Forced Penetration
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Forced Penetration
by
Amanda Hess
December 4th, 2009 September 30th, 2020
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In today’s Sexist Beatdown, we discussed the reluctance to accept men as victims of sexual assault . Men, according to the Gender Police, are seen as unrapeable —-they are constantly expected to pursue sex, and are therefore impossible to violate. Commenter Drew noted another cultural barrier to male victims of sexual assault—-our tendency to conflate sexual violation with penetration. He writes:
to get into even more touchy territory, maybe the word “sex” isn’t specific enough. Because what really seems to be at issue here isn’t just anything that falls under the heading of sex, it’s really more what falls under the heading of “penetration.”
Because I’d bet those same (straight) men who have a hard time seeing/admitting a big problem with them being drunkenly led into having obligation/consequence-free sex would probably immediately see the situation very differently if the “sex” turned out to have involved them being on the penetrated end of a sex act (whether with a woman or a man).
The idea that rape is classified based on body parts isn’t just a cultural thing; it’s a criminal thing, too. According to the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reporting system, forcible rape is “the carnal knowledge of a female forcibly and against her will.” To the FBI, the carnal knowledge of a male forcibly and against his will is considered a different (and lesser) crime: “assault.”
Here, sexual consent is defined not only by a person’s will, but by their physical attributes. According to the FBI’s definition, female bodies can be raped, but male bodies cannot. I suspect this is why men are only seen as victims when their bodies are penetrated—-it’s perceived as a feminine sexual position, and only female bodies can be victimized. Under this model, physical characteristics become shorthand for consent.
When people who believe that men can’t be raped are forced to justify their position, the argument usually goes something like this:
A : If a person can’t legally consent to sex when they’re too drunk, what happens when both sex partners are too drunk to have sex? Why isn’t the man considered a victim of rape as well?
B : Even when two people are drunk, at least one of them has to physically initiate the sex act. When both partners are actively and enthusiastically participating, it’s sex. When only one person is physically pursuing sex, and the other person has verbally consented that that’s what they’re into, it’s sex. When only one person is physically pursuing sex, and the other person hasn’t provided their verbal consent, it’s assault. It’s impossible for two people lying around passed out to somehow violate each other against both of their wills. Sex doesn’t just happen .
A : OK. But why is it that only men are assumed to be the aggressor in a situation like that? Can’t a woman physically force herself on a guy who’s too drunk to have sex?
B : Because … his dick wouldn’t get hard.
Some people actually think that an erection is a physical indication of consent. It is not. According to the Rape Victim Advocacy Program , arousal is actually quite common in sexual assault scenarios involving both male and female victims:
Male victims/survivors are often ashamed and confused when their body responds during an assault. Frequently, men who are sexually assaulted or raped have an involuntary or forced erection or ejaculation. Also, muscles in the anus often relax when a man is raped. This does not mean that the survivor wanted to be raped or sexually assaulted. Involuntary erections and ejaculations are normal reactions to physical stimulation even when sex is non-consensual.
As the National Center for Victims of Crime notes, male victims of rape often blame themselves for their “involuntary physiological reaction” to a sexual assault. They, too, believe an erection automatically implies consent:
It is not uncommon for a male rape victim to blame himself for the rape, believing that he in some way gave permission to the rapist (Brochman, 1991). Male rape victims suffer a similar fear that female rape victims face—-that people will believe the myth that they may have enjoyed being raped. Some men may believe they were not raped or that they gave consent because they became sexually aroused, had an erection, or ejaculated during the sexual assault.
If we’re serious about addressing sexual assault against men and women, we must break down these physical barriers. The female body has long been invoked to justify sexual assaults against women—-we are too sexy to be left alone, too vulnerable to fight back, too feminine to be respected. A woman’s body should never make her a victim—-and a man’s body should never make him invisible.
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More than 20 years later, I don't often think about what happened on that spring night. But it's stayed with me anyway and comes back in my dreams, especially when I start to date to someone.
Aug 30, 2012, 04:18 PM EDT | Updated Oct 30, 2012
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Sophomore year of high school, I was on my way to the locker room in my dance team uniform after a football game we'd lost. I turned the corner into the hallway and saw Patrick,* who was a couple years older, storming towards me. Still in his football gear, his jaw was clenched and he was tearing the pep rally "Go team!" posters off the walls. I froze as he passed by and continued down the hallway ripping signs. Being by myself and seeing him like this was terrifying, but also electrifying.
Over Christmas break that year, I was at a house party after a basketball game that Patrick had played in, drinking Bartles & Jaymes Very Berry wine coolers.
"Are you going to the diner?" he asked, and I had to stop myself from saying, "Are you talking to me?"
"A bunch of us are going, are you gonna go?"
Inside the diner, there was a Christmas tree next to the door, and Patrick grabbed a candy cane that was hanging off it as he walked by. He led me to a table near the back, by the smoking section, and slid into the booth across from me. I ordered a hot chocolate and he offered me some of his cheese fries, and gave me the candy cane he'd stolen. I kept it in the wrapper and tucked it into my purse, and when I got home I hid it underneath my bottom desk drawer, next to my diary with the tiny gold lock.
At school I hoped to pass him in the hallways and at parties I prayed he'd talk to me. Neither happened very often but when they did, I was so excited about these brief glimpses and conversations.
One weekend in May I heard that there was going to be a keg party in the woods by the pond on Sunday night since we had Monday off from school. My best friend couldn't go but I had a feeling that Patrick would be there so I decided to go by myself. I wore a white Champion t-shirt, red Umbro shorts, a GAP jeans jacket, bunchy socks, and Keds. I went to my best friend's house before the party and she did my hair, putting it half-up in a clip and blow-drying and hairspraying my bangs.
