It was a strange night. Our usually quiet neighborhood bar was packed and messy. It was a hipster-y place, with school bus seats and board games and Pabst Blue Ribbon, but it was far enough east that people didn’t usually venture to it. That night, however, it was crowded with the after-work and more specifically, the recreational league crowd.
A bocce team, already boisterous and a few drinks in, made its way into the bar wearing bright green t-shirts.
We sat with our friends outside, attempting to play a boardgame. But our one friend was becoming increasingly more agitated. He didn’t mind bars, but he hated drunk crowds. We were just getting ready to pack up and leave when two men exited the bar carrying between them a woman who was completely and utterly passed out. Dead weight. They were all wearing the green t-shirts, all on the same team.
Sometimes it seems my naivety knows no bounds. I know that men rape women. I heard the term “date rape” while watching Beverly Hills, 90210 when I was twelve years old (btw, rape is rape. Being on a “date” doesn’t change that, though I realize for statistical purposes there are reasons for distinguishing.). I know girls were raped in college. I know 1 in 5 women will be raped in their lifetime.
During the Kavanaugh hearings, my friends bled their sexual assault stories on social media, desperate for people to understand, this is a thing that happens and has happened to almost everyone you know. Please believe us. We felt empty and weary when he was confirmed. But not surprised. Crimes against women’s bodies and souls are not often seen as worthy of punishment.
But here’s the shameful part. I watched the men in green shirts walk by, and I said nothing. Even though the sight of the woman was alarming. Even though it was clear she was in no position to say yes or no. Well, they’re on the same team, I thought. Surely they’re friends.
I know (now) that “51.1% of female victims of rape reported being raped by an intimate partner and 40.8% by an acquaintance.”
My friend Mika stood up and shouted, “Hey, you can’t take her.”
The men stopped in their tracks and looked over.
“She’s sick. We’re taking her home,” one of them mumbled.
“You’ve gotta call an ambulance,” Mika said. “I’ll call it for you if you want.”
The men turned reluctantly and brought her back to the bar. They sat her on a chair. Someone called an ambulance. The paramedics arrived.
The woman’s friend came out of the bar and sat next to her. I don’t remember if the guys went back inside or not.
The woman moved in and out of consciousness as the paramedics asked her questions. How much did she drink? Did she take anything?
The woman kept slurring, “I didn’t even drink that much, I didn’t even drink that much.”
I believed her.
Her friend said, “But remember you were on antibiotics?”
I can’t know for sure what happened. Was something put in her drink? Seems likely. Had she taken antibiotics and then one drink knocked her out? Maybe. Were those guys her friends taking her home for her safety? They were certainly her teammates.
I don’t know where her girlfriends were.
I don’t know why I’m telling this story.
I only know one thing for sure: my friend Mika most likely saved that woman from being raped that night.
The woman will never know.
I tell this story because I’m embarrassed that I didn’t see it. I didn’t speak up. And neither did anyone else. An entire bar full of people let an unconscious woman be taken from a bar. Except Mika.
This happens all the time, all around us.
I tell this story because if you’re like me you might need a few stark reminders that it’s our job to watch out for each other. And when I say “our” I include men in that. Especially men.
In bars. On planes. (Read this thread. A girl was getting harassed on a plane and the women around her stepped in to protect her and stop it.) On the street. Everywhere.
And I’m so sorry that this is the reality. I’m sorry that instead of a world that spends time and resources telling men not to rape women, we live in a world that educates women on how to try not to get raped. A world that invents terms in order to distinguish between levels of rape.
But until that other world exists, we have to look out for each other. Maybe a Mika saved you one night and you didn’t even know it. You can do the same for someone else.
Suzanne Jameson says
Wow! Once again a stunning piece, Mary Woo!