imagine she felt violated. So I told him to stop, quite loudly, but not in a mean way, and lo and behold he stopped.


Here is my story of a small action -- only an "evil stare" to interrupt rape culture. And this story shows how just saying where we work may make a difference. This story appears in my blog. This took place sometime in the mid-1980s while I was giving blood. As I was laying down with the needle in my arm, the male nurse asked me what I did for work.


My ten year old son is a playground social activist. He reported to me that for two days the boys in his class were playing a game they named "rapist". Game is basically tag - you run up to someone, touch them, and say "I raped you." Then a new rapist is it. So my son tells me he told the boys they needed to change the name of the game because it was inappropriate. Awesome! He does this two days in a row followed by telling the teacher on duty - who sad to say fails to respond.