I’m going to be continuing this week on the issue of Brock Turner, rapist.
Because it’s not just about the felon Brock Turner, convicted rapist. There is a whole lot of fault in this story, and a few people who got it right. And it plays out the same way around the country – and around the world – over and over again.
Before we begin, I again admonish you to go and read anal polyp Brock Turner’s victim’s powerful and moving victim impact statement she made to the court before sentencing. As always, what she has to say matters more than what I or what anyone who has not been in her position has to say. Read. Her. Words.
As we are almost completely the perpetrators of rape (not to minimize the impact of men and boys who have been raped by women, but rather the frequency), much of this post is meant for men. This is a post about choices, and rape inherently removes the option of choice from its victim. Nobody chooses to be raped. It is an act of force, it is by its very nature a denial of sentience, of consent.
As men, we have choices.
In this, we can be sewer-pus Brock Turner, rapist, we can be his father Dan Turner, the enabler, we can be Judge Aaron Persky, the excuser, or we can be the Swedes, who did the right thing.
Be the Swedes.
Shoe full of vomit Brock Turner is a rapist, and a predator. He got drunk, and then after trying to kiss several women at a party and being rejected (including the rape victim’s own sister), he found the drunkest woman there, and targeted her.
Allow us to be clear – the victim being drunk is not a justification of her rape. It did not enable her participation. In fact, it removed her ability to consent. As she says in her statement, she was the “sick antelope.” Predator Brock Turner was the rapey lion. He saw her, and he saw an opportunity – not to do the right thing, not to make sure she was safe, but to impose his shitty little will on her. They were walking together. The victim fell down because she was drunk. And he raped her.
At trial, rather than blame himself, he blamed alcohol consumption – both his and hers.
That’s what a Brock does. Don’t be a Brock – the whole goddamned world hates skid-mark Brock.
Then there’s Dan. Dan Turner is Brock’s father. It’s natural to want to protect your children – but part of protecting your children is arming them in the first fucking place with the tools to not listen to their howling scrotum, and instead listen to the women with whom they would like to sleep. Dan never did that, clearly. Instead, after cow-farm runoff Brock committed a rape, he went all-out. He paid for an expensive lawyer and private investigator to turn the victim’s life inside out. He made sure that she was dragged through the mud, making sure she was painted as a drunken slut who ruined his sweet-but-intoxicated little Brock Dogshit Turner. Instead of saying “What the fuck, Brock, you vile little mistake,” he said “we’re going to fix this. Go start talking to high school kids about drinking and sexual promiscuity. Drinking is the problem. You are not a rapist.”
And then, after worse-than-Kim-Jong-Il Brock Turner was convicted on three counts of being a goddamned rapist, Dan had the temerity to send a letter to the judge claiming that his genetically and socially fucking deficient ejaculation Brock had never been violent – EVEN ON THE NIGHT OF THE RAPE HE WAS CONVICTED OF COMMITTING.
Don’t be a Dan. Dan’s an asshole, and he makes crusty-undies Brocks.
Then there’s Judge Aaron Persky. Elected (for now) Judge Persky, who was himself once an elite athlete at Stanford, where ingrown-backhair Brock Turner was also once an elite athlete, sentenced the thrice convicted rapist to six months in the county jail. For a crime with a minimum sentence of a year in prison in California. In doing so, he lamented catch-rag Brock’s loss of a scholarship, noted his intoxication as a mitigating factor, and stated that prison would have a “severe impact” on brimstone-smelling Brock.
Isn’t that the goddamned point?
Don’t be a Judge Persky. He creates more victims and makes it harder for the women who have been victimized to come forward and prosecute their cases.
And then there are the Swedes.
Bicycling by the scene of the crimes, Swedish graduate students noticed a man running away from a woman who was undressed and unresponsive. They chased what we now know to be legitimate-fucking-rapist Brock Turner down, tackled his raping ass, held him until help arrived for his victim and the police arrived for him.
They saw something was not right. They acted to prevent it from continuing. And they helped the victim.
Be a Swede, fellas. Be a Swede.
I wish there had been a Swede inside that party. One who saw that she was in no state to consent, and hung out to prevent her rape from happening. I wish there had been one dude who saw her and said “she’s not safe. Let me make sure she stays ok.” If there had been a Swede, maybe we would never have learned of worst-person-in-America Brock Turner, rapist. Or his enabling father, Dan. Or his wrist-slapping judge Aaron Persky.
Maybe there never would have been a victim, raped behind a dumpster, and left for some Swedes to rescue.
Be a Swede, fellas. Please. Be a Swede.