Rape affects almost 20% of US women, study says - BBC News

The study revealed that sexual violence against men is also prevalent

Nearly 20% of women in the US are raped or suffer attempted rape at some point in their lives, a US study says.

Even more women, estimated at 25%, have been attacked by a partner or husband, the Centers for Disease Control said.

The findings form part of the first set of results from a nationwide study surveying sexual violence by intimate partners against men and women.

More than 24 people a minute reported rape, violence, or stalking, it says, with 12 million offences reported.

Experts at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) described the results of the first year of the National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey as "astounding".

Among the key figures included in the survey's findings were:

• more than one million women were raped in the 12 months prior to the survey, estimates show
• more than six million women and men were a victim of stalking
• more than 12 million women and men reported rape, physical violence or stalking by an intimate partner over the course of a year.

Lifelong hurt

"People who experience sexual violence, stalking or intimate partner violence often deal with the effects for their entire life," said Dr Linda Degutis, director of CDC's National Center for Injury Prevention and Control.

Many of those attacked experience rape or sexual assault in their early years, with almost 80% of rape victims suffering their ordeal before the age of 25.

Some 35% of women raped before they were aged 18 were also raped as adults, Dr Degutis added.

Among the effects measured by the study, Dr Degutis said, were increased fears for safety and incidents of post-traumatic stress among victims.

Clinical conditions including asthma, irritable bowel syndrome, diabetes, frequent headaches, chronic pain and difficulty sleeping were also more likely in women who are raped or subject to assault.

There were also clear findings about the incidences of attacks on men and observations about health impacts on men who suffer rape or sexual assault.

An estimated one in 71 men has been raped at some point in their lives, the study finds.

Almost 53% of male victims experienced some form of intimate partner violence for the first time before the age of 25. Some 25% of male rape victims were first raped when they were 10 years old or younger, the findings show.

The study data was based on a survey of 9,086 women and 7,421 men from around the US, the CDC said. Results were weighted in an effort to ensure nationally representative results.

Researchers conceded that sample size limited the study, but said they felt the methods used in the survey were likely to encourage genuine responses.

Research was carried out in a health context, the CDC said, without involvement of law enforcement, in an effort to ensure respondents felt able to describe incidents that could have involved close friends or family members.

Why DO young women go out dressed like this? We meet nightclubbers in four major cities to find the surprising and unsettling answer to the question despairing mothers are asking

By TANITH CAREY

Last updated at 9:43 AM on 30th November 2011

Eight o’clock on a freezing November evening — but for all the skimpy outfits on the streets of Manchester, you’d think it was 80 degrees on the Costa Brava. Here the women’s hems are so high — and their tops so low — that there’s no more than a few inches of fabric to shield them from the biting winter cold.

Only the fake tans manage to hide the goosebumps as they totter along uncertainly in six-inch ‘hooker heels’, arm in arm for support.

Tonight it’s Hannah Lawson’s 18th birthday and she’s out on the town with five of her college friends after spending three hours getting ready. Teamed with leopard-print ankle boots, her outfit lends a whole new meaning to the term ‘Little Black Dress’

Suspenders: The tights worn by these two young females in Newcastle would have once been kept behind closed doors. The woman in red cowboy hat is keen to show off her her tiny skirt and lace thong

Party girls: See-through lace tops like the one worn by the brunette, right, in Newcastle, have become a guaranteed way for women to 'get male attention'

Red alert: This woman's revealing dress shows off a tattoo of flowers running up her leg. Right, this lady in Cardiff goes for the look of a burlesque dancer 

As she and her identically dressed friends line up, hands on hips, only the mottled skin on their naked legs hints at the six-degree temperature. But Hannah proclaims it’s worth it to give them that all-important quality: ‘confidence’.

‘Male attention is good. Then you know you look good,’ she says.

 

More...

• Tulisa hits a bum note as her sheer dress leaves little to the imagination on X Factor
• No sex please, we're Japanese: Country heads for extinction as survey reveals young people shunning marriage
• Former I’m A Celebrity star, Kim Woodburn, reveals how the jungle spurred her to have a boob job aged 69
• Casual sex and 'bad touching': Guess what your eight-year-old is learning at school these days

‘Yeah, guys wink and make sly remarks,’ chips in her friend Eleanor, 17. They have only just hit the streets, but already they know that their skimpy outfits have made an impact — another group of girls has branded one of their number ‘a slag’.

