Yesterday I wrote about sexual assault and rape. I know it is an uncomfortable subject for many people, largely because it involves an intimate violation that most would rather pretend doesn’t exist. After going back through my notes and conversations, I’ve come to a troubling conclusion: while most people will say they are against rape, far fewer are willing to actually stand against it.

That distinction matters.

One of the most common ways this failure shows up is in how victims are treated—especially in courtrooms and public discourse. Defense strategies still routinely attempt to shift blame onto the victim: They were dressed slutty. They must have wanted it.

That argument is not just wrong—it fundamentally misunderstands what rape is.

Rape is not about sex. It is about control, domination, and humiliation. Sex is merely the mechanism. And yet, despite laws on the books, sexual assault is still prosecuted half-heartedly at best, while victims are interrogated as if they are the ones on trial.

A close friend of mine—who I mentioned yesterday—has been working, slowly and persistently, to convince state legislatures to pass resolutions condemning military sexual trauma. Not funding. Not policy changes. Just a formal condemnation. A statement that this is wrong.

I’ve sat beside him twice while such resolutions were brought before legislatures. In our home state, eight senators voted against it. Eight. I remember sitting there thinking: who, exactly, is voting in favor of rape?

A neighboring state passed the same resolution unanimously, which only made the contrast more infuriating.

It doesn’t take a political scientist to see what’s happening. While laws may not explicitly condone rape, our systems repeatedly protect perpetrators and scrutinize victims. We excuse, minimize, deflect, and delay. We ask what the victim wore, drank, said, or failed to do—anything to avoid holding someone accountable for their actions.

I’ve lived this personally.

Years ago, when I spoke about my own assaults, someone told me—without hesitation—“If you were a real man, you would have fought back.”

That comment came from someone who had lived a remarkably sheltered life, and it remains one of the most cruel and ignorant things ever said to me.

When someone has a hand on your throat, “fighting back” is not a moral test—it’s a fantasy. Even if I’d had the presence of mind, the only likely outcome would have been more injury. That comment didn’t show strength or wisdom; it showed how deeply people misunderstand trauma.

It’s right up there with another common deflection: “What if it were your mother or your sister?”

I understand the intent—to force empathy—but the premise is flawed. You shouldn’t need a personal connection to be outraged. You should be furious because it happened to someone. Full stop.

I genuinely do not understand why rape is still met with so little resistance. I want someone to explain it to me in very simple language—like I’m a kindergartener—because none of the adult explanations make sense.

Yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve spoken publicly about my assaults, but it was easier than the first time. Years ago, I taught de-escalation and violence-prevention classes for healthcare providers. A large portion covered sexual harassment and assault. One day, I finally found the intestinal fortitude to say out loud—to a room full of professionals—that I had been assaulted, and that it can happen to anyone, regardless of gender.

I don’t share this to gain sympathy. I share it to raise awareness. To remind people that the person sitting next to them—their coworker, friend, or neighbor—may be carrying something they’ve never spoken aloud.

Victims do not need to be coddled. We need people to stop raping other people. We need to stop blaming victims for crimes committed against them. Given how survivors are treated, it is absurd to assume false reporting is the norm. Reporting rape often feels like enduring a second assault. In some ways, the interrogation is more traumatizing than the crime itself.

That is why rape is underreported. And that is why many who do report it regret ever coming forward.

How do we fix it?

Honestly—I don’t think we do.

I know that sounds pessimistic. People will say change only happens if we fight for it. That would be comforting if it weren’t demonstrably false. Countless people have fought this battle for centuries, and yet here we are—still excusing, still minimizing, still protecting abusers who don’t want accountability.

So yes, I’m pessimistic. I don’t believe this will ever fully change. What can change is how we treat each other in the meantime. We can believe victims. We can stop asking the wrong questions. We can stop making excuses.

And for fuck’s sake—don’t rape.

I try to remember that my dog still sees the good in people. I try to remember that my mom taught me those lessons growing up. Some days that hope is harder to hold onto than others—but I’m still trying.

This post is part of the Notes From the Wasteland series.