:: FBI Changes Its Definition, Includes Male Rape

"The FBI recently changed its long-standing policy that recognized rape as a crime affecting only women, a change that will bring more accurate counts of male rape and provide better resources to victims.

In its crime reports and tallies, the FBI will now include men among rape victims. Their new provision describes rape as any kind of forced penetration. Along with advocates for victims of sexual crimes, Vice President Joseph Biden pushed for the change. He said the new policy will reverse 80 years of not accounting for male rape victims."

Judge Orders Rape Victim to Pay Spousal Support to Her Rapist

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Crystal Harris is being doubly victimized.

The first time Crystal Harris was raped, it was by her husband Shawn. Now she says that the second time it happens, it will be financially. A judge has ordered Crystal to pay her now ex-husband spousal support to the tune of $1,000 each month when he is released from prison.

“He wanted to have sex and I said no,” Crystal Harris said as she described her assault. “He kept saying this is not up for negotiation. When I finally realized that I had no choice, I mean, he was pushing my head down; I finally talked him into letting me go to the bathroom. I realize I’ve got that tape recorder not far from where we are right now.”

The entire assault was caught on tape and what it captured was enough to convict Shawn Harris of a felony — forced oral copulation.

Vista Judge Gregory Pollock’s decision is fully within California divorce law. He explained his decision, saying he couldn’t justify not awarding Shawn alimony because Crystal was the primary breadwinner in the family. Shawn made $400 a month for every $10,000 Crystal brought home in income.

The only way Crystal would have avoided spousal support, the judge explained, is if her husband had tried to kill her. Attempted murder is a deal-breaker, but rape remains A-OK in the eyes of the court.

But just because Judge Pollock’s decision is legal doesn’t mean it is right. San Diego County District Attorney Bonnie Dumanis is working on Crystal’s behalf to amend state law before Shawn’s release from jail.

“I just can’t imagine that I would be the only woman that this might ever happen to,” Crystal Harris said. “It’s morally reprehensible. No rape victim should have to pay her rapist.”

 

Whoa. Thoughts?

NYC 2011 Slut Walk: Against Women's Classification as Sluts after Rape

Thousands marched through lower Manhattan yesterday at Slutwalk 2011, an event meant to encourage women to report rape and to denounce "slut shaming." The walk got its start in Toronto after a local cop told women to stop "dressing like they want to be raped." A similar thought was voiced just this week by Brooklyn police who are seeking a rapist in Park Slope. Many more photos and a video at the link.

One woman, Holly Meyer, explained why she was marching in a post on the Daily Kos:

One night in January after a lot of dancing at a friend’s house party in Brooklyn, a male neighbor and I made our way back to our building less than a mile away. We’d both consumed alcoholic beverages but nothing unusual for twenty-somethings on a Saturday night. My roommate had a new love interest at home with him, so to give him some privacy I went back to the neighbor’s apartment to crash, which I’d done several times before. I felt safe going back there as I’d spent a lot of time with this neighbor in a Will & Grace, Glee-watching, Katy Perry-listening kind of way. He’d had a homosexual relationship for more than a year prior to our being neighbors and for all intents and purposes I thought of him and treated him like a gay, male friend.

The next thing I know I’m feeling my pants being pulled down off my body. I heard the neighbor mutter, “Time to take charge of this situation.”

You can read most about Meyer's awful experience here—she adds, "When I finally felt able to tell people what happened, I was asked numerous times about what I had been wearing and if I had anything to drink. The fact that I was wearing grey pants and a black sweater and had consumed alcohol that evening should not have any bearing on what happened to me that night in January."




One woman, Holly Meyer, explained why she was marching in a post on the Daily Kos:

One night in January after a lot of dancing at a friend’s house party in Brooklyn, a male neighbor and I made our way back to our building less than a mile away. We’d both consumed alcoholic beverages but nothing unusual for twenty-somethings on a Saturday night. My roommate had a new love interest at home with him, so to give him some privacy I went back to the neighbor’s apartment to crash, which I’d done several times before. I felt safe going back there as I’d spent a lot of time with this neighbor in a Will & Grace, Glee-watching, Katy Perry-listening kind of way. He’d had a homosexual relationship for more than a year prior to our being neighbors and for all intents and purposes I thought of him and treated him like a gay, male friend.
The next thing I know I’m feeling my pants being pulled down off my body. I heard the neighbor mutter, “Time to take charge of this situation.”