‘They’re just jealous because we’re beautiful and look young!’ says their friend Ruby Crowther, 19.

Of course, there’s nothing new about young women wanting to look alluring on a night out. But visit Britain’s town centres at night and you cannot fail to notice a disturbing trend: today’s generation of girls have fallen for a style of clothing that is perhaps best described as ‘stripper-chic.’

The standard uniform — micro-miniskirts, sky-high heels and low tops — was once worn only by prostitutes on dingy street corners. Now it’s a mainstream style adopted by almost every female clubber and party-goer under the age of 30.

Why do they cheapen themselves so — especially at a time when young women have never had a greater opportunity to reject crass sexual stereotypes of old.

After all, girls are outperforming boys at every stage of schooling. In the workplace, female employees are starting to out-earn their male counterparts.

Why is it, then, in an age of true equal opportunity that so many women are dressing in such a demeaning way?

By visiting four cities around Britain — Newcastle, Manchester, Cardiff and London — on one night, the Mail set out to talk to these women and discover what motivates their choice of clothing. Their answers gave a surprising — and disturbing — insight into the values of a generation.

Joanne Avery, 23, is a clerical assistant from Chester-le-Street, Co. Durham, out clubbing in Newcastle. Her £45 Playboy skirt sits low enough to reveal a white thong, above it is tattooed her personal motto: ‘Couldn’t give a f***.’ It’s accessorised by another on her upper arm that reads: ‘Raw Sex.’

Joanne’s extensive wardrobe back at home — which includes 25 pairs of high heels — is made possible by the fact she still lives with her family. Indeed, it is her father who lends her money to help fund her £500 a month eBay shopping habit.

A group of friends in Cardiff prepare for the night ahead... but will they still look this way after a night of drinking?

Back to front: The extremely tight skirts of these young women in Cardiff reach the very tops of their thighs. Right, another young reveller wears a see-through top while her friend opts for platform heels in Newcastle 

Joanne has no qualms about sharing the reasons why she is dressed so provocatively tonight. ‘I’m looking for a bit of totty. You have to dress in a certain way to get attention.

‘If you’ve got t**s, it helps. It does make me feel more confident. I’m a slut, but it’s OK to be a slut as long as you use protection, which most people don’t.’

For Joanne, it is simply not an option to dress more tastefully. ‘I’d never dress in jeans. I just wouldn’t like it. I always want to wear slutty clothes.’

It would be tempting to dismiss her comments as a one-off. But among the ‘stripper-chic’ girls whom we interviewed in Cardiff, Manchester, Newcastle and London, it was clear that there are many others like her: ordinary women dressing in a deliberately sexualised style. 

 'I’m a slut, but it’s OK to be a slut as long as you use protection, which most people don’t'

Among their number were students, nurses, trainee accountants, trainee social workers, nurses and full-time mothers. When asked why they revealed so much of themselves, the answer came back time and time again: ‘It’s for confidence.’

Naomi Maxfield, an 18-year-old musical theatre student from Chesterfield, was out on the town  in Newcastle.

‘I like getting male attention. If I didn’t, I would think: “What’s  wrong?” ’ she says. ‘It’s quite a nice feeling. It makes you more confident. Guys smile at you, wink, whistle, try to chat you up.’

Natasha Parish, 19, a hairdresser from Newcastle, has taken an hour and a half to apply her fake tan, lashes and make-up. Once again, she cites the need to feel confident for her choice of clothing. ‘I think dressing up is a part of being a modern woman. I’m OK with how I look.

‘It is nice to get a bit of male attention, not too much. It makes me more confident if I know that I’m looking attractive.’

Given the acres of limbs that are exposed, you might assume that these girls are proud of their bodies. Quite the opposite.

It emerges that in many cases their outfits — and the male leering it provokes — are often a way to bandage up their insecurities in a world where they can’t match up to the  oh-so-sexy, celebrity stereotypes  of womanhood.

It doesn’t always work out as they hoped, as Sian, an 18-year-old carer on a night out in Cardiff, admits. Her insecurities about showing off her figure in such revealing clothes are so profound that she admits to drinking spirits with her friend to work up the bravery to leave the house.

