Friday, October 14, 2016



The boat club didn’t have locker rooms. The guys changed in the boathouse, giving me a full clear view of their underwear and a full understanding of their conversations. The boathouse talk was frequently lewd. 99.9% of the time, the lewdness was about girls I only knew by name, if that, in different majors, so I let it be. But I do remember that even when it was lewd, it was always about how the girls were throwing themselves at the rowers because of their impressive looks/ athleticism/ major/ future prospects/ (ahem) technique (and I’m not talking about rowing), and how (ahem) good they’d made the girls feel with the (ahem) technique (again, not about rowing). It wasn’t about how they’d forced the girls to do things they didn’t want to do. It was about how desirable they were as men (or how desirable they THOUGHT they were) and what the girls WANTED (supposedly) to do with them because they were desirable (supposedly).

And I’m keeping this anonymous (notice I’ve never mentioned the school I rowed for by name) because it isn’t fair to discuss stuff about what people said more than ten years ago. 

(What people DID ten years ago is another matter entirely.)

I was once in a position where I was professionally and legally obliged to do my job for the benefit of a convicted criminal. The crime was of the very worst sort. The man was polite and charming. I did my best. I failed. He was very nice about it. I didn’t mean to fail. I went in there fully intending to do my job successfully. So, I don’t think it’s right to fault a court appointed lawyer for doing her job properly.

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