By Rachel Lavin
It is a rainy Thursday afternoon in Shopstreet, Galway. Damp and glistening, the cobbled streets are host to the usual hive of activities that make Galway’s main-street such an attraction to culture-hungry tourists. Perhaps if atavism can transcend historical instincts then so too comes the ideology of visual assault. The celtic warriors battled naked to show defiance, bravery, no need for armor in the face of danger, ‘we are not afraid’. Not unlike this our invaders today advance in a flurry of clacking heels, emboldened chants and banners, placards, spirited cries and brief flashes of flesh and lace, pleats and fishnets, underneath the weather permitted rain jackets. Locals glance from one to the other for some signal for defense, action, only to be met with mirrored looks, that quickly turn to utter cluelessness.
Typical Ireland, we can never be fully freed from the shackles of some form of oppression, be it the conquering British empiracy, the powerful Catholic Church, or the dreadful weather that cannot even allow for revealing dress on the eve of Ireland’s first Slutwalk.
Slutwalks were born six months ago in the gym of York University, Toronto. Following a series of sexual assaults on campus, police officer Michael Sanguinetti spoke at a routine visit to advise the students on personal safety. Unknowingly however, his words there, to an audience of ten students, would be the catalyst that sparked a worldwide movement of protest within months.”You know, I think we’re beating around the bush here,” The policeman touted obliviously “I’ve been told I’m not supposed to say this – however, women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized.”
Six months, and the beginnings of a new global feminist movement later, the locals of Galway look on, intrigued and perplexed as the first of Irish Slutwalks, organized by NUIG feminist society in coordination with Galway Rape Crisis center, parades by.‘The purpose of these walks’ as the Vice-auditor of the feminist society, Caroline Ford points out ‘is to protest victim-blaming attitudes in relation to sexual violence. We want to challenge myths that a woman’s clothing causes or invites rape, name-calling or any other form of negative attention. A woman should be able to wear what she wants without alluding to the myth that what she wears causes sexual violence’.
Despite the reality preferred by the media, who have portrayed these marches as a whimsical protest-lite, the clothes of only a few of the marchers is revealing. I can’t help but feel a little let down as looking down at my black mini-skirt, opaque tights, blouse and blazer I realize that I may be one of the most ‘sluttilly’ dressed people here, despite my beliefs this would be a neutral choice for the objective journalist. The majority of the group of fifty protestors that have turned out are dressed normally, kitted out for a rainy day of demonstration like any other, with few and far between in skirts and low-cut tops, just visible under rain-jackets.
NUIG’s lack of revealing clothing goes to prove the paradoxical point of the Slutwalks. The ethos purports that a woman should be able to wear whatever she wants, not because of the belief rape shouldn’t happen anyway, but the belief that in the event of rape clothes play no factor at all, and as such, should not be blamed. It is in fact less an issue of dress code and more a war of words. The Slutwalk’s main aim is to reclaim the word slut. ‘It is about taking the biggest insult a woman can be given and turning it on its head.’ Caroline Ford, vice-auditor of the NUIG feminist society tells me. ‘Slut is defined as a woman that has ‘too much sex’, or ‘too many partners’. But who is to say what is ‘too’ much? Sex is personal for the individual.’ Evidently there is no doubt that the self-proclamations of sluttiness have an impact. Groups of young male students, while entertained and jeering, look curiously and appear affected, passing cars honk and there is a sense of liberation in the air.
On the course of our walk I find the mesmerizing Elanor Leehan who innocently peeks out from behind her sign. When asked why she came to march in the slut walk she says in a timid voice ‘I wanted to highlight the victim blaming trend in our country and change the way we treat victims’. Blame of victims is an increasingly prevalent reaction in society. We see this reaction repeatedly with our clients’ says Aoibheann McCann, the executive director of Galway Rape Crisis center, which is the largest center outside of Dublin’. ‘Victims are often shunned by their families and communities. Often in schools girls who allege sexual violence will be bullied by friends and called ‘sluts’. In Ireland, there is a continuous badgering of survivors out of anger for them daring to say it. Because of this the majority of survivors tell none’.
