I was recently invited to an event discussing the death penalty, with the same title as this post. There would be a screening of a film, a panel discussion, and some free form discussion on the topic. I was urged strongly to come by my friend Jeff, who was moderating the event.
This isn't a topic I've thought much about until recently. As you may have read, my recent post entitled A New Command I Give You discussed the implications of the death penalty and revenge against criminals as a whole. I also recounted my experience as a juror in this post, which is my still my most influencing experience with the justice system.
Going into the event, I considered myself quite clearly against the death penalty for no other reason than I thought it wrong. I vaguely recognized that the death penalty put blood on our hands ('our' being the jurors, the judge and attorneys, the legislature, and the citizens of the state whom these people all represent), and I didn't like this. I knew that I supported forgiveness over retribution (in principal, at least, if not in practice). But these ideas were unformed and generic.
I was intrigued to hear these ideas fleshed out, as well as new ideas that hadn't come to me before this event.
1. The death penalty is expensive
The standard statistic is that a death row inmate costs 3 times what a life prisoner does. The statistics are slightly more significant in Texas, although each state varies.
Does this convict me to oppose the death penalty? Not really, but it's an important issue to discuss when considering a change in law.
2. The death penalty doesn't work
To punish a killer by killing is irrational. To teach the community that killing is wrong by killing the killer is backwards. There may be an argument that the death penalty keeps the killer from killing again, but life in prison accomplishes the same goal without the destruction.
This is a little more convincing. I believe punishment should have a heart of discipline, which produces change instead of resentment. We can't help a person overcome their shortcomings to reach a better life if we just kill them off. I would much rather see them learn, grow, be healed, and mature during the course of their life.
3. Family of victims who are avenged by the death penalty rarely move on
This is a soft statistic, but it's demonstrated in the film screened at the event. Victims (or families of victims) deserve to move on from their tragedy. If they don't move on, they become trapped in a life of resentment and bitterness, tainting the entire world around them through the lense of their tragedy. Those who forgive the criminal to the point where they don't seek revenge seem to move on to a more productive, happy life much easier than those who seek revenge through the death penalty.
Now we're getting somewhere. I know most people don't care much about the criminal, since "he made his choice," but now we're talking about the benefit of the victims. There's still some trouble with this argument, though, since many people don't put much stock in intangible ideas like forgiving and "moving on." But I think common sense supports the far and wide benefit of a joyful life over a resentful one.
4. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind
A point was raised by a panelist about the original "eye-for-an-eye" laws found in the early chapters of the Bible. He said that this principal isn't in line with our gut instincts. That our gut instincts would say "he took my eye, so I'll take both of his eyes, steal his wife, and burn his house down." So to tell an early culture that you should just take what they took from you was revolutionary! It demonstrated control and consideration, rather than raw vengeance. Today, we even consider "eye-for-an-eye" to be barbaric because of how we've learned the principal of control and consideration in our culture.
This blows me away, partly because I learned something new about one of the oldest 'rules' in the world. But mostly, it starts to put a voice to what I believe. We may think we've moved miles past the olden days of "eye-for-an-eye," but the death penalty shows that our animalistic tendencies still push us toward flagrant revenge. Once we recognize this, we can see the death penalty for what it is: murder by the state. Whether just or unjust, it is, most basically, revenge for what they did to us.
5. We are all human, and we are all broken
This sums up the entire issue for me. It also cuts to the heart of racism, homophobia, nationalism, and many other major issues in our world. When we see people as people, it becomes much harder to mistreat them.
But that's just it. We don't see all people as people. Black people have been identified as sub-human, undeserving of the rights white people claim. Foreigners have been dubbed barbarians, their lifestyle fit to be destroyed. Gay people have been called mentally unbalanced, making it ok to treat their identity like a disease that should be eradicated through drugs. And people who have made mistakes different from our own have been called criminals, allowing us to treat them as scum rather than trying to help them work through their wounds that took them so far off track in the first place.
I'll leave your conclusions to you, but my decision is to oppose the death penalty. I would be interested to hear any opposing arguments if you would like to share them.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
My Childhood Fantasy
Recently, I volunteered to help out my favorite radio station (yes, I'm going to plug it now!), 89.7 Power FM. It transmits here in the DFW area, and a little bit north into Oklahoma. They also transmit through an iPhone App and their website, kvrk.com.
