Ariel Castro, the rapist.
I watched a TED Talk by Jackson Katz last night. He pointed out some fundamental issues with language and the way we use language to talk about (and not talk about) men’s violence against women. I recommend readers to watch the TED talk its 19 minutes long, I summarize his argument in about a sentence, and appropriate it for my observations here, but he is very nuanced and sophisticated. So watch it, and share, share, share!
Since watching the TED talk, I’ve observed Katz’s argument in action. When using passive language (i.e, “Mary was beaten”) to recount men’s violence against women, the man/men in question are left out, and the women are front and center, in an almost blameworthy way.
Let’s use some examples from the media about the recent escape of Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus, and Michelle Knight from Ariel Castro (and maybe brothers?).
In an NPR article, Cheryl Corley is quoted as saying, “They were allegedly forced to have sex with Castro.” This passive sentence puts the women as the subject. Why? Wouldn’t it be more effective (and more true) to say “Castro allegedly forced them to have sex with him.” The women are extremely important, but by re-phrasing the sentence the weight, the blame, the focus is upon the wrong-doer, Castro. I even have a problem with calling it sex. Let’s call it rape. “Castro allegedly raped them.” That is an effective, clear and true sentence.
Later in this article the author says that the “women say they were almost never allowed outside.” Why not again use more effective and more truthful phrasing of the “Castro never allowed them to go outside.” Or “Castro kept them in captivity.”
This sentence in a FOX News article really strikes me in light of Katz observations, “Police say what remains a mystery is how the women were kept in the house so long.”
Does this strike you as a just way to phrase the sentence? The lack of Castro’s presence in the original sentence nearly leads us to victim blaming questioning like, “How could the women let themselves be captured for so long? Why didn’t they try to escape? Did they want to escape?” Perhaps, “Police say what remains a mystery is how Castro kept the women in the house so long,” would be a fairer phrasing.
The same goes for language found in this CBS article:
Those women – Amanda Berry, 27, Michelle Knight, 32, and DeJesus, 23 – never left the house the entire time they were held captive, the sources said. (Emphasis mine).
Those women? Those women never left the house the entire time! Shocking, right? As if they had choice and exercised that choice to stay there. Let’s try, “Castro kept the women in the house the entire time that he held them captive.” Now that puts the shock into the sentence. Instead of wow the women never left?! we say, wow! he never let them go outside?!
Let’s be clear. I’m not splitting hairs here. The way we use language profoundly affects our perceptions. Katz is absolutely right in his TED talk. The way the media is using language to talk about Castro’s violence is nearly erasing him from the conversation. He’s there at the periphery of our passive sentences. And the women are at the center. Blameworthy. Spectacles.
I’m hearing the questions about the victims’ role in their own captivity:
“How come they never escaped? How could they be held an entire ten years without even getting out?”
Katz importantly asks why indeed do we not question men instead of women.
Why did Castro deny the humanity and dignity of three young women? Why did Castro kidnap them, torture them, rape them? How do we in a world where a man who seems so “normal” to everybody else is actually a kidnapper, and rapist? And why is it so normal for us to hear about men committing so much violence. Why do these articles not name him for what he is?
Castro is a kidnapper, torturer and rapist.
On a final note. I think one more aspect of language in this case that breaks my heart up is when Amanda Berry tells the 911 operator, “I’m here. I’m here.” Yet CBS denies her presence, “Knight vanished at age 20 in 2002. Berry disappeared at 16 in 2003, when she called her sister to say she was getting a ride home from her job at a Burger King. About a year later, DeJesus vanished.”
They never disappeared or vanished themselves. They were never gone. They were not discovered.
They were always here.
