SlutWalk protests: A dress is not a yes
When women hurl the word 'slut' at other women, we aren鈥檛 just buying into the lie that some of us deserve violence more than others. We鈥檙e also lying to ourselves about our own safety.
New York
I鈥檒l never forget the first time I called someone a slut.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was in the park with my friend Kate, who was telling me all about the party she had gone to the night before. I hadn鈥檛 been invited, and I wanted to be caught up on all the new gossip about our classmates and friends.
鈥淵ou should have seen how Bridget was dancing with this guy,鈥� Kate told me, her face screwed up in judgment. 鈥淗is hands were all over her butt.鈥�
鈥淲hat a slut!鈥� I said. We were 13.
I remember being surprised to hear the word coming out of my mouth. And I remember how Kate responded, agreeing with me, as we sat speculating about Bridget. She had probably made out with that guy. She had probably made out with lots of guys. No wonder he had his hands all over her butt, when her skirt was barely covering it. Bridget was a slut. I remember how good the word felt rolling over my tongue, and how talking about Bridget that way made me feel closer to Kate, as though she and I were in some club together 鈥� a club that Bridget wasn鈥檛 allowed to join. Because Bridget was a slut.
鈥淪lut鈥� is a powerful word. And thanks to a wave of feminist protests that has become a worldwide phenomenon, the word has been getting a lot of press lately.
Anger over a policeman's words
The SlutWalk protests were born out of anger at the words of one Toronto policeman, who earlier this year told a group of students that if women want to avoid being 鈥渧ictimized,鈥� they should avoid 鈥渄ressing like sluts.鈥� Cut to a few months later, and protests against this kind of reasoning 鈥� that it鈥檚 women鈥檚 responsibility to avoid rape, rather than men鈥檚 responsibility not to commit rape 鈥� are being held all over the world. SlutWalks were recently held in Los Angeles, Chicago, Sydney, and Cardiff, Wales. Soon, Edinburgh, New York, Johannesburg and Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan will follow suit.
Almost every woman out there has been called a slut at some point in her life. She鈥檚 probably called another woman a slut, too. Because so many women know what it feels like to have that word thrown at them, the SlutWalk phenomenon has caught fire, leading my colleague Jessica Valenti, co-founder of Feministing.com, to call them a model for what the future of feminism could look like. So many of us know how it feels to be shamed, ridiculed, or cast aside because we violated another person鈥檚 definition of acceptable sexual behavior.
The catalyst for the original Toronto protest was a comment from a law enforcement official, a man charged with enforcing laws against sexual violence. His words revealed an ugly truth: Even the people whose job it is to protect women believe that some of us 鈥� ones who dress 鈥渓ike sluts鈥� 鈥� bring violence on themselves, while other women 鈥� those who dress appropriately, whatever that means 鈥� deserve our sympathy when someone hurts them. Just as ugly, however, is the truth of how the word 鈥渟lut,鈥� and the attitude it represents, is used among women.
When women use the word 鈥渟lut鈥� to describe another woman, the word serves several functions. Firstly, it demonstrates a disapproval, or a disgust, for another person鈥檚 sexual life, or for her choice of clothes, or for her tendency to flirt, or for a host of other things I don鈥檛 have the column inches to list here.
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But secondly, and more disturbingly, making the distinction between 鈥渟luts鈥� and ourselves creates a false sense of safety. 鈥淪luts,鈥� we tell ourselves, are women who invite violence, and often, that invitation is answered. When 鈥渟luts鈥� are raped, police officers suspect they must have done something to deserve it. So as long as we aren鈥檛 sluts, we are safe. We won鈥檛 be raped, and if we are, the justice system will take care of us. We won鈥檛 be raped, and if we are, our friends and family will be sympathetic. We won鈥檛 be raped, and if we are, no one will say we deserved it.
213,000 victims
Unfortunately, this simply isn鈥檛 true. Though some protesters at SlutWalks are wearing 鈥減rovocative 鈥� clothing like fishnet stockings, corsets, and short skirts, others are wearing what they wore when they were raped 鈥� decidedly un-provocative jeans, sweatpants, school uniforms, or pajamas. For those women, and for the 213,000 people who are sexually assaulted every year in America, toeing the line and avoiding dressing 鈥渓ike sluts鈥� didn鈥檛 guarantee safety.
When women hurl that word at other women, we aren鈥檛 just buying into the lie that some of us deserve violence more than others. We鈥檙e also lying to ourselves about our own safety. We鈥檙e pretending that rape could never happen to us 鈥� that it鈥檚 something that happens to other women, women who bring it on themselves. And by endorsing that myth, we make it easier for men like that Toronto police officer to pick and choose who sees justice and who doesn鈥檛.
I couldn鈥檛 have understood all this at 13, when I called Bridget a slut. I didn鈥檛 understand the power of the word, and more importantly, the power of the idea that some women deserve protection and sympathy, while other women deserve what they get. I didn鈥檛 understand that building that clubhouse for me and Kate, and locking Bridget out of it, wouldn鈥檛 just hurt Bridget 鈥� it would hurt me and Kate, too. I understand that now. This summer, I鈥檒l be marching in the New York SlutWalk, to demolish the clubhouse and strip the word 鈥渟lut鈥� of its dangerous power. I owe it to Bridget, I owe it to Kate, and I owe it to women everywhere. And if you鈥檝e ever called someone a slut, you do, too.
Chloe Angyal is a writer from Sydney, Australia, who now lives in New York. She鈥檚 an editor at . She鈥檒l be speaking at SlutWalk NYC Aug. 20.