My favorite thing about the station is their music. They play stuff that just doesn't make radio very often. The genre is Christian Rock, and they play anything from Third Day to Demon Hunter, which includes a great mix of Relient K, Audio Adrenaline, Run Kid Run, and several other artists that fall into my top 20 list.
But a close second (and often fighting for first) is their conviction. They are first and foremost a ministry. The station reaches a lot of teens who shy away from Christian music because of quality, or just because they don't enjoy the sound of the Contemporary Christian genre. The station has even kept their set up as a listener-supported station, running solely off of the donations of their listeners and including plenty of Christian material in their productions.
OK, plug done. The real point of my story is what happened the night I volunteered. I came in to help process calls for their donation drive, but with the load lighter than expected, the volunteers had a lot of time to hang out, help the DJ fill out the night's playlist, and keep the staff entertained. During the evenings, the DJ's like to come up with challenges for the listeners, and they often involve a reward for reaching a donation milestone, so we helped the DJ brainstorm.
Tonight's reward? Well, it was more of a punishment, and we suggested people call in with donations to prevent it. If we didn't get enough calls, we, the DJ and volunteers, would sing to them.
We told listeners how unfortunate it would be to lose the quality music on this station, and if they lost it, they might have to listen to something more like us. Singing A Capella renditions of their favorite rock songs. At least it's better than dead air! OK, even that's a stretch.
Funny enough, we immediately got a few more calls, but none of them begged us to abstain. So we kept up the premise, sifted through a list of classic Christian Rock songs, and we settled on one to sing at the end of the 9:00 hour before we all went home. We were to sing Jesus Freak.
The time came, and we put on the DC Talk track in the background. From the first chord through the refrain, we belted it out for the world to hear. It wasn't pretty, and there were times only one of us knew the lyrics, but we did it. I even had a moment during TobyMac's 2nd verse, when nobody else knew the words by heart, so I sang solo into the live microphone. For literally 15 seconds, I had my 15 seconds of fame.
I didn't put the two thoughts together until the end of the night, when we were all going our own ways, but the situation felt familiar. There was a sense of deja vu about it. It hadn't happened before, but I realized that I had imagined it before. Like many songs I enjoyed singing along with in my childhood, at some point I imagined rocking out in front of a microphone. It didn't matter if it was in a recording studio, a live stage, or a DJ's booth, the fantasy had me belting out my favorite songs to an audience.
Since I wanted this so badly when I was young, I had to challenge myself with the big question: Was it everything you dreamed? Considering the fantasy also included a sold-out show or a million-man fan base, nighttime radio probably fell a bit short. And I think we sang a closer resemblance to track 9 on the CD (Jesus Freak - Reprise) than to the popular single (look it up if you don't remember... it's worth the laugh!). But at least I remembered the words, my voice didn't crack on the high notes, and it was fun! Since I apparently didn't dream of curing cancer or traveling to Mars when I was a kid, my dream was nicely obtainable.
But I want to push it a step further: Would my 13-year-old self be proud? That's tough. Why did I want musical success at that age? Was it the fun, or was it the fame?
Unfortunately, I think it was more about the fame. I saw the way the world reacted to great singles like Jesus Freak, and I noticed the way I felt listening to the music. I wanted to have that effect on people, and I think I wanted them to recognize me for it.
I think I've always been caught between the idea of making a big impact and being recognized for the impact I make. I know the impact is good, but too often I drift toward recognition. I hear myself narrating an interview in my head or wonder how my actions would look in newsprint. I daydream that through an accidental run-in with a member of the press, I'm suddenly the center of a great news story. Maybe I even end up on Good Morning America and the Today Show before it's all over!
In the 14 years since I was 13, I've continued to struggle with the allure of fame. Whether it's the thought of publishing an essay in a scholarly journal or giving a presentation to a large crowd, the idea of fame still tries to drive me from my path. And in those 13 years, I've learned that aspiring for fame before function is like aiming for Mars when you need to reach the Moon. You might make progress, but you'll never hit your target.
