Cheerleader of sin

The stories had already been written. With each word strung to sing its syllable, each letter teased the tongue to talk. Except it wasn’t seduction, it was sin.

I’m sorry, I probably do not make sense yet. I live in a country that stalks, gropes and condones, and having been a victim of at least two of the three, I know what harassment feels like. The lasting sense of disgust, revulsion and loathing — I’ve felt it too, just like the most of you. But what I saw last week was a different form of abuse. What happened last week was an exchange of a name for shame.

I debate. A fellow debater, in a very emotional #metoo post, spoke of how she had been wronged and as a consequence, her feelings rejected. She described her ordeal in detail, the date, the bed, the sheets, the force, the scars and surprisingly, the names. She left nothing to doubt, she described both the green and the gory.

And then, she tagged her friends. She tagged their friends. She tagged acquaintances. She asked them to pick a side, then and there, as she silently dared them to dismiss her story this time. She was a victim and deserved to be heard, and this time, no noise would diminish her voice. She wanted to know if we would talk to them ever again, if we would associate with them in any way and most importantly, if we would be present within a 10 mile radius of their debating presence.

There were no witnesses. For their part, they put up their version of the events.

However, I had a slight problem, as did a few others. We barely knew her. Or them. We couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pick a side without knowing which account was correct and we definitely wouldn’t stop going to our debating tournaments just because they were probably going to be around. More power to you, we said, we admire your strength, we repeated. Honestly, we do not know if we meant it. She’s female, I’m female and in that, I sincerely felt for her plight.

The group launched into action, telling us off for not being there for her. They couldn’t possibly fathom how we couldn’t understand what she went through, with us being female ourselves. In the group, we became the reason why most perps got away. We were told that we did not understand power structures, or if we did, we chose to ignore it. They said that we probably wanted brownie points from them because they’re popular. We became the ‘arrogant cun*s’ and were ‘so narrow minded that each case of ours sounded nothing but fake now.‘

She posted screenshots of us getting told off by others in different other groups. We had failed her, and how dare we! None of our clarifications regarding our stances were posted, and when we tried, they asked us to apologise. Unconditionally. For victim blaming. For robbing her of her chance at justice.

Some institutions boycott us right now. I get asked how I could be cold and indifferent. I get asked compassionately if my insensitivity stems from prior experiences. In a debate round, arguments against my case were ad hominems — my lack of empathy towards a victim clearly winning them their substandard case.

Her post could’ve been true and her scars, real. But the story that she’d written around it, of us, of me, is a lie. It is eloquent, it is persuasive and it pricks into your rage.

But it is a lie.

Sometimes, rage is a cheerleader of sin.

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