I didn’t think liberal feminists would go this far to prove that campus rape is an epidemic. I thought they’d stick with making up bogus rape accusations from the comfort of their desks at the Rolling Stone offices. So, I have to give this chick some credit for actually going out and doing investigative journalism (of course, she certainly still has an agenda to push – but at least she’s doing the work for it).
This piece by Natasha Vargas-Cooper at Broadly details the account of Natasha heading out to a frat party at the University of Southern California with the purpose of exposing the festering cesspool of rape culture that college fraternities across the country condone and foster and get away with because of the insidious white privilege patriarchy.
Okay, she doesn’t say it in so many words – but she does make sure she is armed with pepper spray, a stun-gun, the number for a local taxi service in case things get too dangerous. Oh – and there’s that super-important plucky attitude along with a school ID so she can get in to the party (even though – as she herself admits – she is too old to be considered a college freshman).
Honestly, her opening paragraphs sound like she’s arming herself to walk into an ISIS stronghold, rather than Greek Row in southern California. She even says that she’s seeking out the fraternity with the most affluent members because (quote) “daddy’s hush-money could blot out any indiscretion.”
Basically, she’s already assumed that the fraternity with the richest members is going to be the place to find the worst kinds of rapists because privilege always gets away with rape and murder and whatever other heinous initiation rituals college kids come up with. But then something happens – first, she notices that the “men” at the party are these baby-faced, barely-out-of-high-school, little boys –
Like a high-school fire drill, but hornier, the doors of various fraternity houses burst open and out pour giddy waves of co-eds. The air is frenetic. I am finally seeing the frat brothers emerge, the matadors set to conquer this impending sex fiesta.
The brothers largely resemble an army of zygotes outfitted in Express for Men slacks. While there are few powerfully built guys with strong jaw lines, most of the brothers are like changelings, caught trapped in a liminal state between puberty and a nascent adulthood. Many are downright elfin.
Not exactly the ‘roided-up predatory sex-obsessed monsters that feminists have proclaimed college guys to be, are they?
In fact, Natasha notes that it’s the girls who are more interested in sex and booze at these parties –
It’s the girls who have started to seize on the dark power of sex. With plunging necklines and iridescent eye make up and clinging dresses just half and inch longer than that of a streetwalker, the girls appear more adult, possessed, some even achieve glamor.
OMG – Natasha’s engaging in slut-shaming! She’s judging these girls based on the clothes they’re wearing! How could she?! Doesn’t she know that just because a girl is in a skimpy dress doesn’t mean she’s ACTUALLY interested in sex? BURN THE WITCH!
(Sorry – just doing my impression of an indignant, reality-challenged feminist. How did I do?)
But the funniest thing about Natasha’s piece is that while she’s obviously gone through this to expose the seedy underbelly of college fraternity life, her conclusion is that frat parties are less about the raucous Animal House atmosphere and more Pretty in Pink –
Hanging out in line for the bus, hearing the excited chatter, watching the sexes split into curious but separate camps, surrounded by the volley of exuberant compliments “I love your dress!!!”, and “so stoked, bro!!” I realize I have been here before.
This is all very familiar.
This is prom night.
The kids are all jazzed to dress fancy and go out in a metropolitan city without the looming presence of teachers or parents. Barely of legal age, going to a bar with overpriced drinks whilst wearing uncomfortable shoes is considered an exotic treat instead of the chore it becomes post-college.
The visage of a prickly testosterone gauntlet where a girl could get seriously hurt if she let her guard down started to melt into something, less nefarious—wholesome even.
My pepper spray now feels ridiculous.
And she ALMOST has the right idea. Until she goes and blows it with this oh-so-witty tether back to her feminist delusions –
But then again no one is drunk yet.
Sigh… Well, she was nearly there.
However, her column ends with this rather hilarious turn of events (and feminists say that drunk frat boys aren’t conscientious of personal spaces) –
I try to sneak some pictures of the lip locked couples in the middle of the floor.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. A tall Asian boy with thick textured hair says, “Hey, that’s not very nice.”
I shrugged. He was right, so I left.
Look, I know perfectly well that college parties can get out of hand and the kids who attend them have to be careful. I know that there are malevolent jerks who’ll take advantage of sketchy situations. I also know that the majority of guys in college (and even some who are out of college now) are not that way. It’s not fair to paint an entire group of people by the actions of a few. I hate it when feminists assume the worst of guys, simply because they are guys. I hate that Natasha Vargas-Cooper was so invested in the narrative that the majority of guys on college campuses will attack and assault women that she went undercover like this with an agenda and something to prove.
However, I do love that everything that she assumed was proven patently false and that she had the integrity to admit it – even though you can tell that she didn’t want to (and it’s funny that she was caught doing something “not very nice” by a guy that she assumed would have done something much worse).
There’s feminism for you. They want their worst fears to be true so much that they’ll say whatever they can to make other people believe it.