(While reading, please keep in mind that these are only my reflections; I do not claim to have any expertise here)
Yesterday, I attended SlutWalk DC; it was one of the most uncomfortable and insightful experiences of my summer. Imagine just sitting poolside with your feet and part of your legs in the water. You're in the water, but you're not submerged in the pool - that was my experience attending DC's SlutWalk. I was there, but wasn't all-in.
"SlutWalk" is a worldwide movement, to amongst other things protest and reject the practice of victim blamming regarding rape/sexual-assault. Moreover one of the central missions of the movemnent is to reject the power of the word "slut" and the notion of shaming based on personal expression or lifestyle choices. For more information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SlutWalk
So the first question is "why did I decide to go?" There are two reasons here: (1) I support women's and LGBT rights in the sense of people should be free to express their sexuality in any manner they desire and (2) I enjoy attending cultural events (marches/protests/etc.) in Washington D.C.
I came on the scene at 11 AM for the opening rally in Lafayette Square (it's actually across the street from the White House). If I had to do this again, I would have brought a friend along; however, this time I rode solo. And instead of interacting with other attendees, I just chilled from a bench in the square. During the time between the rally and the start of the march, to the area of the program proper, I simply watched what was happening right in front of me. I saw men and women in their underwear and other revealing clothing, which made an intriguing contrast with the tourists in their uniform family reunion blue t-shirts.
In My Notebook (while sitting down during the rally): "Why am I here? I'm just sitting on a park bench,taking it all in.
When the marching began, I took a while to join in. At first, I was just going to not march and skip ahead to the stage where the program would take place, but I decided against this because walking with the people in solidarity is part of the experience. Although I marched with the people, I remained silent the entire time. While others were shouting chants such as "consent is sexy," I was silent. Once again, I took it all in - police officers on motorcycles to my left, tourists and vendors to my right, and allies/fellow marchers in front and behind. Unlike the other marchers, I had no sign in my hands or no words in my mouth.
In My Notebook (while marching): "There's a big diff btw working in a campus center for LGBT rights and marching for it"
When we came to the Sylvan Theater, there was a good 30 minutes before the speeches began. I stood around on the grass and watched people with all types of bodies and who came from all sorts of places congregate for a common purpose - a good purpose. I was captivated by the signs - all direct, most of them clever. I took photos of the signs and walked around a bit. There was an overcast in the skies...
The SlutWalk program was powerful and perhaps the greatest illustration of this power was the combination of the wind, rain, and thunder. For me these natural elements were a reflection of the power and importance of this gathering for social justice. I decided to Tweet during this program:
Tweets between me and J:
J: " @ReggieGalloway Oh man, Reggie, how did the #Slutwalk go?"
Me: "@j I'll be honest J, it's powerful to hear the testimony and strength of rape survivors - but as a man, there's something uneasy here"
J: "@ReggieGalloway I'm sure. I think it's similar to what @r told me about listening to James Cone talk about #black #liberation."
Me: "@jit's never easy for a member of the transgressive group to hear and sincerely listen to the victims but it needs to happen justice"
While writing the last Tweet, I thought about how white allies of black civil rights activists must have felt during the movement back in the 1950s and 60s. I imagine it must have been difficult for them to hear about the atrocities and injustices committed against people of color throughout the country. In my situation, as a man, it was difficult to hear the testimony of rape survivors who had been sexually assaulted. There was one testimony that particularly shook me.
Before leaving the program, I listened intently to a speaker who was thrice a victim of rape. One of the three times she detailed occurred during the 1974 Race Riots in Boston. She talked about how she – an individual who worked to end segregation – was raped by a black man. I was shook, as if she had found me, looked me in the eyes, and told me that story. And she specifically said that the racial identities do matter in this story – why? I still don’t understand that and how race specifically fits into this larger issue – because tragically, sexual assault is a global issue that occurs in all cultures and racial groups (I also still have images of black youth in London and Philadelphia fresh in my mind).
My Tweet: “Just heard the testimony of a white female rape survivor who was sexually assaulted by a black man back in the race riots of '74 - shook me”
After that, I couldn’t take any more, it was a lot to take in and think about. The rain had stopped and I put on my headphones in order to escape. I put on something familiar in order to get lost in the music – Big Sean’s “My Last.” I think that specific testimony was something that hit me from left field and disrupted my understandings of the complicated interactions between black men and white women; it was the realization of the worst possibilities of miscegenation from D.W. Griffith’s A Birth of a Nation: the black savage man ravaging the pure white female. Big Sean’s lyrics offered me a moment of escape and fantasy (and ironically, its chorus is sung by Chris Brown):
Looking back on the Slutwalk, I’m glad I went. I learned a lot about how our society creates and perpetuates the conditions in which victims of rape and sexual assault are held partially responsible for what happens to them because of how others perceive them – and of course this is wrong. Self-expression is a right and no one’s body should be threatened as a result of exercising that right. I think the best way we can help is with two practices:
1. Zero-Tolerance for unwanted sexual advances.
2. Letting go of our preconceived notions and stereotypes regarding what a “slut” (clothing, sexual behaviors, etc.). For the most part, these are unfair burdens/double-standards placed upon women and even though it’s going to be difficult, these need to go.
Thanks for Reading.
