Women are the victims, and men are the aggressors. At least that’s how the story is usually told. But men can be victims too.
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Across the U.S., students and parents are being warned about male predators who are sexually assaulting women on college campuses. According to those raising the alarm, 20% to 25% of females will be victimized at some time during their college careers. In other words, out of the roughly 12 million individuals in this cohort, two to three million will suffer an act of rape committed by an equal number of men.
Shame washed across his body. This was about guys who like other guys.
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Each time I read or hear about this heinous act my heart races and I flash back to my own sexual assault. It occurred when I was 21, just over 40 years ago, and forever changed how I interact with others. It is also something I can never forget, even though I’ve wanted to ever since. Several years ago, I adopted a pen name and attempted to exorcise my demons by writing an autobiographical novel, My Razzle Dazzle. Unfortunately, the scars still run deep, and I regularly feel compelled to retell my story. With that in mind, I will again rewind the clock of my life and transform myself back into the young victim, Todd Peterson.
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In 1973, I was a skinny and naive kid, fresh off a Midwestern farm. I had traveled to the San Francisco Bay area to join professional roller derby, the centerpiece of a popular TV show during that bygone era. On my first day of training, I met an assortment of individuals, all of them skaters in training. One was Linda Carlson, five years older and bigger than me. After that, she regularly chatted with me, staring with penetrating wide eyes, as if to say, “I like you.” I was simply happy that I’d found a new skating friend.
After five months of daily banked-track training, three broken bones and a sprained thumb, I was called up from the amateur ranks. I was going to skate in my first professional competition, with a live audience and television coverage at a large auditorium, Kezar Pavilion, in Golden Gate Park. Linda and I both lived in Oakland, and she jumped at the chance to ferry me in her old hearse to my first paid gig. Below is a lightly edited excerpt from my novel about that day.
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(Trigger Warning)
“Today is game day,” Todd reminded himself, shaving in the mirror before going over to see Linda. His favorite movie flickered in his mind like a daydream. He was inside a dim and jock–fragranced locker room, suiting up for a professional roller derby game, and then he entered the arena before thousands of appreciative people. Suddenly, the wasps spiraled inside his gut. It was time.
Todd did as he was told and began to sweat. What would she do? |
Linda operated a one-room knick-knack shop in Oakland, seven blocks from the YMCA. Todd rang the doorbell. She opened the door and smiled and let him in. She wore her poorly bleached-blonde hair in pigtails that flopped out from each side of her head and over her ears, like an ugly dog with big droopy ears.
“How are you? Follow me into my room.” Linda leaned close.
Todd pulled back.
“It’s this way,” she said, and moved quickly.
“I think I’m ready,” Todd was swept along behind Linda toward her bedroom. “My skates are packed.”
“I own a hearse.” Linda unpinned her hair, flopped her locks to one side and smiled.
“I know, that’s so radical,” Todd said as he glanced around the small bedroom stuffed with delicate curtains, doilies and a bedspread.
“It’ll be an adventure. It used to belong to the Grateful Dead.” Linda faced Todd. Her body smothered with perfume.
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Todd sat on the edge of the bed, still thinking about the game ahead of him. He looked around. Linda’s eyes were giving him messages he didn’t understand.
“Yes, well. Anyway. I wanted to talk to you.” Linda’s face appeared blank. Then the corners of her mouth raised slightly.
“What about?” Todd worried. His heart dropped and an odd feeling came over him.
She bent over uncomfortably close, stared into his eyes and crossed her arms. “The boys.”
Todd’s chin shivered. He edged back an inch.
Linda’s lips pouted. “The boys?”
Todd crossed his legs and stared off into the corner of the room. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he gulped, though in fact he knew exactly what Linda was talking about. Shame washed across his body. This was about guys who like other guys. Linda’s oozing perfume wafted down into his bowels, making him feel nauseous. His skating daydream crashed.
Her smile faded. “Every time a new guy comes to train, the guys get to him.”
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Todd knew she was talking about sex, and he had never discussed that subject with a woman before. He could smell the lust radiating from her as her eyes narrowed. Her busty body wanted to boink him right there, to make him straight, before the other guys on the team could get to him. He didn’t want to think or talk about this right now! “Well,” he stammered, “I uh, I don’t…”
Todd felt a sense of withdrawal from the experience, as if Linda was lying here on the bed alone and he was simply watching as he drifted away toward the ceiling.
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Linda directed stealth-like eyes at Todd, as if she didn’t have a clue that he was trying to back out of it. Her smile grew. She tapped one foot. “So, I wanted to get to you first,” she said, moving closer and crossing her ankles, her docile fingertips unbuttoning Todd’s shirt, her hair loosened and spilling over Todd’s chest. The heat coming from Linda’s breath felt intrusive to him, and her small room kept getting smaller and smaller. “Lean back,” she ordered, and moved closer again.
