Once again, this is a black intracommunity issue. Do not like/any other reaction, comment, or share this post if you are not black. It. Is. Not. For. You.
Trigger/Content warning for rape and sexual assault mentions.
Oluwatoyin Salau was a young black woman who fought for the freedom of black people, and when the time came where she needed protection and sanctuary, a BLACK MAN used that opportunity to sexually assault her.
A black women stuck her neck out for black people everywhere and when a BLACK MAN saw that Oluwatoyin was vulnerable he used that vulnerability for his own sick and twisted gain.
We, as black men, all have a responsibility for the rape culture that exists within our community. The man who sexually assaulted Oluwatoyin does not exist in a vacuum. I'm sure that man had male black friends who heard him speak about black women, who heard the undertones of assualt in his language but who decided to say nothing against it.
Black men, how many of our peers have we heard talk about getting black women under some kind of influence before making advances? How many of us have we heard talk about getting a black woman drunk or high before trying something, ESPECIALLY if they talked about how that same black woman rejected them before. The language used in these situations always puts the onus on black women: It's to make her more "open" because we just know she's down; it's to make her "looser" because she's so uptight. The word we're looking for isn't "open," it isn't "looser," the word we're looking for is vulnerable. Vulnerable to not being able to leave the situation because they're too drunk to drive. Vulnerable to not having any assistance because there's no one else in the house to help. Vulnerable to being too intoxicated or high to articulate their rejection, even if that rejection has been very clear before. And had these same black men who say these things - our peers - been the one who approached Oluwatoyin, can you honestly say that they would have protected her?
Oluwatoyin was not high or drunk but she had no easy way to leave the situation. She had no way to contact her friends because her phone wasn't with her. She had no one to turn to because the black man's roommate was asleep. She told him about ANOTHER BLACK MAN who sexually assaulted her prior, and all that black man heard was that Oluwatoyin was vulnerable. Does that sound familiar?
Do we hear it in music we listen to? From the fellow black men in our circles? From the comedians we watch? From our own mouths?
Black women are always in the most danger but at the front of the movement, creating, organizing, advocating but getting no credit for all the work they do, despite all the danger they are in. Black women fight for black liberation, and we as black men consistently show black women that our idea of liberation does not include them. We show them that even if black men get equality black women will suffer the same. We praise black women for being strong, independent, and enduring, ignoring the fact that we are part of the reason that they HAVE to be. Because for black women, vulnerability is taken advantage of. For black women, vulnerability is a death sentence at our hands.
Everyday we as black men need to wake up and ask ourselves what we are doing for black women? Is it tangible? Does it affect the status quo? Because for black men who support Justice for Toyin it cannot just be about holding the black man who assaulted her accountable for his crimes, it also has to be about making sure what happened to her never happens to another black girl or woman ever again.
We cannot expect black women to fight for black people when only black men will reap the rewards, when the very same men black women fight for will turn around and hurt them. When black woman can't even trust black men to protect and support them when they are most vulnerable.
And Oluwatoyin Salau did not have to fight for us to be protected by us, she should have been protected unconditionally. Oluwatoyin Salau's life was stolen from her. Black men, we cannot ignore what happened. We cannot ignore our role in Oluwatoyin Salau's death, or the death and suffering of every black woman by our hands. May Oluwatoyin Salau rest in peace.
Once again - and I'll say it every time - everything I've said here has been said by black women for years.
Once again, the opinions of black women supercede my own.