When I decided to take a white-saviour volunteer position as a boarding
mistress and teacher in an Indian school at the grand old age of eighteen, I
experienced a variety of reactions from family, friends and complete strangers.
However, two months before I left, when the Delhi gang rape and subsequent
protests hit headlines across the world, that all changed. The nigh universal
response became: “Have you really thought this through? Do you really want to
be a single woman on your own in India?” The company that had facilitated my placement even sent a carefully-worded email essentially offering me the chance to renege. The collective anxiety was contagious,
and I started to wonder if they were right.
The internet, however, was quick reassure me: the stats that
were being quoted were not indicative of the ‘rape crisis’ the media were
reporting, but of more women (and men) feeling they were able to report sexual
assault. In fact, the widespread sense of outrage made it seem like it might be
safer to go to India now than in any time in recent history. People’s
blindfolds had come off, and they weren’t willing to be passive about the
problem any longer.
Today, we are seeing a similar sense of outrage over the
mass sexual assaults that occurred on New Year’s Eve in Cologne, but whereas Indian
society stared into its soul and came away with conclusions about the way it
treats women, Germany is coming to conclusions about race and immigration. It’s
hardly surprising that the attacks – with their North African and Arab suspects
– have become a flashpoint for these issues, given that their multi-kulti policies and openness
towards asylum-seekers have been causing spiralling angst and concern about
retaining German culture (Heimatkultur)
in the face of unprecedented immigration.
However, the focus on race detaches the Cologne attacks from
what they actually were: sexual assault against women. Instead of recognising
that we still have problems with the way women are treated in supposedly egalitarian
Western countries, it becomes a matter of us
and them: they treat women like this, but we
do not. It’s a national exercise in cognitive dissonance that prevents any awareness
of institutionalised sexism and violence against women, and reduces blame to
individuals of other races.
But, if it’s them
and not us, then why is does my
office building have codes on the doors to the women’s bathrooms, but not the
men’s? Why do my male friends have to step in to deter unwelcome advances after
my own refusals are ignored? Why is it standard practice for women text each
other after a night out to confirm they’ve all got home safely and without
incident?
If it can’t possibly be us,
then why were the police so vastly unhelpful and dismissive that night,
apparently telling one woman who had been stripped of her clothes and underwear
to “keep a good grip on your champagne bottle to use as a weapon”? Why did an
initial report filed by the police in Cologne record a “mostly peaceful New
Year’s Eve” that was “relaxed” in atmosphere?
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