‘We looked in the mirror before we left the house and were so upset that we necked half a bottle of vodka each.’

These shoes were made for walking: Three young revellers stride down the streets of Newcastle

The little black dresses: These two nightclubbers clutch their handbags in Manchester. Right, two more girls in Manchester who have minimal clothes on 

Her friend Beth, a student, is wearing suspender-style tights, made popular by celebrities such as Rihanna. She says she didn’t buy them to look sexy or fashionable, but to cover up her legs, which she describes as ‘vile.’

‘There’s lots of pressure to look good. Boys always want that perfect person and other women all look amazing.’

Natasha Parish also ‘hates’ her legs — though you would never guess it from the scarlet and black micro-mini she is wearing in Newcastle city centre.

‘I wish girls wore a bigger variety of clothes going out,’ she says. ‘That’s why I wear dresses — everyone else does, so I would look stupid if I wore a longer skirt or trousers. I do wish it was easier and that I could go out in less revealing clothes.’

When Amber Davies, 21, a full–time mother from Bristol goes out in Cardiff, she wears her full armoury including a push-up bra and false eyelashes. But she has the self-knowledge to realise that ultimately it’s not a very convincing mask.

‘The only problem is that this isn’t what we really look like. In the morning, you’d be there without your hair extensions, make-up and false eyelashes, or your body-control pants — and you’d look completely different. Nobody knows what you really look like when you’re dressed up like this.’

The ubiquitous sky-high heels, fake-tanned legs and micro-skirts are about trying to create an illusion of perfection. With so many young women deep-down hating the way they look, provoking lust has simply become the easiest way they know to make themselves feel better. It’s about provoking a reaction.

 'Girls had their bottoms touched and squeezed by men coming up behind them - or they were forcefully coerced into bars'

As Charlene David, 25, and Stacey Leonard, 27, stop to chat, two male bystanders come up behind them, put their hands around their waists and tell them they look beautiful.

Far from brushing them off, both girls said it illustrated the usual reaction they provoked from men — and asked for the compliments to  be recorded.

Other girls were also seen being touched and having their bottoms squeezed by men coming up behind them — or being forcefully coerced into bars. Because they were barely able to walk on their stilt-like shoes, many couldn’t stagger away, even if they wanted to.

It is Leanne McGinley, 25, a mother-of-two in a leopard-print dress, who sums up the contradiction. ‘I do find the male attention irritating. But it would feel a bit weird if there wasn’t any.’

The price they pay is not just to their self-esteem, but also to their bodies. They are willing to go through agony to spend the evening walking around in hooker heels, of up to six inches. Girls report coming home with feet bloodied from blisters.

But still they say the pain is worth it to look taller and thinner. Kelly Hewitt, 22, a full-time mother from Durham, says: ‘I’ve still got clothes with tags in. My highest heels are six or seven inches — I can walk around all night in most of them.

‘Of course it hurts, but I think it’s worth it. If you want to look good, beauty is pain.’

If it gets cold as she walks between pubs and clubs, she says she just drinks more. ‘The drink warms you up by the end of the night.’

But despite the fact these girls endure the chill and the blisters to look as they do, there is no sense of sisterhood. Instead women fight for pole position on the league table for who looks ‘hottest’.

It’s a contest that can spill into aggression and even violence. As the evening goes on, the alcohol flows and the pairings start to happen. Catfights break out, with competing tribes of girls shouting ‘slag!’ at each other from opposite sides of the street.

It comes as little surprise to discover that the more the women dress like strippers, the more men treat them that way. Among the men we spoke to, one described the women out on the town as ‘eye candy for free’ — and a chance to ‘window shop’.

Toby Harris, 29, a project manager from London, says he likes women dressing in barely-there clothes ‘because you get to think whether you want to sleep with them later’.

‘It’s a certain sort of women who dresses that way — easy chicks,’ he says. ‘They’re definitely not a long-term prospect because they are easy.’ In many cases, that sexist view may well be crass and unjustified. After all, shouldn’t women be free to dress as they please without being judged? But whatever their motivation for dressing as they do, there is no escaping how the micro-skirted mob are perceived by men.