I'm learning this lesson slowly. Now, instead of hoping for a run-in with the press, I worry about it. Instead of seeking recognition, I avoid it. I don't do this because fame is bad, but because I know I have a problem with fame the way alcoholics have a problem with alcohol. I'm afraid that once I get a taste of it, I'll just keep searching for more.
As I'm writing this, I haven't heard from anyone who recognized my voice on the radio. At first I wanted to, knowing there would be more curious looks than compliments, so that I could recount and relive my 15 seconds of fame. I wanted to know just how crazy we were and just how bad it sounded. I wanted to know if they were impressed by my rendition of TobyMac or if it left something to be desired.
But I think it's better if I don't. My 13-year-old self may kick me in the shins for letting this moment go, but at the wise old age of 27, I think I'm happy just to keep the memories.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
My favorite thing about the station is their music. They play stuff that just doesn't make radio very often. The genre is Christian Rock, and they play anything from Third Day to Demon Hunter, which includes a great mix of Relient K, Audio Adrenaline, Run Kid Run, and several other artists that fall into my top 20 list.
But a close second (and often fighting for first) is their conviction. They are first and foremost a ministry. The station reaches a lot of teens who shy away from Christian music because of quality, or just because they don't enjoy the sound of the Contemporary Christian genre. The station has even kept their set up as a listener-supported station, running solely off of the donations of their listeners and including plenty of Christian material in their productions.
OK, plug done. The real point of my story is what happened the night I volunteered. I came in to help process calls for their donation drive, but with the load lighter than expected, the volunteers had a lot of time to hang out, help the DJ fill out the night's playlist, and keep the staff entertained. During the evenings, the DJ's like to come up with challenges for the listeners, and they often involve a reward for reaching a donation milestone, so we helped the DJ brainstorm.
Tonight's reward? Well, it was more of a punishment, and we suggested people call in with donations to prevent it. If we didn't get enough calls, we, the DJ and volunteers, would sing to them.
We told listeners how unfortunate it would be to lose the quality music on this station, and if they lost it, they might have to listen to something more like us. Singing A Capella renditions of their favorite rock songs. At least it's better than dead air! OK, even that's a stretch.
Funny enough, we immediately got a few more calls, but none of them begged us to abstain. So we kept up the premise, sifted through a list of classic Christian Rock songs, and we settled on one to sing at the end of the 9:00 hour before we all went home. We were to sing Jesus Freak.
The time came, and we put on the DC Talk track in the background. From the first chord through the refrain, we belted it out for the world to hear. It wasn't pretty, and there were times only one of us knew the lyrics, but we did it. I even had a moment during TobyMac's 2nd verse, when nobody else knew the words by heart, so I sang solo into the live microphone. For literally 15 seconds, I had my 15 seconds of fame.
I didn't put the two thoughts together until the end of the night, when we were all going our own ways, but the situation felt familiar. There was a sense of deja vu about it. It hadn't happened before, but I realized that I had imagined it before. Like many songs I enjoyed singing along with in my childhood, at some point I imagined rocking out in front of a microphone. It didn't matter if it was in a recording studio, a live stage, or a DJ's booth, the fantasy had me belting out my favorite songs to an audience.
Since I wanted this so badly when I was young, I had to challenge myself with the big question: Was it everything you dreamed? Considering the fantasy also included a sold-out show or a million-man fan base, nighttime radio probably fell a bit short. And I think we sang a closer resemblance to track 9 on the CD (Jesus Freak - Reprise) than to the popular single (look it up if you don't remember... it's worth the laugh!). But at least I remembered the words, my voice didn't crack on the high notes, and it was fun! Since I apparently didn't dream of curing cancer or traveling to Mars when I was a kid, my dream was nicely obtainable.
But I want to push it a step further: Would my 13-year-old self be proud? That's tough. Why did I want musical success at that age? Was it the fun, or was it the fame?
Unfortunately, I think it was more about the fame. I saw the way the world reacted to great singles like Jesus Freak, and I noticed the way I felt listening to the music. I wanted to have that effect on people, and I think I wanted them to recognize me for it.
