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Friday, March 22, 2013

Steubenville.

I wasn't going to talk about Steubenville.

I'm still not sure I'm ready to.

But I don't want to pretend that it didn't happen, either, to sweep it under the rug and shrug my shoulders and throw up my hands at it all, at the impossibility of things like explaining rape culture to people who benefit from it and therefore ignorantly deny it or tell you the ways that I'm going to change it for my kids because I honestly don't know how I'll do that with one kid with multiple delays and the other having to grow up in that shadow. I don't know where to draw the line between rape culture and sports culture and I can't explain why it seems like it's always football players despite having grown up in the holy church of football and I can't explain why people hold their sports on a higher pedestal than their children but I hate the way this makes the sport I know and love appear to people who don't know it any better.

So, to start, while I work out my thoughts, here's two blog posts from women I admire who do these subjects better grace and strength and truth than I can, right now.

Let's Talk About Rape from The Naked Redhead

On the Steubenville Boys and My Boys from The Extraordinary Ordinary

And then just for the extra gut check, you should watch this video, but brace yourselves, you'll need tissues and maybe a pillow to stifle your sobs.

I'm going to go run when Kyle gets home for the first time in a couple of weeks (injury and illness always come in pairs for me) and hopefully the air and the activity will help me clear my head and give me something better to say by Monday. But until then, this is the best I've got.