Tom Jones, 23, a landscape gardener from Cardiff, says: ‘It’s good to give the game away and know what you’re getting. The less clothing the better.’

For Lewis Quinn, 23, an electrician from London: ‘Being around all these women is like being at a funfair with glaring lights in your face — but they’re not the sort I go for as it’s too revealing for me.’

What, then, of the parents of the girls who see their daughters disappear off into the night looking like life-sized Bratz dolls?

According to the women we interviewed, only a few parents had raised any serious objections. The greatest concern appeared to be the worry they might catch cold — not that they dressed so provocatively.

Some girls reported that their mothers checked their outfits before they went out and said they ‘looked nice’. Others said their mothers sometimes accompanied them out clubbing, envied their figures — and even borrowed their clothes.

Psychologist Dr Linda Papadopoulos, author of the Home Office Review on the Sexualisation of Girls, believes society has become so influenced by porn culture that no one knows where to draw the line any more.

‘We are inheriting more from the porn culture than we realise — everything from fake nails to fake tans. Porn has become mainstream.

‘The sad thing is that the confidence of these girls has become directly proportionate to how they look. It doesn’t come from what they have achieved or what skills they have learned. It comes from how much attention and looks they get from men.

‘Of course, there’s nothing new about wanting to be desired and complimented. But with these young women, it’s not just that they like compliments. They crave them.

‘The problem comes when your only desire is to be desired.’

Additional reporting: Jenny Stocks & Laura Topham.

Angry Britain: why are we becoming so intolerant? - The Guardian

From racist outbursts on public transport to comedians baiting strikers and disabled people, there's an ugly mood in the air. What's making us increasingly cranky about our fellow citizens? And is there any cure for this modern malaise?

• We feel your anger: read some of the readers' responses to this article

• •  reddit this
• Comments (960)

• 
• • Hugh Muir
  • guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 6 December 2011 20.00 GMT
  • Article history

The fate of England captain John Terry rests with the Crown Prosecution Service over claims of racist abuse that the player denies. Photograph: Dean Mouhtaropoulos/Getty Images

There is a film that is never discussed when people talk about the classics of Hollywood – and with good reason – but nonetheless, The Crazies provides a brief diversion. The 1973 horror flick, directed by George A Romero, is set in anytown USA, a homogenous, god-fearing, God Bless America kind of place. An American version of Midsomer – minus the murders. And the premise is that things go haywire when someone dastardly puts a little something in the water.

Suddenly, strait-laced types start cursing and fighting. Scores are settled. People who want stuff just start taking it. Repressed attractions spring into public view and, as part of that, there's a fleeting, comic glimpse of horny neighbours humping in the high street. A thin veneer disintegrates. What lies beneath?

Britain in December 2011 feels a bit like that place. Nothing to do with the privatised water companies, I'm sure, but for whatever reason, it does feel as if the safety catch has developed a fault, as if the car is on a slope and someone has disengaged the handbrake.

There is an element of devil-may-care to the way we treat each other. You see it on the streets, in supermarkets, on public transport, hear it on the talk shows, read it on the internet threads. Go on to YouTube: three instances now of apparently ratty women berating fellow passengers on the public transport network. Emma West, from Croydon, south London,faces criminal charges for an alleged racially aggravated public order offence. The matter will now be decided by a court. The two others were posted subsequently, with more scenes of acrid cabaret. Women letting rip with barely concealed indecency, broadcasting to all who failed to tune them out that there are just too many foreigners. If that is not enough for you, read the online comments beneath the videos – note the rancourous tone of those who do battle, both for and against. Disregard the contributions from the far right; no one expects decency from them anyway. It is the aggression from those who might see themselves as middle of the road that is worthy of note.

Consider what we say these days to get a laugh. Jeremy Clarkson knows his audience and it is a large, enduring, loyal one that has made him very rich. What would you do to striking nurses? "I'd shoot them," says the jester for our times, and he is unapologetic until the furore threatens his bottom line and forces an apology. Even then, contrition is only partial. People who kill themselves by jumping under trains play havoc with the schedules, complains Clarkson.

Ricky Gervais is even more successful than the Top Gear presenter, a big wheel in Britain and a feted talent in the US. He sees humour in a phrase associated with Down's syndrome. Many object, but still many are with him. We love the comedian Jimmy Carr; it's a big time for him, with DVDs ready for the Christmas market. He also has top stuff about Down's and zingers about wounded British soldiers.