I think I've always been caught between the idea of making a big impact and being recognized for the impact I make. I know the impact is good, but too often I drift toward recognition. I hear myself narrating an interview in my head or wonder how my actions would look in newsprint. I daydream that through an accidental run-in with a member of the press, I'm suddenly the center of a great news story. Maybe I even end up on Good Morning America and the Today Show before it's all over!
In the 14 years since I was 13, I've continued to struggle with the allure of fame. Whether it's the thought of publishing an essay in a scholarly journal or giving a presentation to a large crowd, the idea of fame still tries to drive me from my path. And in those 13 years, I've learned that aspiring for fame before function is like aiming for Mars when you need to reach the Moon. You might make progress, but you'll never hit your target.
I'm learning this lesson slowly. Now, instead of hoping for a run-in with the press, I worry about it. Instead of seeking recognition, I avoid it. I don't do this because fame is bad, but because I know I have a problem with fame the way alcoholics have a problem with alcohol. I'm afraid that once I get a taste of it, I'll just keep searching for more.
As I'm writing this, I haven't heard from anyone who recognized my voice on the radio. At first I wanted to, knowing there would be more curious looks than compliments, so that I could recount and relive my 15 seconds of fame. I wanted to know just how crazy we were and just how bad it sounded. I wanted to know if they were impressed by my rendition of TobyMac or if it left something to be desired.
But I think it's better if I don't. My 13-year-old self may kick me in the shins for letting this moment go, but at the wise old age of 27, I think I'm happy just to keep the memories.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Monday, April 22, 2013
A New Command I Give You
A week ago today, a tragedy occurred at the hands of two individuals. At least 3 lives were ended by their choices, and hundreds were injured. For 2 days, US intelligence investigated the crime while the country honored the dead and injured. For 2 days, law enforcement hunted the suspects while the country did their best to help. And for the 3 days since the capture of the final suspect, the country has become inundated with a resurgence of verbal violence.
I can understand the reaction. We, as a country, were attacked and hurt. Families have been forever changed as a result of the attack. People want retribution. They want the criminals to get what they deserve. They want justice.
Normally, justice would be served in a courtroom. Opposing groups of lawyers would present evidence and lack thereof. A judge would preside to ensure the laws were upheld, that neither side was treated unfairly. A jury of 12 average Americans would hear the evidence, and they would finally be asked to decide the accused person's fate. They would assign the proper punishment based on the evidence, whether that be fines, community service, jail time, or death.
What surprised me first after Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was captured was the energy of the crowds in Boston. While the suspect in the procession of emergency vehicles back to the police station, the city emerged after days of lockdown to give each one a hero's welcome. But the energy of the crowd was something more than excitement. It seemed vindictive.
The city wasn't just proud of law enforcement for "catching the bad guy," they were ready to assign punishment. Parts of the crowd looked like they came out to catch a glimpse of the bad guy so they could do their worst to him.
The next morning, I read that Dzhokhar hadn't been Mirandized. This was done initially, but the formal decision would take time. The news media said the decision may hold. The suspect may not be allowed an attorney, and he may not be allowed due process at all. I read that the 19 year old boy who moved to the US at the age of 8 might be tried as a foreign terrorist.
From this point forward, what surprised me most were the jeers. Social media was full of angry, violent, and vengeful statements about what Dzhokhar deserved. He should be tossed in a pit and left to die. He should rot in prison. He deserves the death penalty.
Finally, I realized why this all sounded so wrong. I knew Dzhokhar had a major part in causing the tragedy in Boston. I knew he would be punished in a method and severity to be determined by a court. Somehow, I knew that was enough. Somehow, I knew the jeers of society weren't necessary.
I thought back to last April, when I sat on the jury for a murder trial.
The crime took place between old friends, practically brothers. The victim had started to poke fun at the defendant after the defendant's girlfriend had done the same. The defendant had a medical condition, and the joking came at the expense of his condition. He tried to get his friends to stop, but they wouldn't. He walked away, but the jokes continued. He told his friend to leave, but again poking fun at his condition, the victim asked "What are you gonna do? Make me?" The defendant picked up a kitchen knife in threat, and his friend was killed when he lunged to take the knife from the defendant.
For 4 days, I sat with 11 other jurors unable to talk about the case. We heard statements about the incident, statements from both mothers, and the police involved. We had to look at autopsy pictures and hear a statement from the pathologist who detailed his wounds. We knew full well the impact of this man's actions.
