So, your personal paranoia proves rape culture exists?
Also, who the hell is going to rape you in the middle of a movie theater? That’s one bold rapist. You’re just sitting there watching Three Billboards Outside of Bumfuck Nowhere starring who gives a shit in the stunning true story of blah blah blah and suddenly . . . like the primary dorsal fin of Jaws, a dick just protrudes from your popcorn and starts swimming around. You scream, and a rapist jumps out and just has his way with you as the rest of the theater is engrossed in the film. Some people notice your plight, but they don’t lift a finger to help! Why? Rape culture.
Your personal paranoia doesn’t prove that rape culture exists, it proves that you believe rape culture exists. Like, imagine if I said to you, “For anyone who thinks zombies don’t exist: I am a man alone in a graveyard, and I can’t walk around leisurely. I am always looking at every plot to see if they’ve been recently disturbed. I am constantly on alert for the sounds of moans or the word braaaaainns. I have to keep a revolver on me at all times, in case I have to shoot an undead cannibal in the head to stop his assault.”
Is that proof of zombies?
Now, maybe that’s a flawed analogy. Zombies aren’t real. Rapists, unfortunately, are real. But is rape culture real? Not here in America. Not anywhere in the west. Nowhere in a contemporary Western culture that I am aware of are rapists anything but reviled. You can’t find anywhere in the west where rape is acceptable, with the exception of Bryan Singer’s house.