As we talk, we pass by the infamous short-cut which became the tainted site of the rape-murder of visiting student Manuela Reido that shook Galway back in 2008. The young student was attacked by an already convicted rapist while using a well-known shortcut, and yet the general reaction in media and common talk was to focus on her irresponsible use of the pathway that lead to her death. ‘Clothes are just another method of distraction and blame’ says Aoibheann ’60% of rape victims are children, what did they do? Society tends to shift the blame from rapists and shift the focus to the minority of cases. Only 10% of rapes are random attacks and 20% already know their victim. Clothes have no factor but are blamed as a factor and used in court cases. Such a sense of victim blaming denies their experience and shows that we live in a society that tolerates rape’.
Indeed only 6.7% of cases are convicted, despite one in six Irish women experiencing sexual violence in their lifetimes, according to the Savi report, while only 50% of victims will report rape. Aoibheann believes this has a lot to do with our society’s attitudes towards rape. It is true that currently in this country at the judge’s discretion the underwear of the victim may be summoned as a factor to sway the jury, based on how ‘provocative’ it may appear. Following on from the shocking Listowel case of 2007, where a young woman who was caught on cctv being raped by a local reputable man was later shunned by her local community after the man’s conviction and accused of ‘crying rape’ many times before, one is left despairing as how to change a society’s attitude on such a sinister issue.
‘We’re starting with one word’ Aoibheann explains, ‘Rape is about power and slut-shaming a tool for that power, from both men and women. It is used to de-humanize women, especially women who are victims of rape.’ It is clear men may use it as a term to insult and demean a woman but the reason women use it is slightly more complex. As we march a group of teenage schoolgirls look on in a defensive and aggravated manner, whispering sharply followed by low-browed stares. A group of elderly women huddle together outside a hairdressers muttering the occasional ‘Lord have mercy’.
Caroline concludes it is a fear reaction. “When women hear of other women being raped, their initial reaction is to make her something ‘other’. If they can say it happened because the way she dresses or acts, she is then different and we can successfully conclude that therefore ‘that won’t happen to me’. It is a defense mechanism as women may then feel that they too are expected by men to act such a way, and as such meet the impossible standards of women illustrated in the social media, advertising and pornography’. While a protective measure, it leads the majority to ignore and ostracize the dark underbelly of society, which they may someday become victim of. Of all the reactions we come across on the day, it is possibly the female observers who are most forward in their disapproval with loud tutting and whole-body glances, and yet a confused afterthought clouds over their negative expressions at the idea we are proudly marching as the ‘sluts’ they chastise. The Slutwalk is leaving Shopstreet now and returning to NUIG, leaving the observers in Galway’s city center probed, confused, defeated. In the ruins of their illusions, banners, like ones reading ‘I don’t deserve to be raped’ imprinted on their eyes, there is a visible trail of confused expressions combined with the deciphering of the challenge they are presented with.
Of course these expressions pass across their faces for split seconds. Perhaps I imagined it. After a few brief moments of speculated contemplation a young guitar-bearing busker quickly snaps back into the competitive game that is street performance and begins strumming, the observers awake and quickly return to their business, the briefly interrupted hum and buzz of Shopstreet begins to vibrate again.
Perhaps parading around calling yourself slut is pointless after all. And yet, leaving I realize perhaps not, as I walk way recognizing the buskers familiar tune of Aslan’s ‘Crazy World’. Maybe it was my imagination but I feel the line ‘How can I protect you in this crazy world?’ reflected a new awareness that engulfed Shopstreet on that rainy Thursday afternoon.
If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this article please contact Dublin Rape Crisis Center at www.drcc.ie or freephone their 24 hour helpline at 1800 77 88 88.
