Cameron Burnette

Mrs. Knudson
UWRT 1103 Cultural Literacy Essay
October 9, 2015
I Never Said Yes
I have never been able to understand some of the things that Americans do. One
of the things that I do not understand is the cultural myths and stereotypes that we
have. To me it all just seems so ignorant. For my cultural myth I decided to focus on a
very broad topic that does nothing but piss me off: Slut shaming.
Why do we even slut shame? I have never been able to understand it. In our
culture it is okay for a man to sleep around but it is not okay for a woman to do so.
Women are criticized for what they wear and how they act but for some unknown
reason it is not the same for guys. It seems acceptable when guys are interested in sex
but when a girl is she is deemed a slut by her peers. The double standards here seems
incredibly wrong to me.
A big part of the myth of slut shaming is the idea that a womans behavior or what
she is wearing has anything to do with what she wants with her body. If I want to wear a
short skirt or a low cut shirt, that does not mean that I want to have sex with you. If I am
under the influence of some sort of substance such as alcohol or other drugs, it does
not mean that I want to have sex with you. This idea is something that needs to be
preached more in the media. People need to let it be known that it does not mean that
someone is asking for it.

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I was raped after my senior year of high school. I dont really remember much of
what happened that day. A lot of people would probably say that I was asking for it but it
was the complete opposite. The parts of that day that I do remember replay in my mind
often.
About a month before I was coming to college I decided that I wanted to do a
solo road trip. I decided that I wanted to drive down to Wilmington and spend the week
with my cousin. On the way down there my car broke down and I had to call my cousin
and my dad to help me fix it. Once we got my car loaded on a dolly to head back to
Chapel Hill my dad says, Cameron, would you like to go to Wilmington with Kristin or
would you like to come back home?
I should have just gone home with my dad. My car breaking down should have
been a sign to me that I should just go back to my crappy little town and not head down
to the beach. Instead, I jumped in Kristins car and we headed back to Wilmington. The
trip started out on a bad note and ended the same way.
I only stayed three days in Wilmington before heading back home. The first day
my car broke down on the way to the beach. The second day was spent with my cousin
and we lost our anchor while we were fishing in the canal. Then on the final day I
decided to hang out with an old friend of mine and thats when the trip went straight to
hell.
My friends name is Will. Hes a few years older than me and is attending the
University of North Carolina at Wilmington. We actually dated while we were in high
school and remained friends after our breakup. I had told him that I would be in town for
the weekend and we agreed that we needed to hang out.

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We had always been close so I never thought anything would go wrong with us
hanging out together. The night before I told him I would need him to pick me up
because my car had died. We had planned that he would pick me up from my cousins
house; we would get breakfast and then spend the day at the beach.
Ten oclock rolled around and Will pulled up into the driveway. According to
cultural myths, I was already asking for it. It was over ninety degrees outside and I was
wearing a crop top and shorts overtop of my bikini. A little bit of my midriff was showing
so I guess that means I was asking for him to make a move on me.
After eating, we went back to his house so that he could change into his bathing
suit. His roommates were all sitting around smoking weed and drinking Bud Light. I
didnt really think anything of the situation. Colleges guys smoking weed and drinking
just seems so common.
Will sat down on the couch and began to talk to his roommates. The second I
saw him pick up the bong I knew I was in for a different day than I had planned.
Awkwardly, I sat there while he talked to his roommates and smoked a little. They
offered me some but after I refused went on about their business.
About an hour into being at the house, I started to feel quite comfortable with the
guys. One of the roommates, who I later learn is named Jakob, offered me a beer.
Thinking nothing about it, I take the beer from him and proceed to drink it. It was a Bud
Light Lemon-Aid-Ritas. He told me that I was welcome to all of the Lemon-Aid-Ritas in
the refrigerator because they were girlie drinks and it was just taking up room for
better beer.

