Richmond, CA, is a snug fit between the Chevron spewing toxic refinery; an unglamourous bridge which transports one from nowhere to somewhere; and the city of San Pablo with it's wannabe Reno card casino. In two brutal weeks, Richmond with world media coverage that rivals the twinkie murders (god bless you, Harvey and George) went from podunk to infamy and now faces the relentless scrutiny of shrinks and teachers, police and politicians. The thing is I don't give a flying F about the 'why.' What happened in Richmond was a raw, unrelenting, stark, reminder that as women, our bodies, even in our homes are always at risk. Once 20 years ago I took a weapons class. I went out to a firing range and practiced shooting at targets with different calibers of hand guns. I've lived in houses where several women owned guns for protection. I'm always reminded of them when shit like this happens. I don't really want to know the answers to the following questions. Because I don't care. But for judicial sake: Who are the parents of these boys? Where exactly did they learn misogyny? Do they have sisters? And does liquored up justify gang banging? Screw (a sick pun) the trial. Give them all life sentences, even the 15 year old, toss the key, and unleash the Furies.
Actually, I've always thought the punishment for rape should be castration. Harsh? Nothing can replace the innocence and spirit of a girl/woman so violently robbed and pyschologically maimed. OK, nothing's so cut (another sick pun) and dry, but that's how that crime makes me feel.
ReplyDeleteI agree with you Carmel, I've always felt that same way. If men knew castration would be the punishment, don't you think rape would almost never happen?
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