It was just after 2 a.m. on a pitch-black Friday morning when Bernadette Greene-Placentia’s life changed. The Democratic candidate for Congressional District 8 strolled across a parking lot to repair a damaged campaign sign. It was a routine she’d followed all summer. This time, she only made it a few yards.
An attacker smashed her over the head. She blacked out. She woke up to find a strange man on top of her.
Greene-Placentia struggled to open her eyes. She felt a sharp pain below her waist. The attacker was pulling his penis out of her.
She heard him mumble something like, “-ic bitch, not a very good fuck,” which her mind filled in as “Democratic bitch,” she recalled. She wasn’t sure that was exactly what he said.
One leg was out of her jean capris. She wore brand-new tennis shoes and a campaign t-shirt. Another man came over. Greene-Placentia felt his weight nudging her left leg further apart. She began swinging her foot at him. “Not even worth it,” she heard the man say as he moved away. He wore black boots and had small feet, she recalled.
The two men left Greene-Placentia face down in the parking lot. The hatch of her silver Jeep Grand Cherokee was still open. The car was still running. She heard music.
She doesn’t remember pulling up her pants or picking herself off the asphalt parking lot. She doesn’t remember closing her Jeep’s hatch and putting her foot on the gas. She doesn’t remember pulling her car into the driveway and collapsing into her bed.
“It’s just these little tiny flashes of things that I do remember,” Greene-Placentia said in an interview with Phoenix New Times. “As much as I don’t want to remember, I’ve tried very, very hard to remember more stuff. But that’s where I’m at.”
Every time rape culture comes into the limelight, I remember a party in college where a friend, well call her blue, was so drunk she was pants-off propositioning several people. All of us were like “Blue if you’re down tomorrow, that’s cool. But like, go to bed.”
Not Nick. Name not redacted. I went into their room and cock blocked. Straight to Nick “brother you’re way more cogent than her. This is rape, and everyone here knows it.”
Or, sorry to both sides here, but the time Jenna, name not redacted, came downstairs with a suggestive giggle and grin after we had all just helped our friend James (not his name) to bed, in his own home at his house for a graduation party. Jenna, that was rape. And I said it out loud to you in front of everyone. And you giggled like it was cute.
There’s a small percentage of humans among us that don’t respect others autonomy. They need to be outed. They need to be held accountable. We need them away from the rest of us.
Fuck you Nick. Fuck you Jenna.
Thanks for being the type of person to call that shit out in the moment.
I saved a friend of mine from a similar situation. I was living in a house with 5 people. She was shit faced. I came home and found her in the shower. Clothed. Passed out.
I got her changed (we were pretty close friends). And put her to bed.
Like a bit later I get up to check on her. Cause people can die from alcohol poisoning. I See her door is open. Go in and a fucking guy is in her bed.
Can you believe that !?
Some shit stain that was there for the party, from one of the other housemates was throwing.
I flipped out on him and cussed him out. He called me a bitch. Told me to mind my own fucking business. She was into it. …
He really wasn’t going to leave. I am pretty sure I threatened him with violence. (This was like 20 years ago).
Man, I was so angry. I’m still angry when I think about it.
I remember it was actually really hard to get him to leave. He didn’t think I had any right to tell him he couldn’t rape my friend. I do recall there being a lot of yelling.
I did finally get him to leave. And I told the housemate about it but she honestly didn’t care.
Next day I told my friend some shitty guy was in her bed but I chased him off. I tried to recall what he looked like. So she could figure out who he was. But I don’t think we figured it out for sure.
And cautioned her about Ashley’s “friends”.
She said she got in the shower because she realized how drunk she was and thought it would sober her up. And didn’t remember much after that.
Thank God I got off work in time.
A woman underestimates her alcohol consumption one fucking time and the vultures swoop in. In her own place.
Not safe anywhere.
The fucking nerve to argue over the right to keep raping someone blackout drunk!
Right?!
And he genuinely thought calling me a bitch and telling me to fuck off was going to work.
I wonder if such a tactic had worked for him in the past.
You know I was thinking about how back then we called it “taking advantage”. Not rape.
Like they just took an opportunity that presented itself. An opportunity that the victim created.
Morally gray. But not the same as rape. Which is only defined as when a sober woman is physically attacked and held down with force by a man. the term wasn’t really applied to many other scenarios.
No one used the word “rape” to describe assaulting an intoxicated person.
It was always “someone took advantage of them”.
And I think describing it that way was part of why it was pervasive. Acceptable. Common.
And even now it’s hard to get people prosecuted for rape when the victim is intoxicated.
Like somehow , them being incapable of escaping or resisting makes them willing and accepting by default.
I think in some ways , the rapist who physically attacks a sober woman is at least unashamedly acknowledging what they are doing.
Whereas the rapist who waits until his would-be victim is incapacitated and can’t fight back , and tells himself they wanted it, is a delusional sociopath. These are the types who go after children and teens too. The kind who groom. These predator types are more insidious.
I don’t remember it being called “taking advantage” except maybe when I was a kid and too young to really get it, but it’s really gross that people used to say that. Taking advantage of someone should mean overstaying your welcome or not picking up your fair share of the checks when you go out to eat, not raping someone too drunk to consent.
And I think you’ve got a great point there about the psychology of these people. I’m particularly aware of and concerned with sexual violence stemming from self delusion due to ways in which I’ve been victimized. These people seem to be the sort unable to handle a no or to do the flirtatious dance of figuring out that it’ll probably be a yes before they ask. So rather than finding someone who would say yes or becoming someone more people would say yes to, they find a person too drunk to consent, or someone too inexperienced to know better (especially minors), or they try to manipulate/pressure a no into a yes, or whatever other way that isn’t just straightforward finding someone who actually wants you.
Apparently plenty of people have no Idea that having sex with someone under influence of substances is rape. I’ve had this conversation with someone, who openly said the point of going to parties is to score with drunk girls.
We’re younger back then, I feel like he’s a better person now.