But when it came to the fifth day, we agreed on something else: this man had lived for 6 years knowing that his oldest friend was killed by a knife that he held in his hand.
We couldn't call it murder, because we don't think he ever intended to cause harm, but maybe he did. So, wWe assigned a verdict of manslaughter, and shortly after gave the man the minimum 5 year prison sentence.
We hesitated to make this decision, because we didn't want the victim's mother to feel justice wasn't served. We hesitated, because society would clearly say that he deserved worse for ending a human life. What got us past our hesitation was the thought of mercy.
Suddenly, in the midst of our discussion, we knew that we held a huge gift in our hands. While we had the power to assign life in prison, we also held the power to show mercy. We could look this man in the eye, all understanding what had come to pass, and we could give him a second chance. We could give him less than he deserved.
Today, I see Dzhokhar Tsarnaev sitting in the defendant's seat. I see a boy of 19 who did something awful. I see someone who couldn't have been in his right mind, whether brainwashed or mentally ill. I see someone with so many years ahead of him that he could learn to love. I see someone who needs a second chance.
We could join in with the rest of the country to shout "crucify!" to the courts. We could join in with jeers of our own, urging for the most severe punishment the law allows and more. We could strive toward an eye-for-an-eye punishment.
Or we could choose to love our enemies.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
I can understand the reaction. We, as a country, were attacked and hurt. Families have been forever changed as a result of the attack. People want retribution. They want the criminals to get what they deserve. They want justice.
Normally, justice would be served in a courtroom. Opposing groups of lawyers would present evidence and lack thereof. A judge would preside to ensure the laws were upheld, that neither side was treated unfairly. A jury of 12 average Americans would hear the evidence, and they would finally be asked to decide the accused person's fate. They would assign the proper punishment based on the evidence, whether that be fines, community service, jail time, or death.
What surprised me first after Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was captured was the energy of the crowds in Boston. While the suspect in the procession of emergency vehicles back to the police station, the city emerged after days of lockdown to give each one a hero's welcome. But the energy of the crowd was something more than excitement. It seemed vindictive.
The city wasn't just proud of law enforcement for "catching the bad guy," they were ready to assign punishment. Parts of the crowd looked like they came out to catch a glimpse of the bad guy so they could do their worst to him.
The next morning, I read that Dzhokhar hadn't been Mirandized. This was done initially, but the formal decision would take time. The news media said the decision may hold. The suspect may not be allowed an attorney, and he may not be allowed due process at all. I read that the 19 year old boy who moved to the US at the age of 8 might be tried as a foreign terrorist.
From this point forward, what surprised me most were the jeers. Social media was full of angry, violent, and vengeful statements about what Dzhokhar deserved. He should be tossed in a pit and left to die. He should rot in prison. He deserves the death penalty.
Finally, I realized why this all sounded so wrong. I knew Dzhokhar had a major part in causing the tragedy in Boston. I knew he would be punished in a method and severity to be determined by a court. Somehow, I knew that was enough. Somehow, I knew the jeers of society weren't necessary.
I thought back to last April, when I sat on the jury for a murder trial.
The crime took place between old friends, practically brothers. The victim had started to poke fun at the defendant after the defendant's girlfriend had done the same. The defendant had a medical condition, and the joking came at the expense of his condition. He tried to get his friends to stop, but they wouldn't. He walked away, but the jokes continued. He told his friend to leave, but again poking fun at his condition, the victim asked "What are you gonna do? Make me?" The defendant picked up a kitchen knife in threat, and his friend was killed when he lunged to take the knife from the defendant.
For 4 days, I sat with 11 other jurors unable to talk about the case. We heard statements about the incident, statements from both mothers, and the police involved. We had to look at autopsy pictures and hear a statement from the pathologist who detailed his wounds. We knew full well the impact of this man's actions.
But when it came to the fifth day, we agreed on something else: this man had lived for 6 years knowing that his oldest friend was killed by a knife that he held in his hand.
We couldn't call it murder, because we don't think he ever intended to cause harm, but maybe he did. So, wWe assigned a verdict of manslaughter, and shortly after gave the man the minimum 5 year prison sentence.