What do we like on the telly? Reality shows, the louder and coarser the better. Shows highlighting celebrities desperate for cash or attention – or both – and therefore willing to debase themselves.

Think about football. The England captain John Terry, ignominious with his fate in the hands of the Crown Prosecution Service amid disputed claims that he called Anton Ferdinand of Queens Park Rangers a "black cunt". Football, always a pressure cooker, continually reveals much of what lies beneath. While the judicial authorities ponder Terry's case, the Premier League wonders what to do about Luis Suárez of Liverpool, who may or may not have racially abused Patrice Evra of Manchester United during a high-profile fixture. This despite all the efforts over several years of campaigns such as the anti-racist Kick It Out initiative. The big boys lead by example. Muslim players with beards who turn out in the lower leagues go prepared each week for the likelihood that someone will try to provoke them by calling them "Bin Laden".

Think about schools, where an ebullient, engaging New Zealand-born teacher called Suran Dickson has felt moved to leave her job and launch a charity to try to curb the worrying incidence of homophobic bullying in our schools, where terms such as "gay boy" and "homo" are playground missiles of choice. Where do these attitudes come from, I asked her the other day. Mostly their parents, she said.

If someone hasn't taken the handbrake off – facilitating a slow but steady decline towards grouchiness and intolerance and not a little meanness – it certainly feels like it.

How did we get here? There are many theories from which to take your pick. An obvious one is money. For the past decade we had a lot. Or at least, with plastic prevalent, it felt as if we had an unlimited supply. Now we know better, and we don't like it. The prime minister says we are all in this together, but no one believes him. The immediate landscape looks rocky for most people, and, beyond it, the going looks increasingly impassable. Wages cut, jobs lost, services run down, disillusionment with the establishment and the political class; little wonder people are cross. And, as we know, angry people behave badly.

Cary Cooper, professor of organisational psychology and health and pro vice chancellor at Lancaster University, says we are witnessing "an exercise in civic frustration" – hard times cause fear and insecurity. "People feel financial insecurity, job insecurity," he says. "They don't even trust the health service. They feel social insecurity and project it on to other people. They can't get angry at the government or the bankers or economists or the NHS, so they take it out on others they can get to."

He is surprised to one extent, he says. "I am an American and I have lived here for 30 years but I don't quite understand what is happening. In the US, they blame a lot when things go wrong and go over the top when things go right – so you have Steve Jobs, for example, as a hero for our lifetime. Here one expects something different. What is happening is the opposite of the 'Dunkirk spirit'. There is a lot of blame culture and I think it is rather sad. It's cathartic for people personally, but it doesn't solve the problem; in fact, it makes things worse by creating negativity. Maybe if things do actually get worse, that Dunkirk spirit will kick in."

But there is something else that has less to do with money and more to do with politics. That cannot be blamed on the vagaries of the financial system or voracious brokers selling mortgages to people who cannot afford them. This was not foisted upon us; this was a choice. Two years ago, amid the deafening clamour of complaints about the scourge of "political correctness" – wails and lamentations from a crew diverse enough to include David Cameron, PD James and Cliff Richard – I wrote a piece for the Guardian site Comment is Free pointing out that those who complained of being silenced by political correctness were usually the ones who enjoyed a platform to make politically incorrect pronouncements, much like errant schoolboys hurling stink bombs into public places. I posed the question: "What would they be like without a handbrake?"

The thesis bears repeating. "Political correctness has become the complaint of choice for those who don't like their world; for men who fear their positions are being eroded by women, white people who fear too much attention is being paid to non-white people, minorities jealous of other minorities, non-disabled folk who can't see why buses should have wheelchair ramps, tall people who fear short people. It embraces everything. It means nothing."

Which was true, but that did not mean it was without value. As a concept to be built up by the right and then knocked down, "political correctness" was pretty useful. It gave a disparate battalion of the aggrieved something to rally round. They fought the fight, and any honest evaluation would have to conclude that they have been pretty successful. Anything that smacks of being PC – including moves against racism, sexism, gender discrimination or homophobia – risks being confronted by the right as just another example of the old discredited orthodoxy.