You can read most about Meyer's awful experience here—she adds, "When I finally felt able to tell people what happened, I was asked numerous times about what I had been wearing and if I had anything to drink. The fact that I was wearing grey pants and a black sweater and had consumed alcohol that evening should not have any bearing on what happened to me that night in January."
One woman, Holly Meyer, explained why she was marching in a post on the Daily Kos:

One night in January after a lot of dancing at a friend’s house party in Brooklyn, a male neighbor and I made our way back to our building less than a mile away. We’d both consumed alcoholic beverages but nothing unusual for twenty-somethings on a Saturday night. My roommate had a new love interest at home with him, so to give him some privacy I went back to the neighbor’s apartment to crash, which I’d done several times before. I felt safe going back there as I’d spent a lot of time with this neighbor in a Will & Grace, Glee-watching, Katy Perry-listening kind of way. He’d had a homosexual relationship for more than a year prior to our being neighbors and for all intents and purposes I thought of him and treated him like a gay, male friend.
The next thing I know I’m feeling my pants being pulled down off my body. I heard the neighbor mutter, “Time to take charge of this situation.”

You can read most about Meyer's awful experience here—she adds, "When I finally felt able to tell people what happened, I was asked numerous times about what I had been wearing and if I had anything to drink. The fact that I was wearing grey pants and a black sweater and had consumed alcohol that evening should not have any bearing on what happened to me that night in January."

"Through Cocoa Colored Eyes"--original storyor

I feel like I should say this before you dive right in on what was my last story for Fiction 1 this summer.  It is not a story for everyone.  The theme is rape and the tone is rather violent as well as a language level that may be offensive to some readers because of the amount of profanity.  With that I said, I felt this story needed to be told this way and no other.  I do hope you enjoy, and once again I would love your feedback.

“Fuck that uptight neurotic crap Christian College, who the hell needs this stinking shit anyway!  I don’t need that G-d damn fucking football scholarship anyhow! G-d damn coach was a fucking faggot pussy who kept looking at my dick anyway!  I can make it on my own!  I don’t need anyone!” 

My deepest darkest thoughts, yet I couldn’t verbalize any of them to anyone I knew.  My bad-tempered conservative Christian friends and family would never understand I fucked it all up when all I wanted to do was live my life my way.

            The car pulls out of the driveway.  I head toward my bedroom.  “Finally a full week by myself; no g-d damn brothers and sisters, I hate them all. No more bitching parents yelling at me all hours of the night and day. No more fucking anything for seven whole days.”  I reach under my mattress to grab the pill bottle with ten Vicodin pills in it.  Each of them is 200 milligrams a piece.  I take two, grab the fifth of Vodka hidden in the closet under the mounds of mildewed sweaty jockstraps and football gear from last fall’s triumphant season and slug both back with ease. Exactly what I need.

            I grab the phone. “Hey, yeah I hear your back home.  ‘Jesus what is that crap? Do you even know what the hell you are doing?” What happened? “Like I really give a flying fuck about your pathetic life.”  Really wow, unfreaking believable right?  “Who the fuck do they think they are, right” Hey, by the way are you free tonight. ‘Oh, sweet Jesus that incredible ass is so damn inviting.  It’s nearly begging for it.’  Maybe get a pizza or something?  ‘Nothing but a hot hole needing it bad, those milky thighs wrapped around mine.” Great see you by nine then ‘You fucking whore’. Bye.”

I run back into my bedroom, rip the lose stitches on the bottom side of the mattress and dig out my joint.  Thanking Jimmy for supplying the pills and dope. I walk onto the front steps, light the match.  Take big hard drags. My head hovering somewhere in space, I walk back into the house change my t-shirt, lose the underpants I am wearing and pull my ratty jeans back on.  My dick slapping my thigh.

“Bet they were fucked at least once while at college fucking cracker.  Stupid assmonkey perky rose colored mouth needs my dick shoved in it. Fucking leave my father’s church all high and mighty white trash assbag nothing, with a full dumbshit scholarship. Whining, ‘I couldn’t find work, I had no food.  What was I supposed to do’, fucking fuckersucker lightweight!” 

