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As long as our culture refuses to hold the Depps of the world accountable, there will always be women like Heard who will be tasked with watching their abusers prosper.

[TW/CW: discussion of domestic violence, rape culture and mentions of sexual assault.] New York Magazine's July 27th, 2015 cover is still as harrowing as it is iconic. Just beneath the bold red lettering of the publication's moniker are 35 women—the victims of Bill Cosby's serial sexual abusedressed in black and seated calmly in their chairs. The uniformity of their open poses and solemn, forward-facing expressions portray a shared preparation for public scrutiny, a feeling all too familiar to anyone who has ever spoken aloud of the abuse they have suffered. Seeing these women congregate in one image is an impactful sight on its own, but the standout element for many of us sits at the end of the last row: an empty chair. It remains unoccupied by all of the women who, despite the presence of nearly three dozen fellow survivors, still didn't feel supported enough to tell their stories. That doubt something that so many silent survivors harboris substantiated by a society that not only continues to interrogate, mock, and ultimately gaslight victims of abuse, but also protects their abusers when they are especially powerful or popular. Johnny Depp is an immensely popular actor. When he and actress Amber Heard divorced in 2016, Heard detailed for the court a history of physical and psychological abuse at the hands of Depp. Her testimony included pictures of her bruised face and a detailed witness account from a friend who had to physically shield Heard from Depp's assault. When his legal team claimed that Heard's accusations were false and motivated by possible financial gain, she promised to donate her entire settlement$7 millionto charity.
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There is no such art, no such glorious work of fiction, no such extraordinary performance, that excuses a real-life abuser.

By Candice Frederick It’s been a mere eight months since women in Hollywood first brought Harvey Weinstein’s horrid history of sexual assault to the masses, and just as long since the #MeToo movement catapulted to the mainstream, ushering in a new era in which women’s voices, victims of men including Bill Cosby, Louis C.K., R. Kelly, Junot Díaz, Matt Lauer, and Brett Ratner, were being validated unlike ever before. EIGHT. MONTHS. And already, countless apologists have rushed to defend these so-called “geniuses” whose work they’ve repeatedly asked us to consider as we reckon with their abusive behaviors. Some have even suggested these men can and should make a comeback. The latest example was Jason Bateman, who went out of his way to interject when New York Times reporter Sopan Deb asked Jeffrey Tambor, who’s been accused of sexual and verbal harassment, whether he expects to be on future seasons of their series "Arrested Development". “Well I certainly wouldn’t do it without [him],” Bateman said. Okay fine, he reveres his award-winning on-screen dad, but maybe take some time to think about the question at hand, which was really asking whether Tambor should be on the show (or working at all) since he has been accused of sexual harassment during his work with “Transparent” and creating a toxic on-set environment—particularly for his female colleagues including Jessica Walter (who is sitting right there with them during this interview!). But it seemed for Bateman, and so many other apologists, that he prioritized Tambor’s talent and career influence over his abusive behavior of which the 73-year-old actor said he’s “working on” and “has profusely apologized”. When Walter tried to insert her voice (in a conversation where she should have already been centered), Bateman once again re-focused the attention back on Tambor, describing his actions as “incredibly common” in an industry that is “a breeding ground for atypical behavior.” But, you know, “not to belittle what happened [between Walter and Tambor],” he added. Bateman has since apologized. Co-star Tony Hale has also tweeted an apology for essentially over-talking throughout that segment of the interview, and Tambor’s apology had previously been on record. They’re all just so sorry—and sadly so is Walter, who was so marginalized throughout the interview that she actually said, “I’ve just given up. I don’t want to walk around with anger.”
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White feminists identify so strongly with The Handmaid’s Tale because it is a show about white women in slavery.

