e_Paper, Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Blame it on Eve
Rapists are not born, they are made
Opinion 13
DT
TUESDAY, MAY 23, 2017
THE
WORLD IN
PARENTHESES
• SN Rasul
The Banani rape case at the
Raintree Hotel, amongst
other incidents, has
made it imperative that
Bangladesh take a good look in
the mirror and sort out a veritable
existential crisis that it is going
through.
Especially when it comes to the
way it treats the women who are
part of its burgeoning population,
contribute to its economy, inhabit
the 147,000 square kilometres or
so of its land.
It has become necessary, at
least, to have a conversation,
amongst the very people who
take space in this country, from
you and I in the middle, to people
perched on the topmost rung and
the ones clinging on to the lowest.
Apples and oranges
Conversation has, however,
erupted out of the remnants of
the case. From opinion pieces to
Facebook statuses, everyone in the
country has something to say. But
much of it isn’t new.
But that’s no surprise. Some of
it does bear repeating:
1) Women’s sexual history does
not matter.
2) What they wore doesn’t
matter.
3) No one “deserves” to be
raped (yes, even the rapists
themselves, but I suppose that’s
another argument, for another
portal).
These are some of the basics.
In keeping with the Abraham
traditions, when the forbidden
apple is bitten, blame it on Eve. It
seems, in many instances, Satan
works through the female of the
species.
Much of this has been said, and
it has been said plenty. In fact,
maybe too often?
Why? Because these words
get limited breathing space. They
are heard by people who already
agree, or by those who’ve heard it
enough to not pay any heed.
Not that words aren’t powerful.
Maybe a mind is changed. Maybe
two. Through the pathos of the
incident, there must be someone
who decides to tread the path
devoid of victim-blaming.
But far too few, far too rare.
Blame it on temptation
Why do these thoughts persist? Education? Sure. Impunity? Definitely. A
majority that believes in the way certain sexes are supposed to be?
The serpents
Going back to the issue of
Bangladesh’s existential crisis, it
would be a mistake to think that
victim-blaming is a solely lower
class, previous generation issue.
Even the progeny of “educated”
upbringing hold on to such
thoughts.
Much of it one may never
find out, unless one is a trusted
friend. Having experienced the
overwhelming arguments against
rape culture in their social strata,
they hide behind well-veiled
pseudo-sympathetic statements of
agreement.
This is something I’ve
experienced first-hand (and I
think many have too, and have
not spoken up because, like me,
they did not wish to break the
status quo with the individual in
question). As a person worthy of
trust, they will reiterate common
adages: “Of course, what did they
expect would happen?” and “In
these parties, these things are
common, and the girls know that
things like that are expected to
happen,” and “I don’t mean to
be sexist but clothes like that do
trigger assaults.”
Sometimes it’s evident in the
way they boast of their sexual
prowess, and how long they can
last in bed. They’ll move with ease
through the social ranks, their socalled
masculinity on display, but
without consequence.
What do we do? We sit back
and listen. Maybe not all of us, but
some of us. I, myself, will not shy
away from the blame.
Much of it has to do with the
fact that, otherwise, these people
are “good” in most senses of the
word. How do you define good?
Do they harm others? No. Do
they care for their parents, their
friends, their husbands and wives,
their children? Yes. Are they
religious? Most of the time.
Let it be, we say, they’re not
harming anyone. They would
never change their minds. These
thoughts are ingrained.
Eden hazard
I suppose when Hefazat has to
come out and issue a statement,
we are scraping the bottom of
the barrel. But why do these
thoughts persist? Education? Sure.
Impunity? Definitely. A majority
that believes in the way certain
sexes are supposed to be? Of
course.
(We must also understand that
we, too, believe in “supposed to
be’s.”)
A lot of the things we do may
prevent a certain generation of
people from a certain class from
attaining the same mindsets as
that of sexual predators. But what
of the rest?
What of the husband in that
unnameable village who rapes his
wife every night? The rickshawpuller
who stares at the sleevelesskameez
ladies on the street? The
huzur who teaches your kids
Arabic but believes the word of
God to a T?
To delude ourselves into
thinking that there isn’t a
conversation to be had between
you and these people, because you
are somewhat on the same page,
won’t fly. Bangladesh is no Eden,
least of all for women.
A lot of it stems from the
villainisation of the culprit, the
dehumanisation of his being,
the extrapolation of his actions
BIGSTOCK
from all context. Rapists are not
born out of a vacuum; they are
bred, either by circumstance or
influence.
This, if anything, we must
understand.
There is little as disheartening
as living in a country where the
very act of being a woman on the
street is an act of rebellion. The
system itself believes them to have
been borne out of shame, guilt,
and wrong-doing.
The Banani rape case is
newsworthy. The countless others
are missed statistics, invisible
stains on the bedsheets of violent
oppression. What do we do, in this
state? With our overlords giving
the likes of Hefazat, and what
they believe, more and more of
a platform, are we merely, with
these words, consoling ourselves?
Or is there, through better
understanding, a way out of this
hell? •
SN Rasul is an Editorial Assistant at the
Dhaka Tribune.