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Creep of the Week

The 50 senators who voted to confirm Brett Kavanaugh

sexual assault
Written by DAnne Witkowski

If you’ve ever wanted to commit sexual assault, now is your chance. I mean, has there ever been a better time, especially for men assaulting women? We are in the midst of the Kavanaugh “window” where accusations of sexual assault, no matter how credible, are believed.

After all, any woman accusing any man, especially any powerful man, face accusation of jumping on the #MeToo bandwagon.

So get your on ‘sault. And, honestly, the weirder the better. Sexual assault is shame-inducing and demoralizing all on its own, but if you make the experience extra embarrassing then that makes it even less likely to be reported at all! Not that you have to worry, because people won’t believe her even if she does report it.

You could do something really crazy like ask her, “Who has put pubic hair on my Coke [can]?” Or tell her that you want to rub her [expletive] with a falafel. Shout out to Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas and celebrity “news” host Bill O’Reilly who both were accused of those very things respectively. And terrible things happened to them like (checklist) confirmed to the Supreme Court and outlandish sums for pretending to be a journalist. Harsh!

Or maybe you committed a smidge or two of sexual assault in your past, say, as a young child of 17 who couldn’t have possibly known that trying to have sex with a girl who didn’t want to have sex with you was in any way wrong. Well, you’re in luck, too, because attempted rape doesn’t count if it happened while in high school. (It’s also super helpful to be white and rich.)

Now, if you’re a man and you want to assault other males sexually — well, that is not recommended, but who knows? Maybe sexual assault tides raise sexual assault boats. Then again, some men tend to take that marginal sort of thing more seriously, or at least are less concerned about punishing a homo than, you know, a “normal” guy who rapes.

If I seem angry, then sorry, but not sorry BECAUSE I AM ANGRY, AND YES I AM YELLING.

With Brett Kavanaugh confirmed to the Supreme Court, where he and Clarence Thomas can drink all the Cokes they want as they vote to take away a woman’s right to make decisions about her own body, by a president who has himself been accused of sexual assault and harassment many times over and who was caught on tape bragging about grabbing women “by the pussy,” we are saying to sexually assaulted women and men, “You do not matter. We do not see you, we do not hear you, we do not care.”

#HimToo is trending on Twitter. The idea is that men are the real victims. Men have to live in constant fear of false accusations. In reality, men are much more likely to be sexually assaulted than falsely accused. The idea that women make this stuff up for attention is insane. But it’s a lot easier to believe that than to actually address America’s systemic rape culture problem.

Thankfully if you search for #HimToo on Twitter you find mostly Tweets that begin with “This is my son” — with pictures of people who are, in fact, not the users’ sons, in order to mock a purported post by a mother who Tweeted a picture of her son in a sailor suit and claimed that “he won’t go on solo dates due to the current climate of false sexual accusations by radical feminists with an ax to grind. I VOTE.” The responses are truly hilarious.

And, man, I need to laugh because I feel like breaking something. But I can’t come up with anything worth breaking compared to democracy. America is broken. And as far as I can tell, this break isn’t going to ever fully heal. I’m not saying America will never walk again. But if we ever get back on our feet, we will always have a noticeable limp.

We will always have a reminder of what happened when we were careless. When we were cruel. Or when we didn’t #BelieveWomen. When we didn’t #BelieveSurvivors. And when we went home with the drunkest guy at the party — the guy who’d spent the night boasting about sexual assault, making fun of disabled people, praising Nazis, and gambling with other people’s money — handed him the keys and said, “I’ll sleep while you drive.”

Wake. Up. And. Vote. Everything and everyone depends on it.

D’Anne Witkowski is a poet, writer and comedian living in Michigan with her wife and son. She has been writing about LGBT politics for over a decade. Follow her on Twitter @MamaDWitkowski.

About the author

DAnne Witkowski

D'Anne Witkowski is a poet, writer and comedian living with her wife and son. She has been writing about LGBT politics for over a decade. Follow her on Twitter @MamaDWitkowski.

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