There was a battle of ideas. And, the war itself is not over. But for now, they have won. And the result is a country that is a bit less civil, a bit more selfish, a bit more reckless over the sensitivities of others. This was inevitable. Those who argued against the boundaries they perceived as part and parcel of political correctness and railed against equalities cannot credibly complain about the scratchiness and volatility of life with the handbrake off. They fought long and hard to disengage it. People such as the honourable member for Shipley, Philip Davies, parliamentary mouthpiece for the Campaign Against Political Correctness, who has been seeking to tie up the Equalities Commission with inane questions, the better to make his political point. His puzzlers include: "The Black Police Association. Isn't that racist?"; "Is it OK to black up one's face?"; "Is it racist for a policeman to refer to a BMW as 'black man's wheels'?"

Let's have a shout out for the Tory MP Matthew Hancock, whoapologised for the last government's Equalities Act to businessmen at a fringe debate at last year's Conservative party conference – the act was aimed at outlawing discrimination in the workplace. You can rely on us to undermine it, he said. And then there is Peter Davies, father of Philip. He was elected in Doncaster for the English Democrats, pledging to sweep away all vestiges of political correctness. He discovered on the morning after his election that much of what he had promised to do was probably illegal.

All did their bit. For all that, life without the social handbrake and the decency so often denounced as political correctness does not seem to have made them any happier. No one has benefited from it, really.

Linda Bellos, chair of the Institute of Equalities and Diversity Practitioners, says the problem is not a large group of people, but an atmosphere created by a small group of people, which has an impact upon everybody. "They have made it OK. There has been a period in our recent social history in which it was not acceptable to say certain things, but now people feel they have the authority," she says. "We are entitled to think what we like about each other. We have freedom to think. But morally, we do not have unfettered freedom of expression. There are things we can say but don't. People think it is OK to speak ignorance and hatred. They think they have the green light."

The authority, claims Bellos, comes from the top. "If you look at much of the rhetoric about taking back powers from Europe, for example, much of the legislation being described refers to equalities. When ministers speak about it, they are using a kind of code."

We are free societies, with freedom of speech and the right to offend, but all civilised societies need some kind of handbrake. The alternative is Lord of the Flies spanning several continents. Our main brake is the law and the judicial system, but before things reach that stage there is just us, making hundreds of micro-decisions each day about how we view and treat our fellow citizens.

Perhaps, as Cooper suggests, there is a cultural element here. Some societies are known to be faster and louder and brasher and less forgiving than others, as many people find when first they arrive in London, and any Londoner discovers when making the adjustment to life in Manhattan. There is a spectrum embracing, at one end, those countries where the general culture seems relatively gentle and, at the other, those that require a strong nerve and a flak jacket. We had a particular place on the spectrum. One senses that we have moved.

What to do? Well, the first thing to understand is that the handbrake that has been disengaged can be reapplied. There is a sense of right and wrong within the British psyche. The ratty YouTube women may have held centre stage, but it is worth noting that, in each case, their outbursts were challenged. Some may have agreed with the view that the country is overrun with migrants, but one could do that and still feel outrage at the way these people chose to behave.

We bait celebrities and other masochists who volunteer for televised humiliation, but at some point there is always a public row about degradation. We err, we stray, but we know we have a default position and we retain a rough idea of where it is. John Terry holds a high-profile role representing his country, but when the allegations surfaced, he found himself the subject of police inquiries and a candidate for prosecution. One wonders if the captain of a national team would have endured such public criticism for a sin of alleged racism if that nation were Italy or Spain.

And that is a point worth ending on. For even if things do seem to be unravelling a bit, this is a still a small island nation that strives, with some success, to fuse the destinies of people who have been here for hundreds of years with those of people who arrived yesterday. People with all sorts of complexions, all kinds of lifestyles; people with strong religious beliefs, people with none. We live together in cities, not in silos. We tend not to pry, but, if needed, we try to help. We try to live and let live. There are problems – the events of a turbulent summer and all we learned from those who were involved show that. There are serious challenges. But given the potential for division and societal dysfunction, the record is pretty good. It is right to take stock, and hopefully we will return to equilibrium, emerging a little less cranky. Still, the UK with the handbrake off remains a better place to be than many others with the handbrake firmly engaged.