I feel like most people who were never victims of rape see rape as some creepy guy jumping out of the bushes. That's actually rarely the case. My pepper spray or my keys woven into my fingers (I weave my keys and I cock and aim my pepper spray when I'm out walking alone) might work great if it comes to that, but I'm a slight, not very strong person, and statistics say, I'll be raped by someone I trust, so the pepper spray is almost moot.
Some Statistics from RAINN
Two points, though (one, an anecdote):
1. I trust everyone I'm close to implicitly. I can't see one of them raping anyone, especially their loved ones... not for a moment.
2. I was one in a "jumped out of the bushes" type scenario. I was on the interstate on my way home from work at about 11:30 PM when I popped a tire. This was over a decade ago, and I had a cell phone, but it wasn't active or even charged, so I was SOL. Luckily, I was close to an offramp, so the area was fairly well-lit, and I went around to the back of my car to check the damage. My tire was shredded, and I had just popped a different one a week earlier, so no spare. Fuck. I stood there, staring at it for a minute, and when I looked up, there was a person running across six lanes of traffic from the other side of the interstate. By the time I was finished thinking, "what the fuck?" he was standing, panting, in front of me.
Him: Do you need help?
Me: Do you have a phone?
Him: I can take you to a phone
Me: That's cool. I'll just stay here and wait for help. Maybe you could call someone for me when you get off the highway?
Him: Come to my truck. My cell's in there.
I knew something was fishy before that, but I was then convinced he was a shady character. I launched myself over the trunk of my car, and mid-slide, he grabbed the collar of my shirt (a button-down) and ripped it open as I fell to the ground. He grabbed me by the neck, and that's where I sort of blacked out. I remember a little: screaming and cursing and flailing around. I remember my fist connecting with his face, and I remember him running back across the interstate, tugging at his pants, which, later I satisfactorily noted: he never got all the way down.
I went my car door, got in, locked all the doors, turned the radio up as loud as I could take it, lit a cigarette (thank the convenience store gods I had some), took a deep breath, and started sobbing. It took about twenty five minutes before I saw a cop car's flashing lights behind me.
I literally fell out of my car as I struggled to unlock and open the door. The tears of joy to see a cop surprised me, but I jumped up, ran to him, and hugged him. When I let go, I realized his hand was on his gun. He easily could have shot me or something.
I don't remember much after that. They had my car towed and I went to the station with the cops, where my mom met me with a shirt and a shoulder. They took a statement, and the next day I did a composite while the dude was literally locked in a cell downstairs. Turns out, he had managed to abduct another chick who had the good sense to cut and run from his truck at a red light, and she had picked up his license plate number.
So, the creepy bushes guy does happen, however, I was in a relationship in my very early twenties in which I got beat up and sexually assaulted regularly. In my opinion, those are the types of rapes we can prevent with education. Creepy bushes dude is just that: creepy; and that probably won't change.
Some Statistics from RAINN
Two points, though (one, an anecdote):
1. I trust everyone I'm close to implicitly. I can't see one of them raping anyone, especially their loved ones... not for a moment.
2. I was one in a "jumped out of the bushes" type scenario. I was on the interstate on my way home from work at about 11:30 PM when I popped a tire. This was over a decade ago, and I had a cell phone, but it wasn't active or even charged, so I was SOL. Luckily, I was close to an offramp, so the area was fairly well-lit, and I went around to the back of my car to check the damage. My tire was shredded, and I had just popped a different one a week earlier, so no spare. Fuck. I stood there, staring at it for a minute, and when I looked up, there was a person running across six lanes of traffic from the other side of the interstate. By the time I was finished thinking, "what the fuck?" he was standing, panting, in front of me.
Him: Do you need help?
Me: Do you have a phone?
Him: I can take you to a phone
Me: That's cool. I'll just stay here and wait for help. Maybe you could call someone for me when you get off the highway?
Him: Come to my truck. My cell's in there.
I knew something was fishy before that, but I was then convinced he was a shady character. I launched myself over the trunk of my car, and mid-slide, he grabbed the collar of my shirt (a button-down) and ripped it open as I fell to the ground. He grabbed me by the neck, and that's where I sort of blacked out. I remember a little: screaming and cursing and flailing around. I remember my fist connecting with his face, and I remember him running back across the interstate, tugging at his pants, which, later I satisfactorily noted: he never got all the way down.
I went my car door, got in, locked all the doors, turned the radio up as loud as I could take it, lit a cigarette (thank the convenience store gods I had some), took a deep breath, and started sobbing. It took about twenty five minutes before I saw a cop car's flashing lights behind me.
I literally fell out of my car as I struggled to unlock and open the door. The tears of joy to see a cop surprised me, but I jumped up, ran to him, and hugged him. When I let go, I realized his hand was on his gun. He easily could have shot me or something.
I don't remember much after that. They had my car towed and I went to the station with the cops, where my mom met me with a shirt and a shoulder. They took a statement, and the next day I did a composite while the dude was literally locked in a cell downstairs. Turns out, he had managed to abduct another chick who had the good sense to cut and run from his truck at a red light, and she had picked up his license plate number.
So, the creepy bushes guy does happen, however, I was in a relationship in my very early twenties in which I got beat up and sexually assaulted regularly. In my opinion, those are the types of rapes we can prevent with education. Creepy bushes dude is just that: creepy; and that probably won't change.
