A rape academy?    
CNN recently broke a story about an online ring of men who shared tips and collateral associated with covert sexual assault of partners and wives. It’s dubbed a ‘Rape Academy’ and the contents are numbing and nauseating.

Violence against girls and women — including domestic abuse, sexual assault, and trafficking — remains widespread. In conflict zones, rape is often used as a weapon of war. Women and girls’ rights violations persist in every region of the world.

One of the starkest current examples is in Afghanistan. Since returning to power in 2021, the Taliban has systematically dismantled women’s rights. Girls have been barred from school; women are excluded from most forms of employment; and strict dress codes and movement restrictions are enforced. Women cannot travel long distances without a male guardian, and their participation in public life has been nearly erased.

And from what I’ve seen, most men just don’t really talk about any of what I just mentioned. When I bring it up with the men in my life I trust, of course the reaction is revulsion and declarations of how reprehensible it all is. And yet I still wonder – do they say this to each other, when a woman they love isn’t in the room? Does something have to affect someone personally for it to really hit home?  

Which leads me to another question: How am I supposed to teach my daughter to interact with the world, when I sometimes don’t feel OK?

The fact is, I don’t trust men I don’t know. There’s no reason for me to. I know what it’s like to be solo, and I have the experience of feeling unsafe. 

I don’t assume that all men are predators, nor do I go out of my way to interact with them. I know that defensiveness is often a go-to, and I’m too tired to deal with men’s emotions around my own observations. 

If a man has never walked in my shoes, I don’t particularly care about his feelings around my own experiences. I do think that men need to step up and engage differently to try to address the harm that they are disproportionately creating.

Concretely, there are a few things I’ve chosen for my child’s safety: she isn’t allowed to have a cell phone or to play any kind of game with messaging capability — Roblox was getting the side-eye from me long before the headlines broke.

Social media is completely out of the question, but she does have a landline now so she can have independence and connect with friends outside of school. 

She is only allowed to go to homes where I know and trust the parents. She knows that there is a village of trusted adults in her life, watching and communicating with each other.   

As for protecting joy: gratitude infuses our home and our lives. There is no antidote to the world’s chaos like taking stock of the goodness right in front of us. 

Once again, when facing difficult situations and questions, my heart and soul return to the power of community. Building a community of loved ones and leaning on each other for support, and providing mutual care are the way I have sustained my sobriety, survived my divorce, and dealt with excruciating grief.

For any parents of girls further down the line, I’d love to hear what you recommend for balancing safety and joy. 

Katherine ‘Katy’ Linwood writes a monthly column on sobriety, “The Bright Side,” for ConvergenceRI. Connect with her on IG@katherine.linwood