House Bill H.R. 3 Punishes Victims of Rape and Disproportionately Impacts African American Women

Rape is one of the most heinous crimes an individual can commit, specifically as attack on women. Unfortunately it seems that the majority male dominated Republican members of the US House of Representatives do not consider Rape as an unconscionable act.

 Last May, the U.S. Congress passed the Republican proposed H.R.3, the “No Taxpayer Funding

for Abortion Act.” To state it lucidly plane, it is an anti-choice bill that some have even described as being “pro-rape.” In essence, the GOP in the House have via law, legislated a mandate rooted in Christian dogma that abortion is a sin. H.R. 3, although labeled as an anti-abortion bill, contains a provision that says rape had to be “forced,” as if there can be any other kind of rape. In addition, it contains provisions that allows for the IRS to monitor and audit all public and private attempts to fund abortions even in the case of both of rape and incest, something that will be in a position to have a major impact on African American women subject to domestic and sexual abuse and assault.

Although about 80% of all victims are white, African American women are raped and more likely to be attacked than any other ethnic group. Moreover, children are at risk. In 2000, nearly 88,000 children in the United States experienced sexual abuse. According to the Violence Against Women, Report published by the Bureau of Justice Statistics, U.S. Dept. of Justice 18% are black and around fifty percent of all rape victims are in the lowest third of income distribution. The Centers of Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) African American students are significantly more likely than white students to have been forced to have sexual intercourse.

According to medical reports, the incidence of pregnancy for one-time unprotected sexual intercourse is 5% which equals more than 3200 pregnancies that occur as a result of rape.

The main sponsor of the bill was Chris Smith (R-NJ). The bill obtained support and votes from all except five Republicans who were not in attendance for the vote in addition to sixteen democrats. However, what the Bill ignores is that although rape is about forcing sex on an unwilling individual, it does not always have to involve brute force. It can also be accomplished by making a victim physically unable to resist via alcohol or drugs, or the threat of force. It can also be accomplished by emotionally manipulating helpless children or adults who may have diminished mental capacities, or in the example of inmates, where there is an imbalance of power as in the case of guards vs. inmates.

Do Right, All Day woman

Wanted to thank yawl who dropped me an accolade or two regarding my 400th post. I also want to add I love the way yawl think. Although I was torn between bashing on Lewis and Clark again (did so 2 years ago in a post) and writing on how they are experimenting on black folks again in Baltimore by dropping sewage sludge in their yards without permission (2morrows post). Instead, I was motivated by yawl, in particular MrsGrapevine, Q, Sista GP, FatLady, Aunt Jackie, the Princess CC and msladydeborah to present what I desire since im not a prince charming (and thanks to all who observed that I am a King).

MrsGrapevine asserted that men do not have such because we “have beauty queen contestants, models, video "vixens", Martha Stewart, and all these fake.” I agree completely, but still I had never searched for a perfect mate ever, only a woman that made my heart boil - albeit i have a penchant for commitment. So I started to think. I do recall that as I child I only desired a woman in terms of occupation. In fact up until jr. high, I stilled wanted her to be a super hero. From as far I can recant, from early childhood, I also desired for my mate to be a scientist, so we could explore and blow-up shit together in bliss. I too gave that up.

But up until I read the comments to this post, I had never thought about describing or labeling the perfect mate for me. So via soul searching, I have decided to describe her in accordance with one of my favorite songs by Aretha Franklin. Yep, I want a Do Right All Day Woman.

I mean, since women (or men) aint like cereal boxes where you can read what you getting with each serving before you buy it, I think that title suits the woman I desire. I think in some form or fashion, from Lolita Smith (5th grade) to Yodi and Monique Williams, to my son’s Mom and Fallon, all of these women had great qualities and bad ones - just as I do. That’s what made them special to me. None were complete and I didn’t expect them to be. I expected and understood that relationships were a growing deal and that they required hard work and maintaining like an old house or car.

