Sex is one of the most powerful expressions of mutuality. We seek communion, including sexual communion, because we are vulnerable, because alone we cannot sustain ourselves.
Sex is one of the most powerful expressions of mutuality. We seek communion, including sexual communion, because we are vulnerable, because alone we cannot sustain ourselves.
In loving sexual acts we recognize our mutual vulnerability, our neediness.
We offer ourselves to the other, leaving ourselves open and exposed, for that is a condition for love.
When the other responds, we feel affirmed, we feel that we are not alone, exposed to the vicissitudes of life on our own.
Loving sexual acts allow us to feel protected in the knowledge that we are not alone, that someone is there who genuinely cares for and respects us, someone who is there to give not merely in order to receive, someone who in addition finds us attractive, appealing, good. This is very empowering.
But sex can also be a means to subjugate or humiliate others by treating them as mere instruments of desire and selfish affirmation, where the other is a mere means to an end.
The scourge of sexual violence in our divided city attests to the fact that love is rare, that the conditions are not there for love to flourish.
Taking into account the factors that facilitate the healthy expression of sexuality, it is no surprise that sexual abuse happens most often, and in its most disturbing forms, where conditions are such that human flourishing is almost impossible.
But even in places that are considered to be relatively good places for human flourishing, like Rhodes University, sexuality often manifests itself perversely.
I am a student at Rhodes and I wish to tell my story, which is exemplary of a widespread trend on campus.
We were friends. Last year we flirted and we ended up having sex.
I was hesitant to consider a repeat; he had a reputation for being a consumer of female bodies and I do not like the idea of being consumed.
But he was persistent, and seemed keen to continue what I hoped would be a mutually affirming relationship.
Five months after our initial affair, I was starting to feel guilty for not reciprocating his interest, feeling bad that I may be hurting him, so I agreed to go to his room in one of the Rhodes residences with the aim of once and for all finding peace.
Once in his room I initiated a conversation about what it was that I believed was going on between us.
He told me that he wasn’t sure how he felt, and that he didn’t want to commit to anything that could end badly.
Love requires making oneself vulnerable to others, and he was not prepared to take a risk. So he was not open to the possibility of love.
I was satisfied to realise this and to realise that we could continue being friends without the unresolved sexual tensions. The weight of guilt lifted from my shoulders.
We chatted aimlessly for a bit, until he said “I guess this is the part where I walk you home.” I nodded, and we walked towards the door.
Once at the door, things happened in a flash.
Instead of reaching over to open the door, as I expected, he switched off the light, pulled off my shirt and glued his lips to mine.
I laughed nervously, as people often do when not knowing how to react to the unexpected.
Smiling, I said ‘No’.
But he thrust his lips upon mine again, and pushed me towards the bed.
My subsequent protestations became progressively more emphatic.
I was terrified by his unyielding relentlessness.
For the first time in my life I realised how sexually vulnerable I was as a woman.
I finally managed to push myself free.
I heard him say something about how this could look like rape.
I just nodded. In an accusatory tone, which contradicted his first acknowledgment, he proclaimed, “You let me take my pants off!” and started ranting angrily.
Quite unexpectedly, after seeing that I was not in the least amused, he sarted laughing and told me that he was just kidding and condescendingly informed me that I shouldn’t take things so seriously.
I laughed with him and agreed that I shouldn’t take things so seriously.
That is the moment that I am most ashamed of.
I let him control my emotions, at least their outward manifestation. I tricked myself and him into thinking that what he did was okay, normal and not problematic at all, that me being offended by it was somehow my fault.
In this deceitful act I stopped myself from feeling the fear and disempowerment and anger that I should have been feeling at the time.
I reasoned that it wasn’t rape, so what happened was not really that bad.
Not long after the events detailed above I overheard him saying that, “Does it still count as ‘No’ when she is smiling when she says it?” I am certain that he wanted me to hear him ask this question.
What should I do?
He didn’t rape me.
And I don’t want to report him because I don’t want to be the one responsible for ruining his academic career or his future.
We were friends. I trusted him.
And, at the end of the day I don’t blame him for trying his luck.
I know what it feels like to want affirmation from someone.
I blame him for not stopping after I made my wishes clear.
I blame him for not responding to my vulnerability in a loving way, for making me feel like a voiceless piece of merchandise.
It took me a while fully to realise that, although he didn’t rape me, what he did still wasn’t okay.
Since then, I have spoken to a few female friends at Rhodes, and I was surprised to discover that my ordeal exemplifies a widespread experience.
Rhodes has a culture of sexual power play.
This is the culture responsible for unhealthy expressions of sexuality, such as “seal clubbing”, where senior male students compete with one another to have sex with as many first year female students as possible.
Tales of a divided city
Relections on our place [and its meanings]
This piece is an installment in a series of monthly reflections on our city. The aim is to generate conversation about our place and its meanings.
Laura de Lange is a MA student at the Department of Philosophy, Rhodes University and principle author of this piece. Pedro A. Tabensky, series editor and co-author of this piece, is the Director of the Allan Gray Centre for Leadership Ethics, located in the Department of Philosophy, Rhodes University.
