At the age of five, many young girls and I were told that “boys will be boys.”
When I was finally old enough to drink and go to bars and clubs, my mom always reminded me of three things: always cover your drink, do not leave your drink unattended, and stick with your friends, even when you are going to the washroom.
While walking alone, day or night, we are told to unplug our headphones so we can be aware of our surroundings, to carry pepper spray in our purses, hold our keys between our fingers, and to know at least a few self-defence moves.
And what are men told?
That’s the problem.
As boys grow into men, they are not being taught the same lessons as women. They are not told to watch their drinks in fear of being drugged. They don’t need to worry about walking alone at night and becoming a victim of sexual assault.
Since our youth, we have been constantly burdened with these responsibilities and ways of knowing, just in case.
These burdens have become reinforced for me in light of the re-emergence of the sexual assault cases involving Edmonton Oilers’ Alex Formenton and the seven male students from Cornell University. Though Formenton was acquitted, the Cornell investigation related to an alleged 2024 sexual assault is being reopened following new evidence in a recent civil lawsuit. Both of these cases raise the question of what accountability looks like beyond just a criminal conviction.
While these are just two instances, assaults happen constantly in our society. They happen in Hollywood, universities, neighbourhoods, and right across the street from you.
What bothers me is when people bring up what she was wearing, why she did not speak up sooner, and question whether she really did say no. Or when people assume that she asked for it, and question why she did not defend herself.
But what bothers me the most is when individuals worry about how it could ruin the perpetrator’s image, as if the victim’s life and well-being do not matter at all — as if writing an essay could erase the horror that has to be carried for the rest of her life.
I cannot help but wonder: why are we asking these questions?
The questions we should be asking are, why does the responsibility of preventing sexual assault and violence fall on women and girls instead of addressing the behaviour of the perpetrators? And why do so many people often find the means to excuse and rationalize, or even defend these inhumane actions?
While I can not speak for all victims, every day these survivors are fearful of what will happen if and when they do speak out. Fear of being doubted, questioned, blamed; the never-ending list of worries goes on.
All of these burdens are something women should not have to worry about in the first place.
But here we are.
