#320 | Feminist Sunday

Gisèle Halimi, donc. Oh ouais. De manière peu surprenante mais tout de même décevante, il n'y avait presque pas d'hommes et peu d'étudiants. Mais peu importe, au fond. A quatre-vingt-trois ans, c'est une femme pleine de vitalité. Venant de quelqu'un qui a plaidé jusqu'au jour même de son accouchement dans sa jeunesse, on ne peut pas vraiment dire que ça, ce soit surprenant. C'est une femme qui ne croit pas que la jeunesse féminine soit une entité uniformément molle et passive. Et pendant que d'autres se plaignent, eh ben elle continue à faire des trucs. La Clause de l'Européeenne la plus favorisée, par exemple.
Brièvement : Gisèle Halimi c'est le procès politique pour le droit à l'avortement, c'est le manifeste des 343, et c'est aussi la réforme de la loi sur le viol avec le procès d'Aix-en-Provence (qui n'est pas sur Wikipédia). C'est aussi l'engagement contre la colonisation. Sérieusement, on lui doit (presque) tout.

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[L]et me explain to you what rape is, at least for me: Rape is nearly tearing out your fingernails by the roots trying to crawl away from someone who's pulling your pants down, and you can't decide if you should keep trying to get away or stop and pull your pants up. Rape is getting your face smashed against a stone fireplace, and leaving a piece of a tooth behind. Rape is being held down and feeling tears slip out the corners of your eyes and concentrating on that, the sensation of the cool tear trails, because you're being torn apart at your other end and it hurts, oh god how it hurts, but the pain is nothing compared to the indignity, the humiliation, the stupid and inexplicable embarrassment about what's happening to you.
Rape is struggling and resisting and succumbing and blaming yourself for not having escaped this fate, this feeling that your insides are being ripped out. Rape is desperately trying to stay inside your own head as your consciousness tries to flee from the horror of what's happening, is being aware of something severing and disassociating between your mind and your body and being unable (and worse, unwilling) to stop it, is feeling like the intangible thing that makes you a person is being irreparably broken.
Rape is being left in a pool of your own blood, thinking that death would be a relief from the pain and the shame and the utter, wretched brokenness of self you feel.
Rape is having lived longer as a survivor than I had a chance to live not as one. Rape is 20 years of post-traumatic stress disorder and counting. Rape is an indelible mark on my person that I struggle every day to give reason to, because letting it remain a senseless act is unbearable, and because pretending it didn't change me isn't honest.

Today in Rape Culture by Melissa at Shakesville. (Pas de traduction. Remuer le couteau dans la plaie ça va bien cinq minutes.)

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Mais parce que la vie c'est aussi du lol :

Privilege Denying Dude.

Un meme intelligent. Lol. (Il existait sur un Tumblr du même nom avant que celui-ci soit supprimé pour des questions de droits d'auteurs (backlash anyone?). Mais il est tristement drôle quand même.)

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