The end of my joint I walk to the garage the snow is starting to fall.  I find buried in the Corvette I was trying to rebuild my bottle of whiskey from last year the bottle half full. I grab the grease covered Styrofoam cup from Sunoco fill it to the rim and down the son of a bitch in one gulp.

My dick stirs in my pants “Oh sweet baby Jesus, those eyes.  So inviting, fuck me. You know you want to.  Do you hear what I am saying?  I need you so bad.  Do you need me? How can somebody be born so attractive.  That mouth just begs to be abused.” As I grab and rub my crotch.

I see the white Chevy Chevette pull into the drive as I walk back upstairs.  “About time you fucking asshole jackoff.”  “Hey good seeing you. Really sorry to hear about college” as I open the door.  “Well you know how it is three part time jobs and I didn’t have enough to buy peanut butter. 

But how have you been David?”  “Not bad. ‘Fucking liar.’ College is just great. ‘G-d what the hell is this all about.  It isn’t some bullshit happy hour. I just want to fuck.’ Take your coat off, make yourself comfortable. ‘You fucking cum dumpster douchebag. G-d what a fucking hot body, certainly no lardass by any means.’ “Want a Pepsi?”  “Sure thing, David.”

“So you been going to church? ‘Christ Almighty, can you be any more fucking lame?” “Well actually David, I uh…well I uh um… converted.”  “To what may I ask?  ‘Really like I give a crap what this asshole does.” 

“Well uh…umm how do I say this I am studying to convert to Judaism?”  “Motherfucker, shit my dad is going crap you a fucking kike.”  My left hand swings out and it hits that face palm side facing out. My senior ring leaving a clear mark.  I hit again and again and again.

I see the blood, there is no turning back.  I grab the t-shirt on their slim frame and rip it off, throw them to the floor, my foot stomping them into the beige colored carpet.  “Please, David don’t!”

I grab my hunters knife in my hip pocket and slice those tight 501 jeans clean off.  Their nothing but rags.  “G-d David NO! NO! NO!”  “Shut the fuck up”, I slap again straight across the mouth, my senior ring splicing that full pink mouth and the blood flows unto the carpet.

“G-d please don’t.  David please don’t.  I said clam up my foot grinding their chest into the carpet.  With my knife in my hand I slice off that snow white tight underwear.  “Oh that mothafuckin’ supple white ass” as I drop my pants.

My erection bobbing in front of me.  I bend down and reach under the sofa I graze those full white mounds of ivory flesh and a bead of precum lays glistening on the white of it.  DAVID, DAVID, DAVID, DAVID, NO!!!  The scream is deafening.

 “Sweet Jesus fucking Christ.  There just begging for it.”  I grab the gun under the sofa and start pistol whipping that head.  Six short fast blows.  “You’re such a fucking waste of space, you fucking loser.” As I mount that fragrant sugary ass dry.

“Thank g-d the noise as stopped. Do you hear me, you need more, you crave it David” As I violently pound into that sweet pathetic dumbass.  “Fuck, is that blood there.” As I run my fingers through that soft mousy brown hair.  “Shit, they aren’t conscious. What the fuck do we care about this for it is about the fuck and only the fuck.  Blowing your wad man.  They had it coming.  These things happen in life.”

They move a little, a slight moan I grab that syrupy spicy leg bend it towards me, that arches that smoking fine ass.  Easier access.  They stir.  I pull hard.  Hear a bone snap.

 Fully awake. “DAVID, what the fuck are you doing? David please.”  The tears begin to well.  I bash that bloody head into the floor, six times.  “Oh my god, the eyes are rolling back.  They will never survive, now what the fuck” as I leave my semen in that sultry ass dripping down that milky thigh with blood.

I run to my bedroom naked, rip the sheet off the bed roll them into it.  Pull my pants on. Throw them over my shoulder. Walk outside in to the garage. Open the trunk to the car. Throw them in. Jump into the car. Turn the ignition.  Screaming out of the driveway.

“Do you hear me?  You have to get rid of that body!  Can you hear me?  It was never to end this badly.  What the FUCK.  Do you hear me, get rid of the evidence.”

Roaring down the dirt road to the nearest Amish field I bring the car to a sudden jerking stop. Pop open the trunk.  Grab the unmoving, barely breathing body and walk the ninety paces to the creek and dump the body in the woods. 

