Some countries, most notably the United States, have named April as Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Some jurisdictions, including Ontario, observe Sexual Assault Prevention Month in May. Both are valuable, but that one word makes a huge difference.
Because after all, women don’t really need more awareness of sexual assault, do we? What we need is for it to stop. It’s hard to imagine a woman alive in Canada today who’s not aware of the reality and prevalence of sexual violence. That’s a privilege we don’t get to have.
And, of course, far too many people of other genders also experience sexual assault; according to a news release from the provincial government to mark this important month, “In Canada, one in three women and one in six men will experience sexual violence in their lifetime. Women are three times more likely to be stalked and four times more likely to be a victim of intimate partner violence.” Indigenous or racialized women and girls, or those in vulnerable groups such as women with disabilities, are even more likely to be assaulted.
Sexual violence includes many different kinds of assault, from incest and rape to stalking, harassment and trafficking. Many—most?—women who’ve never been raped likely have memories shoved away at the back of their minds about the classmate who groped them, the co-worker who sent unwanted suggestive texts, the family friend who hugged too enthusiastically, the stranger who exposed himself, the former partner who posted crude comments about them online. As a society, we’re finally learning that these assaults can’t be shrugged off as “minor,” given that they often have life-long effects.
So if we’re more aware of the nature and seriousness of sexual assault, are we doing enough to prevent it? Some days, it feels hard to answer that question with a yes. The more we learn about the pervasiveness of sexual assault in the military, or the extent of human trafficking even here in our quiet rural community, or the seemingly limitless capacity of social media users to degrade women online, the more we wonder if we’ve really moved any closer to ending sexual violence.
But perhaps there’s a little bit of comfort in knowing that greater, deeper awareness really has brought about change. Anyone over 40 can easily call to mind a time when the news and pop culture inevitably assumed women and girls who’d been assaulted had done something to invite it. Although the justice system isn’t perfect, judges are called to account when they rely on outdated stereotypes about rape and police are learning how the trauma of an assault affects a survivor’s behaviour. Allies of all genders raise their voices on social media when prominent women are unfairly sexualized and demeaned. Young people are being taught clear definitions of consent.
To be blunt, preventing sexual assault requires that men who commit these acts stop assuming they have the right to women’s bodies. Sexual violence will only end when those men and boys treat women and girls as equals who deserve to live free of fear, and recognize that they are responsible for their actions’ consequences, which go far beyond a throwaway comment or moment of forced physical contact.
Has awareness of sexual assault truly translated into prevention of sexual assault? No—not by a long shot. So we continue to speak up, to say no, to resist and to educate as we work for a world where everyone’s dignity is respected and their bodies are truly their own.
By Nancy Payne