To me a Do Right All Day woman is a person you can depend on, a friend first and a staunch critique of you as an individual. They want to maximize the utility of your performance. They care about you and things you love as you do. They are dependable and will love your kids and family as their own. They don’t take no mess when it comes to their man and family. In addition, she never makes excuses for what she does or did not do. A Do right all day woman is a hard worker, doesn’t expect handouts, cherishes each day of her life and is committed to WE and never is selfish or look at herself as me, I or my. They are faithful, honest and more importantly unconditional in giving and accepting love for they know they are earth, the givers of life and the true queen that a man would desire as a mother, wife, lover, sister or friend.

Now I know I still have some standards that may not be available on today’s market, and leg-blocking still remains a no no in my book. But in short, ladies you are right and wrong, I want a do right all day woman, cause im a do right all night man.

a diamond treated like glass

Now for me, i'm down to 3 generations. For my son and daughter, they still have four. But not me, my granny died and may have left me, but she will always be in my heart, maybe that is why the sporadic crying existed. But yawl don’t feel me though. I remember, at least from age nine, going down either via plane or bus, to Macon, to kick it with my grand mother. My momma, although she and my birth father divorced before I was two, made sure that I spent quality time with my grandma on his side of the family. I can still remember the old house, on the Eastside of Macon, on 1109 Boone Street. Every time I was on that dirt road her house was on, I got excited. She would always take me in the kitchen and my Aunt, her daughter would give me her room for the summer and she would sleep with my grandma in that two-bedroom edifice. Instantly, she would start making me one of her citywide and well know pound cakes. And as I waited, she would always slice me up fresh cucumbers out of her garden and put them in a bowl with vinegar, salt and pepper.

My aunt ran a record shop and some days, I would spend the day with her and would always find myself playing in the back room where she had all of the black light posters. I remember it like yesterday. My mom flew down for her funeral. That is what type of woman she is. In fact that’s the kind of woman I want. Even if remarried, to respect me as such. My son’s mother is like that. Maybe that’s why the first scripture was Proverb 31 – that was indeed my granny. She made sure I had checks coming all the time, and she knew and often said about my father “That N***** aint shit.”

I mean, If my other granny died, I don’t think my birth father would be ma enough or respectful enough to do the same. You see, I never really met him until I was Junior in college. He never called, nor did he write or provide for me in all of my years. He was not at my high school graduation, nor my undergraduate or my graduations for my Master’s or PhD. He wasn’t around when my son, nor my daughter were born. He didn’t care. And now I find it strange, that he even refers to or attempts to call my son and daughter his grand children. I don’t have any bad blood, I just do not see him as that which he claims to be: my father or their grand father.

At the funeral, my mother, children and I road in the first limo with he, his wife, and daughter, and my Aunt. Now I do consider her my sister, because she loves me and shows it, and also loves my kids. They know more about her, my granny and her daughter – my aunt than they do of him. I have no more tears for my granny, for in all of her life I only saw and felt love and compassion and as a person, I never heard her complain at all. She was that humble.

In the church, she laid there, in her pink coffin, with her pink dress on, looking like the queen she was. My sister held on to me. I had to whisper in her ear not to cry, for granny was lucky to have had the greatest grand children in the world, for we made her proud. All she could do was smile, wipe her eyes and squeeze my hand tighter. While I was sitting on the front pew, I couldn’t help but remember how big the church was when I was a child. But looking at it now, it wasn’t so big at all. In fact the opposite. But it had style. On the left hand side were I was sitting, were women all in white. The minister, as my mom called him was old school. He would hum after every sentence and if it got good to him, he would extend his words in chord form, and kneel down to the ground and rise. The organ player would embellish his chants with staccato-riffed chords that seem to make his kneels to the ground longer.
But to make a long story short, it has been a long week. My granny is gone, but she lived 89 long and wonderful years. Now I have one left, and she is 87. Both of them are diamonds. They were as such, even when people treated them like glass. The first scripture they read described my grandma to a tee – Proverbs 31. However, her favorite scripture was Psalms 37. And we all know how the first lines read:

“Fret not yourself because of the wicked,
Be not envious of wrongdoers!
For they will soon fade like the grass
And wither like the green herb.”

Yep, grandma Hazel, like my grandma Virgie are diamonds, and remained diamonds, even when other treated them like glass.