If we women do fall victim to some nefarious person, we must remember -- in spite of all the "friendly advice" we've been given -- that the blame lies solely on the back of those who would harm others.

It’s the little things. Not just one by one, like the single instance

I’m going to describe here, but all the little things put together.

They add up. They creep up on us and take root in our thoughts. They

fester and make us doubt ourselves. They are the thin and small voices

that remind us not to show too much skin at the beach or to put on

"sensible shoes" before walking in unfamiliar areas. These little

things, often described as "friendly advice," lay the groundwork for

self-blame.

As I was reading the Iowa Independent commentary by my colleague Douglas Burns, "How to Hit College Campuses with All the Right Moves," I found myself nodding at most of what he had to say. That is, until I got to point No. 7:

Women should always travel with friends to parties. On the college-campus party landscape, women can be in an especially

vulnerable position. This goes for universities and small colleges

alike. Sex. Abortion. Parenthood. Power. The latest news, delivered straight to your inbox. SUBSCRIBE If you doubt this, ask the directors at the women’s centers on campuses how many calls they get each year about date rapes. When

a young woman leaves her group of friends and goes it alone at a

fraternity party, a dorm bash or an off-campus gathering, she is at the

greatest risk of becoming a victim. Remember, perpetrators generally aren’t the guys who pop out from behind trees in the night. They are friends or acquaintances.

While I find no fault with instructing young people to travel in

groups or with a buddy, I do think it is unfair to only hold females to

this standard of safety. It implies that women are unable to protect

themselves. It implies that freedom, at least if you are female, has

consequences. Far worse still, it implies that women who do choose to

go stag are somehow "asking for it" because — let’s face it — women

have been warned.

Those men, even those you know, can’t be to blame for their actions

if you are alone at a party. (God forbid that a woman should be both

alone at a party and wearing make-up or perfume!) This is presumably

because men are entirely unable to control themselves. It is just as

your dear old abstinence-only educator taught you: women must have

enough control for both genders.

If I could give Burns and other like-minded people a gift it would

be for them to be able to visit a domestic violence shelter and have

the residents speak openly and honestly to them. Most who have never

been subjected to that type of situation often think of it in terms of

violence. We imagine the hitting, the raping, the kicking, the

injuries. But the really deep stuff isn’t typically what can be seen.

It’s the stuff that is carried inside — fear and guilt of the same

type, but on a much larger scale, than what Burns is advocating with

his well-meaning advice.

One of the most poignant things I’ve read this year is "Beyond Rape," a first-hand account of rape by journalist Joanna Connors. It details not

only the rape she suffered 20-some years ago, but her reaction and

embodiment of it. For more than two decades she believed it was her

private burden, but acknowledges that it became little more than a

"genetic disease" that she probably passed on to her children.

There are some of us — myself included — who have had trauma so

great in our lives that we cannot help but to pass some of the fear,

guilt and anger to our children. My children will never have

opportunity to escape their brother’s death. Because I’m afraid, they

will never know a carefree mom who allows them to circle the block

alone on their bicycle. Only time will tell how many generations of my

family will feel the breeze from the butterfly wings that were

fluttered nearly 10 years ago.

A great song that describes the concept of passing fear and

self-blame to subsequent generations is "Because of You," sung by Reba

McEntire and Kelly Clarkson:

Because of you I never stray too far from the sidewalk.

Because of you I learned to play on the safe side so I don’t get hurt.

Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me.

Because of you I am afraid.

My oldest daughter will begin her junior year in high school this

fall. In just two short years I will watch, with much more fear than

should be allotted any one mother, as she takes her final few steps

toward independence. Neither she nor I can escape the fear that has

already been placed in our hearts because of a family member who died

too soon. But both she and I — as well as all the other women in the

world — can stop this dreadful practice of self-doubt and self-blame.

Women don’t make men rape them. Women don’t "ask for it" by the way

they dress, going alone to parties, having breasts or vaginas, parking

in dark areas, carrying condoms or wearing make-up.

Just like all other members of society, we do our best to protect

ourselves. If we do fall victim to some nefarious person, we must

always remember — in spite of the multitude of friendly advice we’ve

been given — that the blame lies solely on the back of those who would

harm others.