An open letter to the editor of The Age

Dear Ms Alcorn

On February 19th I read your piece titled “Why The Age is, and will continue to be, editorially independent.” In it you stated: “Our editorial and commercial success…depends on serving our subscribers well and earning their trust. We know…that people who pay for The Age want independent, fair, fact-based journalism and intelligent opinion pieces that offer a diversity of views.”

Hello – long-time Age subscriber here. I’d like to know whether rape apologies and victim-blaming are included in your publication’s “intelligent opinion pieces that offer a diversity of views” and if you’ll be publishing views this “intelligent” and “diverse” in the future? Because the Amanda Vanstone piece about Brittany Higgins published on February 22nd was disturbing, served nobody and betrayed the trust of women everywhere. Titled “Linda Reynolds doesn’t deserve criticism: her response to Higgins rape claim was textbook” it was, according to the headline, ostensibly a defence of the actions of Ms Higgins’ former boss but its contents read quite differently and its only saving grace was that it was published in a time when it can’t be shared on Facebook.

To borrow a phrase used by Vanstone, her piece was “unattractive on so many levels that it’s hard to know where to start.” Perhaps we should begin with Vanstone’s statement that “Sexual assault and rape in Australia are all too common,” which she thoughtfully placed in the second paragraph of a piece which went on to illustrate perfectly one of the main reasons for that frequency: the public discourse around sexual assault and rape in Australia is irrefutably stained by a culture that blames women and perpetuates the idea that we are “asking for it.” So ingrained and ugly is this stain that the victim-blaming is often reinforced by other women.

“Hmm…I love the smell of internalised misogyny in the morning.”

How so? Over to Vanstone, who provides the 2016 Australian Bureau of Statistics stats on sexual assault victims, including women and men (because it’s ‘not all women!’) and stating “One reason women don’t report [assaults] is concern as to whether they will be believed.” Incredibly, Vanstone immediately follows this with an attempt to discredit Higgins, who she has already told us up-top had been “attending work drinks at a bar,” (I know – outrageous!) on the grounds that “One of the trickiest aspects of rape cases is the question of consent” (gosh, it sounds like she’s going somewhere with this…) because “when two people go out and drink too much, the mental capacity of both can be impaired but the hormones can be raging.” Bang! There it is! Nice one, Vanstone (said no-one, ever). Now, just in case you’re playing Victim-Blaming-Bingo: that’s “drunk,” “stupid,” “horny” and “asking for it.” Hang on – what did she say about women not reporting sexual assaults because they’re worried about whether or not they’ll be believed? I can’t remember.

Of course, I don’t have to look at Vanstone’s ‘mental capacity/raging hormones’ assertion as victim-blaming. I could also consider it in terms of rape apology – justification for why Higgins’ alleged rapist attacked her: ‘He was drunk so he didn’t know what he was doing’ and/or ‘Their hormones mean ‘boys’ will be ‘boys.’’ Which is just as offensive. But I’m going to err on the side of Vanstone blaming women, thanks to the seeds she plants in her next couple of paragraphs.

In the first, Vanstone writes: “Just as Prime Minister Scott Morrison reflects on “what if this was one of my daughters,” so many mothers are reflecting on “what if this was my son”. They would be thinking, “I hope someone listens to his side of the story”.” Would they, though, if their son had been accused of sexually assaulting and/or harassing no less than – wait, let me just refresh my screen of The Age online because it’s been a few minutes – four of his female colleagues? Four! Four totally separate sexual assault and harassment allegations made against him by four different women! Actually, come to think of it, I would like to hear “his side of the story.” While he’s in a courtroom, formally facing those allegations as charges and under oath.

Now steel yourself, because Vanstone’s next paragraph is a real kicker. She’s not content to just blame the women being sexually assaulted for their assaults: oh no. Why stop there when she can also blame the assaults on – stay with me here – the women who spawn the men who commit these crimes? Mothers are also horribly negligent: “If it turns out their son coldly took advantage of an inebriated young woman they’d be tossing a million things over in their mind. Did they fail in parenting?”

Let’s just let that sway in the breeze for a moment to really appreciate it before we break it down. Go on – breathe it all in: I love the smell of internalised misogyny in the morning!

So let’s tackle Vanstone’s question of whether a mother whose son rapes a woman (regardless of the woman’s age or sobriety) has failed as a parent. Although I’m wondering why she’s suggesting it’s only the mother who should be doing this and not the fath- oh well, probably not important.

In all seriousness: if – or more likely, when – a man rapes a woman tomorrow it will be less likely that either of his parents failed to raise him correctly and far more likely that words like Vanstone’s published in mainstream media under the umbrella of “a diversity of views” failed him – and all of us – by continuing the normalisation and progression of an ugly cultural narrative.

A narrative in which women are considered ‘fair game’ if they are drunk and men are excused from blame if they are.

A narrative in which women are discouraged from speaking out about sexual harassment or sexual assault for fear of what the consequences might be – for them.

A narrative in which men only speak out against a woman’s sexual assault after being prompted to imagine it happening to their daughter.

A narrative in which women are expected to be the ones to make huge changes in their lives (Vanstone: “Reynolds offered Higgins the opportunity to work in a different place, namely Reynolds’ home state of Western Australia.”)

A narrative in which women are the ones who are seen as tainted (Vanstone: “If someone had applied to work in my office and the story going around was that she had come, drunk, into a previous minister’s office at the weekend, late at night, with a man, I would have thought very carefully before offering them a job.”)

A narrative in which women are the ones who are seen as calculating (Vanstone: “Plenty of alleged victims understandably think hard about reporting a rape. Plenty take a long time to decide to pursue the matter with the police. Not so many have an organised media offensive.”)

A narrative in which women – particularly young women – are patronised (Vanstone: “In federal Parliament, there is a high prevalence of advisers under 35. It’s a high-pressure job. They’re away from home, eating out and alcohol is at almost every restaurant. It’s a heady mix.”)

As editor of The Age, you’re part of many narratives because your publication plays a role in shaping them. Would you publish the anti-Semitic views of a Nazi? The hate-filled rants of a homophobe?  The blatant prejudices of a racist?

No. Of course you wouldn’t. So in that spirit, could we maybe add rape apologists and sexual assault victim-blamers to the list of people The Age doesn’t give a platform to? Please?

Sincerely,

Terri Psiakis.

P.S. I’m asking this as a mother…

No part of this post may be published/reproduced on another site without express written permission from the author – I’m pretty much talking to you, Mamamia.