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Cisgender men need to intentionally open themselves up to more than just their own perspectives, opinions and experiences. Cisgender men often ask me what they can do as “allies” or “accomplices” to women, femmes, trans and GNC/nonbinary people. I am

The “Black man's image” is not, never has been, and never will be more important than the safety of Black women.

This essay contains discussion of sexual violence against minors and child pornography Black men find new ways to tell the world they hate Black women every day. It's hard to talk about this. Not just because it involves talking about how harmful misogynoir is, but because it's dangerous for someone like me to tell the truth about this harm and how prevalent it is. It's dangerous in the same way that it's dangerous for us to tell the truth about white supremacy in public, because there is always the chance that we will be met with reactionary white violence and attempts to silence us, and because the way Black men treat us often feels so similar to how white people treat us. Sometimes, it feels worse. A week ago, a private screening for Lifetime's “Surviving R. Kelly” docuseries was canceled after the the theater received a gun and bomb threat. The theater was filled with survivors and parents of survivors of R. Kelly's sexual and misogynistic violences. “Me Too” founder Tarana Burke was in attendance. As was #OscarsSoWhite originator, April Reign. “There is no question in my mind that this was a deliberate attempt to intimidate R. Kelly survivors and their supporters," Reign stated, and I agree wholeheartedly. In response to the threat and the canceled private screening, Burke said, “[F]rom being a survivor and my work with survivors, I think that it's really hard to get into a consistent healing process when there is always the threat of being re-traumatized. And so that's the worry I have is that people who are trying to put it behind them, trying to move ahead get railroaded in ways like this, you know, it's just detrimental." The writing has been on the wall about R. Kelly for a very long time, and it has taken more than two decades for people to finally start listening to the Black women who have been organizing against him and understand how dangerous he is. Even before his high profile relationship with Aaliyah, marrying her when she was only 15 years old and he was 27, he was a known predator in the Chicago area. From there, he went on to violate multiple underage girls and young women, often promising to help with their music career, with at least two videos with evidence of his statutory rape of Black girls surfacing and a large collection of child pornography being found at his home. Somehow, he always managed to escape accountability and prison time for these things, and this has allowed him to now become the leader of a cult where he keeps young women under his complete control, “dictating what they eat, how they dress, when they bathe, when they sleep, and how they engage in sexual encounters that he records.” One former assistant testified that the women around him even have to ask for food and get his permission to go to the bathroom, and if they break his rules, they are punished with physical and verbal assaults.
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It is the core of Restorative Justice that an offender must accept responsibility for the harm that they have caused.

By Michelle Carroll For the past few years, the college sexual assault movement has been unable to answer a simple question: what do we do with people who commit sexual violence? In 2015, Dana Bolger of Feministing asked her readers to consider whether incarcerating a segment of the male population is a viable solution. She highlights a 2015 study from JAMA Pediatrics that she argues successfully challenges the movement’s assumption that a majority of campus sexual violence is perpetrated by repeat offenders, and that in reality, only 25% of campus sexual violence is committed by repeat offenders. Instead, a significant portion of campus rapes are committed by men who rape only once in their college career (this study finds that 10.8% of a university’s male population are ‘one time’ offenders). Bolger concludes her article by arguing that it is not feasible to lock up nearly 11% of the male population in the hopes that by isolating the “real criminals” from our population, we can eradicate campus sexual violence. I agree with Bolger’s conclusion. But, not with her reasoning. Beyond the logistical difficulties, incarcerating 11% of our university male population will further solidify the United States as the most prolific country in rates of mass incarceration. And we know that our criminal justice system actively perpetrates institutional racism and terrorizes communities of color. Black people in this country are five times more likely to be imprisoned than their white counterparts, and Hispanics are imprisoned at double the rates of white people. If we want to radically transform our campus communities and eradicate the cultural norms that underpin sexual violence, imprisoning more black and brown people will only sustain this system of violence. The answer to college sexual assault is not to replicate the racism of our penal system in colleges and universities, but rather to initiate a prevention and response strategy that prioritizes healing for the victim, perpetrator, and the whole community. What do we do with people who commit sexual violence on college and university campuses? The answer is to employ Restorative Justice techniques.
What Restorative Justice Isn’t
When I was a junior at Franklin and Marshall College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, there was a public incident of sexual harassment. A male sports team rated women as they walked through the center of campus during the middle of the afternoon. Within hours the entire student population had heard. I didn’t see the team rate women, but I certainly discussed the team’s behavior in conversations with my fellow Women’s Center members as well as on Facebook. However, the college didn’t release a statement or explanation to the student body. As anyone who attended college knows, sexual violence investigations and sanctions are sacrosanct—you may hear about the incident, but you’ll never hear about the aftermath. In this case, our college Title IX coordinator reached out to me to design a Women’s Center conversation around catcalling so that the team could attend and hear the perspective of their female peers. To no one’s surprise, the conversation was a disaster. The team came ready for a fight, bringing female reinforcements to testify in Franklin and Marshall’s Women’s Center that “No, catcalling doesn’t bother me” and “I know I look good when I’m catcalled.” The conversation lasted for an hour and at the end, neither the team nor the Women’s Center members felt heard or supported. Everyone left the room angry and I spent the afternoon sobbing in my dorm room.
Related: THE TRUMP ADMINISTRATION IS SIDING WITH RAPISTS

#YesYou, because unless you have been actively engaged in teaching men about rape culture and how to end it, you are not doing nearly enough.

By Da’Shaun Harrison Very powerful men have been under scrutiny recently for their perpetuation of sexual violence against women, femmes, men and otherwise queer bodies. We have read disheartening testimonies from many accusers of some of Hollywood’s most esteemed actors and producers, like Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey. We have heard from brave women about their non-consensual interactions with politicians like Roy Moore and Al Franken. We have even read stories about acclaimed television journalists such as Matt Lauer. Each of these men have either not responded to the allegations made against them or, alternatively, have chosen to deny some or all of them. In more current news, however, we have heard allegations about respected men in the music industry and their sexual misconduct. A month ago, Russell Simmons’ first accuser came forward with her story. Since then, he has been accused by at least eight other women of sexual harassment and sexual assault. On December 14, Simmons posted a photo on Instagram where he responded to the allegations against him. Just like many of the other men who were accused, Simmons denied each allegation. However, his denial was more than just a simple statement made for optics and to protect his brand. Simmons’ response, which he linked to the hashtag #NotMe, is a blatant attempt at silencing the voices of women and men who have been courageous enough to share deeply personal traumas with the world through the hashtag #MeToo—a campaign started by Tarana Burke ten years ago. In his statement, he wrote “my intention is not to diminish the #MeToo movement in anyway, but instead hold my accusers accountable. …It’s just a statement about my innocence.”
Related: ME TOO: SURVIVORSHIP IS NEITHER LINEAR NOR BINARY

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