Todd did as he was told and began to sweat. What would she do?
“Did they get to you yet?” Linda asked, removing his shoes and socks, then almost pouncing on him as she reached to fondle and unzip his zipper. “Do you like men now, Todd?”
How awkward. Todd felt a sense of withdrawal from the experience, as if Linda was lying here on the bed alone and he was simply watching as he drifted away toward the ceiling. His heart raced and he wanted to tell her that he was pretty sure he did like guys. He held his breath and wanted to say that it wasn’t one of the other skaters that had made him feel that way. But before he could open his mouth, Linda kicked her shoes off and leaned closer. She cuddled Todd’s crotch and massaged him.
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Todd jolted up and to one side. He spurted a burst of air. Shaking, he was aware that Linda had seen that his face was dripping sweat.
She froze. She removed her hand. He froze.
“Ummm. Maybe I like guys?” Todd’s chest clung to his lungs and fingers trembled.
Linda wagged her dark eyebrows into a frown. “Mm-hmm.” Her eyes became crystalline. Todd’s stomach turned. She flicked her eyes away, tilted her head, and Todd’s vitality screeched to a stop.
“I think.” He looked away.
“You think.” Linda disentangled herself from Todd and rose from the bed with a sigh. Todd suddenly felt some pre-vomit saliva beginning to gush into his mouth, along with a horrible doubt about how he was going to make it through the next few minutes.
“Well,” Linda said, brushing the hair back from her eyes, her lipstick smudged, eyes hot. Her little feet shifted as she did a nervous dance on the carpet. Then she tossed her head to get the hair out of her face and sat down to lace up her shoes. “I think we should get over to Kezar.”
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Todd brushed the stray hairs off his chest, zipping up his pants. “Yup,” he said, turning to put on his socks and looking back at her over his shoulder. “Me too. You ready?”
According to Time, “43% of high school boys and young college men reported they had an unwanted sexual experience and of those, 95% said a female acquaintance was the aggressor.
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Linda remained silent a moment. Todd bounced quickly from putting on his shoes to watching Linda with her head down, hair swinging. Would she hate him now, for being different, just like everyone at home?
“I’m ready,” she finally said, raising her head and looking him in the eye. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go!” he exhaled, shuddered and blocked out what just happened.
As they drove across the sequenced avenues, Linda chattered nervously and pointed things out to him. “We’re at Parnassus Avenue,” she said. Todd sensed that she was trying to keep him occupied with conversation as his mind flashed back to how horrified he must have just been.
“And this is Carl Street. Three blocks from Kezar,” Linda muttered.
Todd’s gut fluttered and his palms sweat.
“Frederick Street, see it over there?” Linda nodded ahead.
Todd fussed with his pant leg, feeling breathless when he saw Kezar Pavilion alongside an almost full parking lot. People mingled and lined up for tickets and entry. Todd quivered and imagined himself smiling as he put on a New York Chief’s uniform with excited nervous hands. He took a long soothing breath.
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Nowadays, whenever I hear about campus rape, increasingly one-sided college assault policies, amateurish campus rape juries, mandatory consent classes, California’s problematic consent law, and the media fallout associated with these issues, my gut wrenches. I shake and re-experience the abuse I received, again and again. Thankfully, women who have been victimized receive all sorts of support, aided by ample funding and myriad initiatives. But what about us males? According to Time, “43% of high school boys and young college men reported they had an unwanted sexual experience and of those, 95% said a female acquaintance was the aggressor.” In middle and high schools, meanwhile, more and more female teachers are raping young male teenagers. Seeing this going on, one can only wonder if society is ignorant or sexist. Regardless, I feel the pain and sense of betrayal of my male brothers. In a so-called age of equality, there are few, if any, policies and programs that even attempt to redress the problem of sexual assaults on the male community.
Every day, I ask myself why such ignorance and sexism exists, and wonder what it will take for our government, our schools, and our society to “man-up” and help protect boys and young men from such crimes. Sadly, I still don’t have an answer.
“Every day, I ask myself why such ignorance and sexism exists, and wonder what it will take for our government, our schools, and our society to “man-up” and help protect boys and young men from such crimes. Sadly, I still don’t have an answer.”
Society needs to address the final taboo, the female perpetrator. Even in the headline of this article and the teaser there is no mention of the female perpetrator. There are some organizations that will help male victims now, but I know of no campaigns that address the female perpetrator. That’s what needs to change.
Couldn’t agree with you more. I’m gonna take this a step though. Women in general have gotten a free pass on a lot of things. I’ve said for some time now that we have at least one generation of boys who have primarily been raised by women yet all the issues related to their behaviors troubles are circled around back to something “men” did or are doing.
I think it’s high time women start to be held accountable.