We hesitated to make this decision, because we didn't want the victim's mother to feel justice wasn't served. We hesitated, because society would clearly say that he deserved worse for ending a human life. What got us past our hesitation was the thought of mercy.
Suddenly, in the midst of our discussion, we knew that we held a huge gift in our hands. While we had the power to assign life in prison, we also held the power to show mercy. We could look this man in the eye, all understanding what had come to pass, and we could give him a second chance. We could give him less than he deserved.
Today, I see Dzhokhar Tsarnaev sitting in the defendant's seat. I see a boy of 19 who did something awful. I see someone who couldn't have been in his right mind, whether brainwashed or mentally ill. I see someone with so many years ahead of him that he could learn to love. I see someone who needs a second chance.
We could join in with the rest of the country to shout "crucify!" to the courts. We could join in with jeers of our own, urging for the most severe punishment the law allows and more. We could strive toward an eye-for-an-eye punishment.
Or we could choose to love our enemies.
"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples." (John 13:34-35, NIV)
"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well." (Matthew 5:38-40, NIV)
"You’re familiar with the old written law, 'Love your friend,' and its unwritten companion, 'Hate your enemy.' I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst." (Matthew 5:43, MSG)
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Rape Culture
A friend encouraged me to address this issue. I would be remiss if I didn't give her credit. Do me a favor, and stop by her website when you have a chance.
There's been a term thrown around that surprised me when I heard it. Lately, the term has become more and more common. The term: Rape Culture.
People have said that we, the US primarily, live in a Rape Culture. My first reaction was shock and doubt. I've never felt like rape was ok, neither taught to me by teachers, parents, or superiors, nor implied by my peers. It. Is. Just. Wrong.
I've had to consider why anyone would think we live in a Rape Culture. Their experiences must have given them reason. Something must have happened.
Once, a friend opened up to me briefly about her rape. I had always heard that rape is difficult to address because the secrecy associated with it. Not just by the aggressor, but by the victim also. To learn of my friend's experience was shocking, to say the least. It was also troubling.
It made me wonder how many more women I know had been victimized like this. How many more men in my town have made the same despicable choice as the one who violated my friend.
In the past few months, we've seen signs of a Rape Culture in the US. Three times we've heard stories of teens who raped a girl while she was inebriated. Three times we've heard stories of cell phone pictures of the act itself spread virally throughout the school before the authorities stepped in. More than once, the victim has reached the point of suicide after the blow to her reputation, and through the unfortunate shame common to most rape victims.
I've started to see the Rape Culture in the world around me. The statistics are staggering. The effect on the victims are mortifying. Yet somehow I hear jokes like "Rape is just surprise sex" from people trying to make light of the reality of rape. To echo a cliche from my previous post, "the Devil's biggest trick was convincing the world he doesn't exist." In the same spirit, rape can't be addressed until we acknowledge the problem.
Knowing the reality of our Rape Culture, I ask you a question in the same way it was posed to me: What, exactly, needs to be done?
We certainly can't sit quietly while this vile Rape Culture continues. But what can we do? Do we consider these isolated events as the products of twisted minds, or are they symptoms of a twisted culture? Do we work to more severely punish rape, or do we look for the underlying societal conditions that have allowed it? Do we teach women to defend themselves, or do we raise men to be more respectful of the women around them?
After quite a bit of thought, my answer is Yes.
Yes, rape occurs when someone's ethics, priorities, and rationality become twisted, and it continues to happen because our culture allows it. Yes, rape deserves severe punishment and swift justice, and Yes, we need to change the societal conditions that somehow foster a Rape Culture. Yes, women should be able to defend themselves, and Yes, we should raise men to be respectful enough of women to abolish all need for their defense.
I honestly can't choose one solution to this problem. To narrow down our attack to only one position would be to guarantee a losing battle. As a society, we need to proclaim that rape is not acceptable. We need to demand punishment for rapists and resources to heal their victims. We need to shout a vehement NO to Rape Culture and never stand down.
My first draft included a call to respect women with a long list of reasons why they deserve it. But now, I think a logical defense of women's respect is empty. To boil their quality down to a list is an injustice. Do you know why women deserve respect? Because they do. Period. If you disagree, I suggest you tell me to my face, because there are plenty of things I'd like to say to yours.