[CW/TW: This essay contains extensive discussion of reproductive violence and some mention of sexual violence.] Reproductive rights is a subject that is central to the politics of white feminism because it is the second most prominent fight that it has historically engaged with, the first being voting rights for white women. It has always been understood as advocacy for the right to birth control and access to safe, legal abortion options as part of one’s ability to plan pregnancies and families on one’s own terms. In short, for able-bodied and able-minded white people, it has been primarily about the right to not be pregnant. Considering the historical context of eugenics, scientific racism, and certain state-sanctioned violences, reproductive justice for non-whites would largely be quite the opposite. For many, it would instead be the ability to bear and nurture one’s own children without government interference or barriers created through white supremacy and systemic oppression. In the dominant social conversation about reproductive rights, issues specific to people of color are often omitted or simply glanced over. This is why the term Reproductive justice was coined by a group of Black women in 1994, to specifically address the needs and concerns of people of color that are routinely left out of the conversation. The Women of Color Reproductive Justice Collective known as SisterSong defines reproductive justice as “the human right to maintain personal bodily autonomy, have children, not have children, and parent the children we have in safe and sustainable communities.” Black women and other people of color creating our own terminology is so necessary because white feminism has a reputation for ignoring oppressions until cis white women become affected by them, and reproductive violences are no exception. The popularity of and discourse surrounding The Handmaid’s Tale is indicative of this neglect. Based on Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel, the series and its subject matter resonate with those who work to combat rape culture and support bodily, sexual, and reproductive autonomy. The systematic sexual and reproductive violences on the show terrify those who view the story as a future dystopian (im)possibility for whiteness, when it is in fact a historical ghost for Black people who were enslaved. Distinguished by their red robes and white bonnets, Handmaids are forced into slavery, repeatedly violated, impregnated, and made to give birth to children that are immediately taken to serve the interests of others. Essentially, The Handmaid’s Tale depicts cis white women stripped of the ability to bear and nurture one’s own children without government interference or barriers created through white supremacy and systemic oppression. This is a position that they have never seen themselves depicted in, and it terrifies them.
Related: “THE HANDMAID’S TALE” CONTINUES TO CENTER THE WHITE FEMALE GAZE

To do justice by Asifa would be to recognize that in her tragedy lies the story of thousands of women and girls in Kashmir who have experienced the same crimes fueled by the same ideologies.

[CW/TW: mention of r/pe or sexual assault, and murder.] By Manaal Farooqi When news of an abduction, rape and murder of an 8-year-old girl in India broke loose earlier this month, the response was polarizing within the nation and amongst its diaspora. Asifa Bano was sexually assaulted for days then murdered by several men, also happened to be a Muslim Kashmiri in Indian occupied Kashmir. The Hindu men who tortured and murdered Asifa were found and arrested, but have received sympathies and demonstrations for their release from Hindu nationalists across the country. The men allegedly committed the crime to drive away Asifa’s family and community, the nomadic Bakarwal tribe members. The injustice has been framed as isolated from the overall occupation and atrocities that have been committed in the past decades in Kashmir, but the history of violence, sexual assault and more in the region has been an intrinsic part of this cycle of violence. Hindu nationalism has been on the rise since the election of Prime Minister Narendra Modi of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) in 2014, which is the political extension of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) who are committed to creating a Hindu nationalist state. While these changes in government and policies have swept the nation since 2014, these issues have affected the people of Kashmir for far longer. Indian occupied Kashmir has dealt with clashes and insurgencies since 1965, at times with the help of the Pakistani state as well. In current times, the insurgency continues on a different scale with alternative tactics since 2017 — dubbed as the “year of the student uprising”— including mass protests and rallies. This particular generation has been raised in occupation for their entire lives and with the BJP in power they are experiencing the national shift with a deeper sense of estrangement from the state. With comments from both the BJP and Modi asking Kashmiri youth to choose between “tourism and terrorism”, the already established lack of faith in the state and government has deepened.
Related: SOUTH ASIAN SPACES NEED TO BE INCLUSIVE OF KASHMIRIS WITHOUT TOKENIZATION

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