How much can a society violate its young women?
How much can a society free its young men of blame for violating its young women?
Is it an equation: a woman sacrificed for a man?
Is this our version of female abortion or infanticide—young-womanicide?
Are we standing before a pyre, with flames that are stoked through the clearest of skies by the twisted and the seemingly-sane?
If these men—and their enablers and supporters and bystanders—violate all that once was held sacred and we let them, then what are we?
How can I not hate these people who are so arrogant as to think that sons are better than daughters; that the despicable actions of boys are of greater worth than a single tear/tear of a girl’s?
Are there any mirrors to look into that don’t cloud over with shame and anger, and regret?
Who let these boys and men enter our public places as beasts?
How is it that their excuses and blaming drown out voices of remorse and sorrow and repugnance?
Go for a walk run jog. Attend a party play concert. Wear pants shorts skirt. Fear of being raped should not accompany every woman every day everywhere forever.