Breaking their arm in the fall from my shoulder to the frozen dirt. “Fucking bullshit, douchebag, dumbass, cumwhore.  Why did you EVER have to come home?

As he began speaking Elliot lowered his small coca colored eyed and stared intensely at the ground.  Hugging himself tightly, a continuous flow of tears fell down his face.  “Ladies, gentlemen, and the staff of The National Center for Victims of Crime.  This is not a story about my being sodomized.  This is not a story about Hate Crimes.  This is my personal story about forgiveness.

My Coming out story

I saw this picture today, a teaser for the upcoming season of Glee and apparently our boy Kurt ends up in a gay leather bar.  Not for the faint of heart let me tell you.  Anyway, it got me to thinking about my coming out now over 20 years ago.

I knew very early on that I was, well different, I didn't realize until almost the fifth grade that, that difference  had a word to it more than one actually.  The teasing started almost immediately, the words damaging: Sissy, Queer, Fag, Faggot, Homo, Fruit the list seemed endless and what precious ego I had left with it.  By seventh grade it was sheer living hell.  I begged my parents to send me to our church's christian school, I knew the teasing would end for ever.  It did the minute I went but it lead to so many other problems, which sooner or later I will discuss I swear.

Of course like every young guy dealing with his being gay I tried not being gay.  I even dated a few girls but we never went beyond the first kiss. The minute that kiss happened it was over.  By 16 I knew girls were not for me and I ended the charade and stopped dating them.  At 17 I lost my virginity to a guy that became my first boyfriend, he would die of GRID (now AIDS) two years later and I never looked back.  He though did introduced me to the man who became my lover and that I lived with for almost 3 years who also died of AIDS before my twenty-first birthday.

Needless to say my parents were clueless and by October/early November of 1988 I was back in Ohio and back in high school, because my Christan school education was worthless.  That December I was raped by a childhood friend.  He was somewhat older but not to much.  His parents were on vacation somewhere and he stayed behind to work at his job.  He invited me to supper which surprisingly we ate before the next thing I honestly can remember 21 one years later, was my being on the floor a gun to my head and him literally ripping the clothes off me. Years in therapy helped me to try to put together what little I do remember.

"I'm f**ckin going to give you exactly what you deserve you f**king faggot, a good breaking in".  I can still hear those words 21 years later.  Needless to say I think he just guessed I was gay, he certainly had no proof of it.  Also needless to say I wasn't his only victim male or female. I left bloodied, in rags of what were my clothes and never went to the hospital, never filed a police report and didn't speak about any of it.

That spring my brother was on a fishing trip with him and I fainted dead away when my mom told me where my brother was.  That kids is when I came out.  G-d almighty it was horrific.  The whole truth, nothing but the truth came flooding out of my mouth.  The sexual assault, my being gay, my having lost a lover ( I didn't say from what then) and of course my stay at Betty Ford before I came home.  I told my mom first we waited almost 3 months before I told my father.  It made our relationship even WORSE than what it was before. By fall of that year I had again tried committing suicide, which I think I have written about before.

The family as a whole found out I was gay when they saw me on CNN at the March on Washington during the Colorado Proposition (I can't remember the exact bill) but I was officially out.  National and local Newspapers came later as well as local things put me on television with what I was doing with ACT UP (The AIDS Coalition TO Unleash Power) and Gay Pride.

Of course I came out later as well  as a Person living with AIDS which was much harder to do and was more of a strain on my family, considering they are all southern conservative baptists ---OY VEY!  I have never regretted any of it.  I do regret exposing my parents to the people I knew when I was first diagnosed because for the most part all those people died, and died suddenly.  My parents still expect me to drop over dead any minute.

I wish I had the courage to have been as brave as Kurt on Glee, to have had some of those hard conversations I have never had with my father and to have my father say I Love You.  Kurt in many ways is making realize who I am again and not to be ashamed of any of it.  Sometimes you need to be obvious, sometimes not.  If it is a problem a friend used to say "in all reality it is not my problem, its their problem".    I mean where would be without our gay clothing designers, hair dressers, florists, interior decorators, police me, firemen and yes even gay clergy.  I am what I am no matter what and between you and me I am thankful I have all of you in my life sharing it with me.  Until next time, embrace who you are.