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Once I finished the first one Jakob asked, How did it taste? I shook my head
and made a face knowing that he found the drink disgusting. The more of them you
drink the better they taste. I bet the second one would taste better. Naively, I went to
the fridge and grabbed another.
Three Lemon-Aid-Ritas into the day, I was really enjoying myself. I was not drunk
at this point but I was no longer feeling shy around Wills roommates. It had started
raining so we all decided to order pizza and stay in until the storm passed. We played
games in the house until finally we felt that it would be all right to go down to the beach.
We were sadly mistaken and had to turn around halfway to the beach.
Arriving back at the house was where things started to really get out of control. At
this point in the day I have had almost a whole twelve pack of the Lemon-Aid-Ritas and
I was incredibly intoxicated. My vision and memory started to get blurry after arriving
back at the house. I remember Will telling me that I needed to rest and was going to
take me into his room. I remember going into his room and I remember him kissing me
but thats about all I remember.
I remember passing out. I remember Jakob walking into the room but I do not
remember speaking to him or him speaking to me. I remember passing out again, not
even knowing if Jakob was still in the room or not. I remember waking up, realizing that I
was naked and not exactly remembering where I was. I slumped out of the bed, put
some clothes on, and walked out into the living room in search for some answers.
Wandering around the house failing to find anyone, I found everyone outside on
the porch. Will called me over to him and pulled me into a hugging embrace in his lap.

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You slept for a while. I take it you slept pretty good. I nodded at him. Are you still
drunk? he asked me. I looked at him and told him that I didnt feel like I was.
Everyone sat outside for a while since it felt so nice out and the rain had stopped
coming down. Looking outside it felt gloomy and sad.
The boys began to tease Will.
So you mean to tell us that yall dated her freshman year of high school and
didnt have sex until today? Jakob asked.
I bet she wishes that she had said yes to me long before now. Four years of
making me wait but it was worth it. Will responded.
I looked around puzzled. I didnt remember us having sex but it would explain
how I ended up the way I had. I looked down embarrassed. I had no idea what to say.
The rest of the day was a blur. I remember them getting me Chick-fil-a. I remember
Jakobs girlfriend came over. I remember Will taking me home really late that night and
my cousin not even thinking twice about it. I remember crying myself to sleep that night.
It was hard to even think about. I tried to push the day out of my mind. I honestly
had put the experience so far back into my mind that I didnt even think about it until
Lady Gaga released her new song Till it Happens to You. Someone posted the video
on Facebook saying, It was the post powerful video of the year. I decided to watch it.
It was the Sunday after the video was released that I stumbled upon it. I sat there
watching a video that is trying to help rape victims and help others to see the growing
problem of rape culture. Halfway through the video I began to bawl. I watched it over
and over again, crying harder as I continued to watch it. Sitting in my room by myself,
bawling, it hit me why. That day in Wilmington Will had taken advantage of how drunk I

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was and he raped me. I bawled even harder. The song says Until it happens to you,
you wont know, it wont be real you dont know how I feel. The accuracy of the song
and the message behind it just made me realize how messed up the situation was.
I can honestly say that I was not asking for it. Yes, I was wearing a crop top and
shorts, but who wouldnt? It was over ninety degrees outside. Yes, I was drunk, but what
does that have to do with anything? I cannot give consent when Im drunk. If I am drunk
that should be the point where you realize that sex is no longer on the table, if it ever
even was.
Anybody who tries to tell me that this was my fault is what is wrong with America.
We promote the idea that what a woman is wearing or how she is acting tells us that
she wants to have sex. If I feel good wearing a tight skirt or a crop top it does not mean
that I want to have sex with you. It means that it makes me feel good and I only dress
like that to make myself feel confident. If I am drinking or accept a drink from you, it
does not mean that I want to have sex with you. Maybe I just want to drink, to loosen up
and have a good time.
Slut shaming pisses me off to no end. Telling women that it is their fault for
getting raped is just wrong. Something needs to be changed because I know that it was
not my fault that I was raped. I may have been intoxicated and my shorts may have
been a little short but I was not the one who decided that it was okay to have sex with
someone while they were not able to give consent. It is something that I will have to live
with and deal with for the rest of my life.
Based on this experience and others that I have had I believe that something
needs to be done about the rape culture that is aspiring in our country. E.D. Hirsch Jr.s

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essay on cultural literacy defines a list of words that all Americans supposedly should
know. I believe that rape culture is one that should be added to this list. Rape culture
has been defined as a culture in which dominant cultural ideologies through media
images and social practices that normalize sexual abuse and blaming the victims for
this abuse. As a country we are teaching the younger generations that it is your own
fault when you are the victim of sexual assault. It is never the victims fault. Victims will
continue to believe that it is their fault until we begin to tell them that it was only the fault
of the person who assaulted them.
Before college I was raped. And no one can tell me that it was my fault.