I've come to appreciate the term Zero Tolerance in the writing of this post. I think that's exactly the trend that will get us to the end of this unimaginable societal flaw. Starting now, join with me in showing Zero Tolerance to Rape Culture.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
There's been a term thrown around that surprised me when I heard it. Lately, the term has become more and more common. The term: Rape Culture.
People have said that we, the US primarily, live in a Rape Culture. My first reaction was shock and doubt. I've never felt like rape was ok, neither taught to me by teachers, parents, or superiors, nor implied by my peers. It. Is. Just. Wrong.
I've had to consider why anyone would think we live in a Rape Culture. Their experiences must have given them reason. Something must have happened.
Once, a friend opened up to me briefly about her rape. I had always heard that rape is difficult to address because the secrecy associated with it. Not just by the aggressor, but by the victim also. To learn of my friend's experience was shocking, to say the least. It was also troubling.
It made me wonder how many more women I know had been victimized like this. How many more men in my town have made the same despicable choice as the one who violated my friend.
In the past few months, we've seen signs of a Rape Culture in the US. Three times we've heard stories of teens who raped a girl while she was inebriated. Three times we've heard stories of cell phone pictures of the act itself spread virally throughout the school before the authorities stepped in. More than once, the victim has reached the point of suicide after the blow to her reputation, and through the unfortunate shame common to most rape victims.
I've started to see the Rape Culture in the world around me. The statistics are staggering. The effect on the victims are mortifying. Yet somehow I hear jokes like "Rape is just surprise sex" from people trying to make light of the reality of rape. To echo a cliche from my previous post, "the Devil's biggest trick was convincing the world he doesn't exist." In the same spirit, rape can't be addressed until we acknowledge the problem.
Knowing the reality of our Rape Culture, I ask you a question in the same way it was posed to me: What, exactly, needs to be done?
We certainly can't sit quietly while this vile Rape Culture continues. But what can we do? Do we consider these isolated events as the products of twisted minds, or are they symptoms of a twisted culture? Do we work to more severely punish rape, or do we look for the underlying societal conditions that have allowed it? Do we teach women to defend themselves, or do we raise men to be more respectful of the women around them?
After quite a bit of thought, my answer is Yes.
Yes, rape occurs when someone's ethics, priorities, and rationality become twisted, and it continues to happen because our culture allows it. Yes, rape deserves severe punishment and swift justice, and Yes, we need to change the societal conditions that somehow foster a Rape Culture. Yes, women should be able to defend themselves, and Yes, we should raise men to be respectful enough of women to abolish all need for their defense.
I honestly can't choose one solution to this problem. To narrow down our attack to only one position would be to guarantee a losing battle. As a society, we need to proclaim that rape is not acceptable. We need to demand punishment for rapists and resources to heal their victims. We need to shout a vehement NO to Rape Culture and never stand down.
My first draft included a call to respect women with a long list of reasons why they deserve it. But now, I think a logical defense of women's respect is empty. To boil their quality down to a list is an injustice. Do you know why women deserve respect? Because they do. Period. If you disagree, I suggest you tell me to my face, because there are plenty of things I'd like to say to yours.
I've come to appreciate the term Zero Tolerance in the writing of this post. I think that's exactly the trend that will get us to the end of this unimaginable societal flaw. Starting now, join with me in showing Zero Tolerance to Rape Culture.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Monday, April 15, 2013
Our Hearts Go Out to Boston
As the news came in, I was in shock.
I watched a web feed of the race in the morning, pulling for all of my favorite runners, and staring in amazement at the mile splits the athletes pulled off, mile after mile. I watched my facebook feed fill up with words of praise for the winners, and encouragement for friends who were still running the course.
This can't be happening.
I talked with coworkers about the give and take as a handfull of elite runners moved in and out of the lead. I shook my head thinking of the training plans. Two-a-day runs. 100 mile weeks. 8-mile speed work sessions at a pace I can't even hold for 1 mile.
Who would do such a thing?