Walking up to the clearing by the pond where the party was, I saw right away that Patrick was there and my stomach did flip-flops. He made his way over and talked to me, and at the end of the night he said he would walk me home.
Maybe he'll kiss me! I thought, walking down the dirt path next to him, and popping a Wint-O-Green Lifesaver in my mouth just in case.
"Did you know that Wint-O-Green Lifesavers spark in the dark?" I asked, biting the Lifesaver to do my favorite party trick.
"Hmm," he said, looking at me, and I could tell that he was going to kiss me. Covering my mouth with my hand, I tried to subtly spit out my Lifesaver so I'd be ready for the kiss, and dropped it on the ground.
A second later, he leaned down and started kissing me. I couldn't believe this was actually happening! But then he took my clothes off really quickly and all of a sudden I was lying on the ground and he was on top of me. His hands were all over me and dried leaves scratched against my back and legs and my mind couldn't keep up with what was going on. I was trying to decide if I liked it or not and leaning towards not when he told me to give him a blow job.
"I can't," I stammered. I'd never done that before and also I'd just gotten braces and I thought I might have TMJ, but I knew I couldn't explain all that so I just gulped and nodded no. "I... can't."
"You're just a tease," he said, getting up and walking away. "Just a f**cking tease."
"Wait!" I yelled after him. "Where are you going, what are you..."
He said if I didn't do it he'd leave me alone in the woods, and kept walking towards the road. I scrambled to gather my clothes and put them back on, and ran after him.
"OK," I said. "I'll... I'll do it."
"What?" he asked, stopping and turning around to face me. "What will you do?"
"That," I said. "What you said, what you wanted."
"Say it," he said. "Tell me what you'll do."
Standing completely still, my breath caught in my chest. I didn't want to say it but I did, and he led me to the top of hill with a stream trickling by below. Then he dropped his shorts to his ankles, put his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me down. He was tall and the hill was steep so it was hard to balance and I was afraid I was going to fall backwards, but I didn't.
Afterwards, he walked me home like he'd promised. But he walked fast and was a few steps ahead of me, so I took double steps, stumbling to keep up with him.
"This doesn't mean anything," he said, looking straight ahead. "This doesn't mean I'm going to talk to you at school or anything."
I nodded in the dark, understanding what it did and didn't mean, what I was worth and did and didn't deserve.
When I got to my house, I walked up the front steps and through the door, shutting it quietly behind me. Leaning back against the door, I slid to the ground. Feeling the cool tile against my face, I curled up into a ball on the entryway floor, wrapped my arms around my knees, and cried.
I told some of my friends about that night, but as if it had just been normal hooking-up. Then more people found out and teased me about it, as if I was promiscuous, slutty.
At 15 years old, I didn't understand what had happened. I'd had a crush on Patrick for so long and all I'd wanted was for him to notice me, to kiss me, and he finally did, only something had gone wrong. There was no label for what he did so it became a violation I couldn't name, and I could convince myself that it wasn't a big deal. I made one appointment with the school counselor to talk about it, but I never told my friends how scared I felt in the woods, or how sad I felt afterwards. It wasn't until I was in my late 20s that I told my therapist about it, and I was in my 30s before I ever told the full story to friends. But I've learned that the more I talk about it, the less power it has.
Sex has never felt safe to me; it feels like a precursor to being hurt, abandoned, and rejected, which is what it's turned out to be again and again. Looking back, I can't say that this one incident is solely responsible for damaging my sexuality and destroying my ability to trust. But I sometimes wonder if my first sexual experience had been different, kinder, I would have been able to make better choices about the men I got involved with, could have gone down a different path.
More than 20 years later, I don't often think about what happened on that spring night. But it's stayed with me anyway and comes back in my dreams, especially when I start to date someone. A few months ago, the night before my first date with a guy I'd known for a while and really liked, I had the dream again. It's almost always the same. I'm back in those woods, and Patrick's there, too, a few steps ahead of me as I wind down the dirt path, stumbling in the dark.
https://www.thebody.com/article/accidental-intercourse-stripper
You should know: The answer above provides general health information that is not intended to replace medical advice or treatment recommendations from a qualified health care professional.
I went to a strip club in Canada and was approached by a stripper who offered to give me a lap dance for $10.00 which was quite inexpensive. When she came up to me she immediately started touching my penis. While performing the lap dance she unzipped my pants (this has never happened to me before during a lap dance). Before I knew what was happening she was trying to have intercourse with me (for no additional money). I ended up pentrating her about 2" deep for about 10 seconds.
Then I put my shirt over my penis and she continued to grind against me with the shirt in between my penis and her body. When I got back to my hotel I noticed a little blood on my penis (evidently from what happened after the penetration). In your opinion what was my risk of contrating HIV from vaginal fluids that remained on my penis during the grinding motion? What is my overall risk? I'm positive that she had HIV. Why else would she be so reckless?
Please respond. I am extremely anxious about this and am experiencing symptoms that could be related to HIV.
Would an RNA test be conclusive at 6 weeks?
"Accidental" intercourse with a stripper??? Hmmmmmm . . . OK. If you say so, I'll believe you. Millions wouldn't, but I will.
Since I wasn't there to witness all the details of this accidental nookie, the best I can say is that your estimated risk would be that of unprotected insertive vaginal sex. The risk per episode of receptive vaginal sex with an HIV-positive partner is estimated to be 0.1% to 0.2%. Your risk would be "less," because you were the insertive partner, and because we don't know the status of your bucking bronco lap rider. Also, your exposure was brief 10 seconds.
Regarding HIV testing, an ELISA test with a confirmatory Western Blot three months or more after a potential exposure is recommended for screening. PCR-RNA is not recommended for HIV screening, due to the rate of false-positive results.
Good luck on your test. We will all be sending you our best karma for a negative test result.
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