Baseball Season

There are just over 200 students sitting in the metal-backed auditorium seats.  I hear the principal tell the boys to sit on one side and the girls on the other. 

I’m wondering how many students don’t know where to sit with this statement, but I see everyone eventually chooses a seat.  Layers of black curtains hide the set, props, and furniture for the school play.  The house lights go to half, and the spotlight dazzles the two of us presenters holding microphones in the front.

We run through the college situation of two students who meet in calculus class, become study partners, and end up drinking heavily at a party mid-semester.  The story ends with foggy memories of a sexual encounter. 

The debate unfolds over the “He Said” and “She Said” versions of the night in question.  All the students vote about responsibility and comment on culpability.  

The opinions voiced: “In sex, you just work a ‘Yes’ out.  It’s how the game is played.  It’s expected.”  

“Men do most of the work in sex anyway. It’s normal if she just lays there.” 

“You just keep heading around the bases unless they stop you.”

“If you talk, you ruin the moment. No one wants to talk during sex.” 

“The best way to prevent rape is to wait until you’re married.”

More daggers: “If she didn’t want it, she shouldn’t have gotten herself drunk.”  “She could have left.” 

I am taking it in. On many levels. The survivor in me is also thinking about all the survivors in the room.  I can’t believe we still have so much work to do, so many attitudes to challenge.  While hearing rape myths and victim-blaming spoken out loud is more than challenging, not hearing them and letting them continue to live inside each person solves nothing.  We have to know what people really think in order to make any progress, any change. So let’s play ball.

Each month, I share snippets, stories, and slices of my journey as an educator, activist, author, speaker, and survivor. By Katie Koestner.