Written on the Body

This story is horrific:

Having sex with a drunken 14-year-old he had plied with alcohol was not a criminal offense by former Calgary man, a judge ruled yesterday.

Justice Peter McIntyre said there was insufficient evidence the girl didn’t consent to having sex with Trevor Byron Niebergall.

But McIntyre did find Niebergall guilty of sexual assault for placing his genitals on the girl’s face after she passed out — an act the offender captured on his cellphone camera and showed to co-workers.

McIntyre said the fact the teenage complainant didn’t remember her sexual encounter with Niebergall at a December 2005 New Year’s Eve party did not mean she hadn’t consented.

There are so many rape myths working against this poor girl the whole thing is a disaster. This man committed the very definition of rape however will go unprosecuted because the judge found it more important to shame the victim than prosecute her assaulter. This girl was victim of an intentional crime: Niebergall got her drunk, had sex with her, took pictures, and then sexually assaulted her further. And yet the word rape is not used once in this article. As soon as I find out how to contact this asshole judge I’ll be informing him of a few things:

1. A 14 year-old is a child. While she is at the age of consent, she is not likely to be able to defend herself from this kind of attack.

2. No one can give consent when they’re drunk. Not young girls, slutty girls, good Catholic girls, or men. No one. It’s in this document called the Criminal Code of Canada you might want to check out.

3. Having sex with someone when they cannot consent is rape. It’s not a fucking misunderstanding.

What makes this whole case even worse is that the judge seems to think because the victim was drinking she deserved what happened to her:

The complainant was not forced to consume alcohol — she drank … beer willingly and then switched to alcohol. It is not at all clear why she drank so heavily.

What, no comment about how short her skirt was? She drank heavily because she’s a teenager at a party. Should all young girls be put in lockdown on New Years Eve lest they have too much fun and invite rapists to take advantage of them? What happened here is no one’s fault but the perpetrator and to imply otherwise is misogynist and setting a dangerous precedent.

Note to CBC weather crew: You know, telling me that a thunderstorm just happened doesn’t help me all that much. Usually the exciting part of the weather forecast is the forecast part.
Love Jane Doe.

Overheard in the park today:

Girl 1: Mom! Can I go look at the gooses? MOM? Can I?

Girl 2: It’s geese

Girl 1: I know. Jeez. Mom! Can I go look at the geeses?

I’d like to offer heartfelt congratulations to Dr. Henry Morgentaler for being awarded the Order of Canada. It is long overdue. It is largely due to Dr. Morgentaler that I grew up in a country where access to abortion was never something I worried about or questioned.

The Order of Canada is bestowed by an advisory council lead by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. I would also like to take this opportunity to honour a wonderfully bad-ass Canadian woman, Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin. Not only did she usher in Dr. Morgentaler’s award, she is a born Albertan and has performed the duties of a Governor General that included giving royal assent to legalizing same-sex marriage in Canada. Bad-ass.

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You’re Brave New World!

by Aldous Huxley

With an uncanny ability for predicting the future, you are a true psychic. You can see how the world will change and illuminate the fears of future generations. In the world to come, you see the influence of the media, genetic science, drugs, and class warfare. And while all this might make you happy, you claim the right to be unhappy. While pregnancy might seem painful, test tube babies scare you most. You are obsessed with the word “pneumatic”.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Gah. Test tube babies. *shrudder*

So I know in the grand scheme of things this is a fairly insignificant issue to be pissed off about, but when did we start referring to coffee as “skinny”?

Every Friday when I treat myself to a cup of sugar and caffeine at Starbucks I have an exchange with the barista that goes like this:

Me: One green tea latte with skim milk please.
Her: One skinny latte?
Me: One latte with skim milk.
Her: Right. One skinny latte?

Now I get this isn’t her fault, it’s just one of the many nonsensical terms Starbucks has released into our lexicon that she’s required to use. But seriously, my latte is not skinny. Nor is it fat, curvy or scrawny. Skinny, as an adjective, in fact refers to the width of something. My drink is the same size as the non-skinny drinks. Hmmm, interesting.

I suspect that the “skinny” is supposed to refer to me, the buyer. That by requesting skim milk I’m choosing to be skinny. Go team skinny! Whoo ho! The truth is, I don’t really like the taste of milk and I just like skim because it’s less creamy, it’s not part of my South Beach Diet. Can’t I just get my drink with out a shot of fat-phobia?

PS- Hey, anyone know what happened to Stolen Pony? Her blog’s gone! I hope she’s ok.

American Apparel, we have to talk. I’ve put up with you for a good couple years now. I forgave your short-comings because I wanted to believe a place existed where I could afford to buy nice clothing and not feel guilty. I kept making excuses for you, saying the ads were “just a phase” that you would grow out of. I covered my eyes and turned up my music every time I had to walk by this:

And I tastefully hid the back of my local entertainment newspaper that would blow up ads like this on the back:

Today, American Apparel, I’m done. No more excuses. I still love the eggplant t-shirt from you that I had a smiling tofu silk-screened onto. It will always be my favourite wacky summer shirt. But I can’t take this fucked up pornographic shit anymore. It is not artistic; it’s not “edgy.” It’s ugly and objectifying and most of those clothes look horrible on anyone older than eight. There, I said it. I mean, you’re trying to bring back the unitard? Let’s say I spent all day with my legs spread wide open like your eerie underage- looking models, do you think I’d want to be wearing something that creeps up my ass?

Ok, so this didn’t come out of nowhere. It’s been simmering for a while. The last straw was finding out that your owner is a crazier and decidedly slimier version of Joe Francis. And that is saying something.

So we’re done. Don’t bother crawling back with a new line of fun-coloured socks, I am so over you.

Hello. Phew, it’s been quite the month. Thanks for the well-wishing. We lost a family member who will be sadly missed but he went quickly and without suffering, an experience the boyfriend and I were unprepared for and still wading our way though.

I have been writing sporadically so rest assured I have a lot to say, which I will post shortly after I collect all the receipts and random papers I wrote on.

But! In the meantime:

• Sign this petition to oppose Bill C-484, if you haven’t already. I know I’m a bit behind the boat on this one, but the Bill is still on the table and I have a feeling the fetus-lovers are just getting started. A good explanation of the Bill can be found at Rabble, and some great discussions are going on at Unrepentant Old Hippie.
• Mike Chisholm finally resigned! God I really can’t stand that guy. Men like him are the reason we don’t have enough women in our government.
• Alanis is finally giving us with a new album! I have to say I’m kind of relieved she didn’t go with the self-help book idea she was floating around. And don’t even get me started on Ryan Reynolds.
• Lost is really kind of good. Discuss.

Hello all. Apologies for the irregular writing, we’ve had a illness in our family and I’m directing all energy in that direction at the moment.  Positive vibes and thoughts are greatly appreciated!

Love Jane Doe.

Dark Pines Under Water
Gwendolyn MacEwen
From The Shadow-Maker

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This land like a mirror turns you inward
And you become a forest in furtive lake;
The dark pines of your mind reach downward,
You dream in the green of your time,
Your memory is a row of sinking pines.

Explorer, you tell yourself this is not what you came for
Although it is good here, and green;
You had meant to move with a kind of largeness,
You had planned a heavy grace, an anguished dream.

But the dark pines of your mind dip deeper
And you are sinking, sinking, sleeper
In an elementary world;
There is something down there and you want it told.