I considered the thousands of runners who trained for years just to qualify for this race. People like me, who might not possess any unusual amount of athletic ability, yet trained and trained to make it under their 3:30, 3:20, or 3:10 qualifying time. The people who finally reached their goal of running the Boston Marathon.
How many were injured?
As I watched the 117th running of the most prestigious marathon in the country, I thought of its history. The race was run before the marathon became a 26.2 mile race. The race was run for 75 years before women started to compete in these events, now taking up over 40% of the field.
How many were killed?
I remembered the fable of Heartbreak Hill. It was 1936 when defending champion, Johnny Kelley, passed Ellison Brown for the lead on the last of the 4 Newton Hills, just past mile 20. When passing, Johnny gave his competitor a consoling pat on the shoulder, planning for a repeat victory. But Brown wasn't fading, he was just holding back. Brown came back for the win, breaking Johnny's heart.
Is it over yet?
On days like today, I'm always torn between heartbreak, fear, and the desire to make it all go away. Today, I choose to do something about it.
I'm calling all runners to join with me in support of the victims at the Boston Marathon. Starting at 9PM tonight (EDT), just 12 hours after the final starting gun of the marathon, I'm asking runners around the world to join me in a 24 hour run. You don't have to run on your own, because we're doing this together. I'm asking each runner to take as little as 15 minutes to run in support of today's victims, and for the next 24 hours, the roads, trails, and treadmills will not be empty.
For the next 24 hours, we will pay homage to their sport. We will send up silent prayers for the injured and deceased. We will join with the victims, our fellow athletes, to show the world that runners remain strongly together in the midst of tragedy.
To join the run, click here. For those unable to run, or those who just want to do more, I'm looking for a charity that will directly benefit the victims of today's tragedy. Contact me if you find a charity that we can work with. Until then, please direct people to this blog or my facebook page for updates.
Always moving foward,
Tyler
I watched a web feed of the race in the morning, pulling for all of my favorite runners, and staring in amazement at the mile splits the athletes pulled off, mile after mile. I watched my facebook feed fill up with words of praise for the winners, and encouragement for friends who were still running the course.
This can't be happening.
I talked with coworkers about the give and take as a handfull of elite runners moved in and out of the lead. I shook my head thinking of the training plans. Two-a-day runs. 100 mile weeks. 8-mile speed work sessions at a pace I can't even hold for 1 mile.
Who would do such a thing?
I considered the thousands of runners who trained for years just to qualify for this race. People like me, who might not possess any unusual amount of athletic ability, yet trained and trained to make it under their 3:30, 3:20, or 3:10 qualifying time. The people who finally reached their goal of running the Boston Marathon.
How many were injured?
As I watched the 117th running of the most prestigious marathon in the country, I thought of its history. The race was run before the marathon became a 26.2 mile race. The race was run for 75 years before women started to compete in these events, now taking up over 40% of the field.
How many were killed?
I remembered the fable of Heartbreak Hill. It was 1936 when defending champion, Johnny Kelley, passed Ellison Brown for the lead on the last of the 4 Newton Hills, just past mile 20. When passing, Johnny gave his competitor a consoling pat on the shoulder, planning for a repeat victory. But Brown wasn't fading, he was just holding back. Brown came back for the win, breaking Johnny's heart.
Is it over yet?
On days like today, I'm always torn between heartbreak, fear, and the desire to make it all go away. Today, I choose to do something about it.
I'm calling all runners to join with me in support of the victims at the Boston Marathon. Starting at 9PM tonight (EDT), just 12 hours after the final starting gun of the marathon, I'm asking runners around the world to join me in a 24 hour run. You don't have to run on your own, because we're doing this together. I'm asking each runner to take as little as 15 minutes to run in support of today's victims, and for the next 24 hours, the roads, trails, and treadmills will not be empty.
For the next 24 hours, we will pay homage to their sport. We will send up silent prayers for the injured and deceased. We will join with the victims, our fellow athletes, to show the world that runners remain strongly together in the midst of tragedy.
To join the run, click here. For those unable to run, or those who just want to do more, I'm looking for a charity that will directly benefit the victims of today's tragedy. Contact me if you find a charity that we can work with. Until then, please direct people to this blog or my facebook page for updates.
Always moving foward,
Tyler
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