Rhiannon: Knock, knock.
Belissa: Who’s there?
Rhiannon: Rape joke.
Belissa: Rape joke? Rape joke who?
Both: Rape joke who’s not fucking funny. Don’t worry. We’re good victims.
Rhiannon: We won’t cry too loud, or demand your attention…
Belissa: Or ask for trigger warnings.
Both: Men like to use the excuse “boys get raped, too.”
Belissa: When they hear women talking about their personal experiences.
Rhiannon: First, “Boys get raped” should be its own sentence. If you’re only acknowledging their trauma to silence female survivors …
Both: Then you’re a scumbag. Second…
Belissa: All the male survivors we know…
Both: Would kick your teeth in for saying that.
Rhiannon: Your friends who aren’t survivors can’t sympathize with you until they know all the gory details.
Both: Please, get your porn somewhere else.
Rhiannon: Once you do get their sympathy…
Both: It sounds like…
Belissa: Someone cat-called me once, so I totally get it.
Rhiannon: Someone stepped on my foot last week…
Both: It was a man. I just felt so invaded.
Belissa: And to the boys who write poems…
Rhiannon: To raped girls, don’t worry. There’s good men out there.
Belissa: Go on, poet.
Rhiannon: The light at the end of such a dark tunnel.
Belissa: They’ll hold your hand in court and everything.
Both: Thank God I’ll get some thoughtful dick someday.
Belissa: You know those poets will tell you…
Rhiannon: “Violets are growing in the shadows under your eyes.”
Belissa: They’re not violets.
Both: It’s skin. I know it’s skin. It’s good skin. It’s gonna be skin regardless of what metaphors you attach to it.
Belissa: You’ll be there when I cry.
Rhiannon: Until my eyes get puffy and red.
Both: You won’t be tearing off my lace panties.
Belissa: Because they were expensive, and they make me feel like I’m worth something.
Both: Once you figure out that the only time I deep throat is with the feeding tube at the psych ward, you’ll be gone.
Rhiannon: If you do want a healing relationship…
Both: How do you talk about it when the language is rooting against you?
Belissa: Hey, want to bang?
Belissa: Nail me.
Both: Everything is so violent. How to flirt with a rape survivor: Approach slowly and cautiously. Do not make any sudden movements or loud noises.
Belissa: “Hey, baby, I’ve got anxiety, depression, PTSD, and crushing sexual insecurity.”
Rhiannon: “You want to come back to my place and hold my hair while I vomit?”
Belissa: And then there’s feminists who feel entitled to our poetry and narratives because, as they say…
Rhiannon: Under the patriarchy, like, all women are constantly threatened by rape.
Belissa: What does that make us?
Rhiannon: Hold on, Belissa, I’m turning into a statistic!
Belissa: Holy pepper spray, Batman!
Rhiannon: I can only see in binary. The wands look like penises.
Belissa: Quick, Ann! You’ve got to pull it together for…
Both: Slut Walk!
Belissa: Truly, nothing helps rape survivors of all gender, ethnicities, and economic level than rich white girls walking around half naked while collaborating with the police.
Rhiannon: Because the cops, historically, are so good at…
Both: Supporting victims and catching rapists.
Rhiannon: Getting real tired of Slut Walk slogans, too. “Don’t slut-shame me?” How about “Do not refer to me as a slut?”
Both: Ever. “Real men don’t rape?”
Belissa: Oh, shit!
Both: Must have been a ghost, then. “Consent is sexy?” Lingerie is sexy. Consent is a basic human right. You guys are supposed to be the adults we look up to, but we went through our moon goddess phase in seventh grade.
Rhiannon: Humor helps trauma.
Both: We just want to know that you’re laughing with us. We can joke about it because it’s ours to joke about, similar to how our bruises are ours to poke at and yours to keep away from.