This column may contain strong language, sexual content, adult humor, and other themes that may not be suitable for minors. Parental guidance is strongly advised.
So, you know, boys will be boys. That’s what we’ve been telling women all this time but for some reason they refused to believe that men should never be held accountable for their actions, be it youthful indiscretions at 17, or predatory groping at 25, or unwanted advances at 30, domestic abuse at 45, or sexual assault at any age.
Because, you know, boys will be boys.
When they’re teens, drunk on beer and stoned on weed and supercharged with hormones, sure, they might pounce on an equally drunk teenage girl, and try to force themselves upon her, ripping her clothes off and laughing uproariously as she attempts to wriggle out from under them. But you can’t blame them, it’s her fault for drinking.
Because, you know, boys will be boys.
When they’re young men, drunk on whisky or vodka and stoned on their own perceived alpha-maleness and supercharged on privilege and entitlement, sure, they might corner that cute secretary in the office and try to smother her with kisses and a hand up her skirt, becoming more insistent, even angry, when she tries to push them away. But you can’t blame them, it’s her fault for wearing those short skirts and high heels at work.
Because, you know, boys will be boys.
When they’re older men, drunk on power, stoned on control and supercharged on a lifetime of getting their own way, sure, they might look at a woman pregnant with her eighth child at 37, sure, they might shrug their shoulders, ignore her plight and refuse to pass legislation to restrict her access to reproductive health care even as she desperately wants to escape an abusive marriage and at the very least care properly for the children she already has. But you can’t blame them, it’s her fault for opening her legs and getting pregnant.
Because, you know, boys will be boys.
Never was this mentality so giddily enshrined and lauded than in the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the US Supreme Court, whose confirmation to the bench is pretty much assured despite credible testimony against him by Dr. Christine Blasey Ford of sexual assault when she was 15 and he was 17 and a student at Georgetown Prep.
Though he denied he was ever drunk to the point of blacking out, or indeed, that he ever drank excessively at all, and in fact even lashed out in fury, just like a belligerent drunk, or worse, an entitled, short-tempered, belligerent, drunk jerk, at the accusation, most Republican men—and, shockingly, women—shrugged their collective shoulders and dismissed his alleged sexual assault as pretty run of the mill and not at all remarkable.
“What 17-year-old boy hasn’t [done that]?” said a mother in front of her daughter, who nodded along.
A panel of Republican women gathered by CNN were equally unconcerned about the allegations against Kavanaugh and not a little annoyed with Ford for making such a fuss about something that happened over three decades ago.
“I mean, we’re talking about a 15-year-old girl, which I respect,” said one such woman, Gina Sosa. “I’m a woman. I respect. But we’re talking about a 17-year-old boy in high school with testosterone running high. Tell me, what boy hasn’t done this in high school?”
“How can we believe the word of a woman of something that happened 36 years ago?” said another female panelist, Lourdes Castillo de la Peña. “This guy has an impeccable reputation. There is nobody that has spoken ill will about him.”
With friends like these, who needs activists?
May their daughters not find themselves at the receiving end of an unwanted penis thrust in their faces, or worse, forcefully in their vaginas. May their daughters not be the inside joke in a yearbook entry, may none of them be the girl every guy passed around because she was easy to ply with liquor and just as easy to f*ck. May their daughters find people who will listen to them and believe them and help them heal when a man they thought they knew and trusted tries to rape them. May their daughters find the law understanding of their plight and not contemptuous of their pain and swift to deliver justice to their rapist, their attacker, their stalker, their murderer.
And may their daughters not be devastated to learn that one day their assaulter has been rewarded for his behavior by being recommended for a plum job, such as Supreme Court Justice while they continue to fight to overcome their enduring trauma.
And may their daughters never find themselves forced to relive that trauma live on TV by recounting what happened that one, two, ten or twenty times they were assaulted or raped only to be belittled and mocked by the president of the United States, himself facing several allegations of sexual assault, and be accused of making it all up, or of being promiscuous, or not having the good sense to stay away from boys they knew would be drinking at a party.
At the end of the day, it’s their fault anyway. As women, they should know better. Alcohol always excuses a boy’s actions, but condemns a woman’s. And a man’s life and reputation, indeed his entire past and his future yet to come, is worth far more than a woman’s. As a recent Instagram quoting blogger Sima Fischer posted: “When a woman says, ‘This man raped me a long time ago,’ we say, ‘But that was in the past.’ When a girl says, ‘This boy raped me last night,’ we say, ‘But we can’t wreck his future!’ And there she stands, suspended between his past and his future, with no value of her own.”
Because, you know, boys will be boys.
B. Wiser is the author of Making Love in Spanish, a novel published by Anvil Publishing and available in National Book Store and Powerbooks, as well as online. When not assuming her Sasha Fierce alter-ego, she takes on the role of serious journalist and media consultant.
For comments and questions, e-mail b.wiser.ph@gmail.com.
Disclaimer: The views expressed here are solely those of the author in her private capacity and do not in any way represent the views of Preen.ph, or any other entity of the Inquirer Group of Companies.
Art by Marian Hukom
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