As the mum of a 13 year old daughter, I'm trying to prepare her for adulthood in a world that will, at times, judge her for being female. She's at the beginning of her adolescent journey, when the future seems to hold so much promise but also new dangers.
The one that gives me pause, in the odd moment when I allow myself to think about it, is what I can tell her about protecting herself from bad men who might want to harm her, without scaring her into believing all men are potential rapists.
If nothing else I want her to understand that rape is a crime of power, violence and hate, and never the fault of anyone but the rapist. But I'm a pragmatic woman. I'll tell her not to leave her drink unattended, to avoid dark alleyways at night, and to ditch any fella that doesn't treat her as his equal.
It's a difficult course to navigate. There's something perverse about the culture of victim-blaming in our society when it comes to sexual assault.
No-one would suggest a fella who regularly lends a few bucks to his mates and is often seen shouting a round at the pub would deserve to have his wallet stolen. Yet, that is the logic behind women failing the 'good-girl' rape test, according to which unless she is a virginal damsel violently attacked by a monstrous stranger while picking daisies in her cloistered garden, she kind of had it coming.
Ideas of sexual promiscuity, provocative clothing, lack of respectability, and men's inability to control themselves when sexually tempted are all produced as 'evidence' of culpability leading to victim-blaming — the idea that a person shares responsibility for what happened to them. It is part of the reason why sexual harrassment and assault reporting is so low in comparison to other crimes, and plays a part in the lack of successful convictions in Australia and elsewhere.
We know from research conducted over the last few decades that one of the reasons many people engage in victim-blaming is because they hold what's called the Just World Belief (JWB). That is, what happens to people is what they deserve. Good people have good things happen to them and bad people have bad things happen to them.
While the JWB can be useful in helping people feel safe and secure in their lives, it also leads to the simplistic judgement that if a person is raped, for example, they must have done something wrong to deserve it. Maybe she slept around, maybe she was purposefully wearing a low-cut top to attract attention, maybe she didn't say no loudly enough, maybe he was too effeminate.
"Accepting the reality that we live in a world where where bad things happen to good people, where rapists will look for opportunities to target women (and men) they perceive to be vulnerable, means we need to mitigate against risk."
This also (incorrectly) absolves the bystander from his or her duty to help, whether literally at the time of the assault, or later in terms of support, belief, and seeking justice. They can just shrug and say, 'Well, she was asking for it.'
Anyone familiar with the biblical story of Job will immediately recognise the problem with the JWB. Pious Job was a wealthy family man who, when his fortunes dramatically turned as part of a bet between God and Satan, remained faithful. Job's friends, however, couldn't understand how God could allow this to happen to Job, so they reasoned he must have done something really evil to deserve all the punishments lobbed his way. Job's suffering contradicted their JWB.
Whether you take the Buddhist view that life is suffering, the Christian view that sin has resulted in a broken world, the Islamic view that all that happens to us is ultimately outside of our control, or the Baha'i view that God allows tests to happen to spur our spiritual growth, there is no place for indifference and blame towards others.
At the same time, accepting the reality that we live in a world where injustice occurs, where bad things happen to good people, where rapists will look for opportunities to target women (and men) they perceive to be vulnerable means we do need to mitigate against risk, while still recognising moral blame for rape lies squarely on the shoulders of the rapist.
For example, we know that there is a link between alcohol consumption and both physical and sexual violence. In a January article for the Journal of Studies on Alcohol and Drugs, William H. George and Kelly Cue Davis cite research demonstrating alcohol can exacerbate sexual aggression in violent men. 'Men with sexual assault proclivities may seek out bar/party settings as opportunities for heavy drinking, hooking up, and possibly engaging in sexual assault with intoxicated women,' they write.
Quite possibly some also seek out opportunities to engage in violent physical altercations with other men, which is why some Australian jurisdictions are experimenting with lock-out laws. It's not that that the resulting decline in assaults is because the morality of individuals has substantially changed, but because opportunities for those violent attacks has decreased. And, while a drunk lad who is coward-punched never deserved it, suggesting to our young men that limiting alcohol consumption and avoiding bars and clubs at closing time is simply sensible risk mitigation.
Similarly, we need to generally advise women to be aware that while they absolutely never deserve to be raped, the unfortunate reality is that there exist men with sexually violent proclivities who use certain modus operandi to seek victims, including plying them with drinks to incapacity (to give one example). Although it's not fair, women do need to take action to limit the risk of their exposure to potential crime. It's simply the reality of the unjust world in which we live.
I wish we lived in a world where I could tell my daughter she is free to wear what she wants, do what she wants, and be what she wants and noone would judge her for it, or hurt her for it. Instead I'm going to tell her that she doesn't live in that world and needs to act accordingly. Meanwhile we can spend our lives trying to bring that more just world into being.
Dr Rachel Woodlock is an expat Australian academic and writer living in Ireland.