The terrifying story of Elliot Rodger, the 22-year-old man who went on a killing spree in Santa Barbara that's left six (and Rodger himself) dead along with 13 injured has gripped the nation, and understandably so. The harrowing story surfaces some of society's most complicated issues including gun violence and mental illness, while raising questions—again—about what it will take to curb an undeniable rise in mass-shooting tragedies.
This is also a story deeply rooted in misogyny—in its ugliest, rawest and most haunting form. In a video made just before the rampage, Rodger openly admitted that he was motivated to kill because women rebuffed his sexual advances.
In response to the tragedy's sexist underpinnings, the hashtag #YesAllWomen has provided a powerful conduit for women to share their own experiences with misogyny and foster awareness of how prevalent—and societally sanctioned—female fear really is.
Here at Ravishly, we decided to deepen the conversation further by sharing stories from some of our own writers here. Some memories were too painful to share openly, including one writer who talked about a high school rape, and her gut-pummeling reactions to hearing casual rape jokes ever since.
As women, we're often taught to downplay misogyny, so as not to come across as angry, irrational, overly-sensitive, man-hating "feminists" (in the negative-connotation sense of the word). We wanted to step into the fray and behind a hashtag—this discussion desperately needed a public, digital forum—that asks us to stop downplaying misogyny, and start fighting it.
#YesAllWomen. ALL WOMEN.
Giana
Last fall, I agreed to go on a date with a bartender. He convinced me to ride in his car, then locked the doors and proceeded to change in front of me. When I didn't look at him, he got visibly angry with me. He led me to a bar, expressed his anger at me for not appreciating his body, then held a dulled switchblade to my neck. His excuse? "If you had actually watched me change, you would have seen that I wear it on a chain under my shirt." He felt entitled to receive such attention from me, and demonstrated violence when I denied it. I was terrified—was I supposed to run away? What if he followed me? How dull was the knife really?
I closed my mouth tightly while he kissed me because I was honestly afraid he'd kill me if I didn't let him at least touch me. I ran away to a male friend's house, and pretended everything was OK because, deep down, I was afraid that my friend would take my date's side.
#YesAllWomen
Nikki
The moment I return to is a situation all too familiar to women: a time in college when a guy was pressuring me to have sex when I really didn't want to. I remember sitting in bed with my arms wrapped around my legs, asking him repeatedly to leave. First, he said, "You know, most guys don't like girls who are virgins." ("I'm not a virgin because men like it," I said back.) And then, before finally exiting, he had this to say: "So I kind of told my friends about this. Is it OK if I tell them we had sex, even though we'll know we didn't?" I was worried for weeks after that he told everyone in the dorm, and they would think I was a slut (I never did find out for sure).
Later, I started telling this story for laughs, because it's just so ridiculous. But really, it's not funny at all. Misogyny is never funny.
#YesAllWomen
Kate
What disturbs me most deeply about this tragedy is how it ties in with my own history of pissing men off by "withholding" intimacy. When I've put men in the "friend zone," there's the assumption that given enough time, energy and effort, my mind can be swayed. Sometimes it goes further; words like “crazy”, “bitch” and “prude” can get involved, all with the underlying theme that it's all just a game to me; that obviously I want to sleep with this person, and I’m just being particularly difficult about it.
What’s always frustrated me most about this is that it doesn’t just assign women the stereotype of being "teases"; men also become Neanderthals, incapable of intellect (“Why would you ask advice from a guy?”), unable to feel purpose without their dick being involved (“So we’re literally just gonna...hang out?”) and primal in the worst possible way (“All I heard was something-something-something, you secretly want me”). The disconnect that exists in how our youth sexually relate to each other is becoming a breeding ground for hate and sadness.
#YesAllWomen
Katie
This French girlfriend of mine was a photographer and brought me to a BBQ a couple years ago in Brooklyn, where I was introduced to another French (male) photographer. He was excessively flattering, asking me if I would like to be photographed. I looked over some of his work—it was racy stuff but beautifully done. I decided, fuck it, I'm not gonna look this good forever, it'd be fun to have some sexy shots of myself. I agreed and headed over on a blustery fall afternoon.
Almost immediately upon walking into the room, I thought to myself, "You're an idiot. You've agreed to let some stranger photograph you half naked alone in his apartment—this is all some, like, elaborate, horrible masturbation exercise for him." Instead of turning on my heel and walking right out, I was embarrassed at my own inability to "feel comfortable" and was possessed with this vague—but compelling—sensation that I couldn't "back out on my word."
After an hour or so we were finally finished. As I gathered my stuff to hug goodbye he reached out and pinched my nipple. I almost threw up in my mouth from rage and humiliation, but instead I laughed, like "oh you naughty Frenchman!" and traipsed out the door. I never told my boyfriend about it or my friends because I felt so pathetic.
He never even sent me any of the photographs and I never confronted him about what he did. It still makes my stomach churn. This fear of making men feel "bad" for their behavior is so dangerous and damaging, yet permeates so much of the female psyche.
