Dear rapists,

I don’t give a fuck about your future.

I’m talking to you, Brock Turner, David Becker, Austin James Wilkerson. And rapists everywhere who rape and then marvel at being held accountable, who burst into big, crybaby tears as soon as they realize their actions may have consequences. Who society and our justice system bend over backward to make feel better and reassure about their goodness, whose futures a certain pocket of people are so determined to protect.

Not a single iota of my energy can be spared to consider what your life would be if you hadn’t raped a woman. If your future was so bright, I don’t think you’d have sullied it with sexual violence. If you’re as good a kid as people keep saying, you wouldn’t have raped anyone. If you were a good kid, you’d accept responsibility for your actions, but you’re not a good kid.

You’re a rapist.

And now you, your family, your friends, your coaches, teachers, the justice system and perfect strangers make excuses for you, waving off your actions as if you were at fault in a fender bender and not an act of sexual violence. “No, no,” they say, “he’s not a bad person, he’s just a rapist.”

Well, thank you for that shit distinction.

Rape is not a victimless crime, and you’re most certainly not the victim. Why should I feel sorry for you, or consider your future when you couldn’t consider that of the women you raped?

Rape survivors have to bear the weight of their assaults for the rest of their lives, while you, David Becker, get a free pass to enjoy your “college experience.” An experience that I, and other women, now have to fear will include raping more women. What about the experience of the women who will be your classmates, women who may or may not learn of your history with sexual violence, women you will have access to? Will they be safe from you or will you wait until they fall asleep and rape them as you did two other women? 

Fuck you.

It’s interesting (and by interesting, I mean disgusting) that you, David Becker didn’t even (technically) get away with rape. You, like your brother in sexual violence and aversion to accountability, Brock Turner (no, Brock Turner we haven’t forgotten about you, asshole) were found guilty. Just a few lesser charges here and an inexplicably sympathetic judge there, and you’re serving an itty bitty, inconsequential sentence.

Six months in jail for you, Brock Turner. Two years probation for you, David Becker. If you play this right, the conviction won’t even appear on your record. Oh, but you’re no criminal. You’re just a kid who made the teensy mistake of forcing yourself onto an unconscious woman. 

Fuck you.

Right, Austin James Wilkerson? You with the serial killer name who feigned concern for a drunk classmate, promised to take care of her, and raped her instead? Another interesting/disgusting thing here is that you too were convicted, and your sentence is still heavier than your rapist brethren mentioned in this piece. You’re going to prison for two years.

Your favorite thing to say? It was a difficult time “for everyone” but especially for you, right? 

Well, you’re sleeping in prison for two years. During the day you get to go to school so that, when you graduate, you’ll have a future waiting for you. As if that’s something you deserve after raping a woman. So many rapists are never convicted, never go to trial, but you did.  And you lost, but still, you won. 

Fuck you.

You may have heard about Nate Parker, actor, and writer of Birth of A Nation. While he was in college he allegedly raped a woman (I say allegedly only because you’re supposed to in journalistic settings like this one, and he was acquitted albeit on a misogynistic technicality). But I think he did it, and this is written to him, too.

(Fuck you, Nate Parker.) 

If you’re not a rapist, Nate Parker, you sure do talk like one. Like Brock Turner and David Becker and Austin James Wilkerson, you suffered, you feel bad, you regret that your accuser had a hard life and eventually committed suicide. Oh, how bad you feel that this hard thing happened as if it was a natural disaster occurring by no fault of your own as if the breadth of the damage couldn’t have been foreseen.

Your favorite thing to say? It was a difficult time “for everyone” but especially for you, right? 

It was definitely way worse for you than for your accuser, unconscious while you (allegedly) raped her alongside your friend, Jean Celestin, who was convicted before it was overturned. Your accuser had it easy when you and your friend (allegedly) harassed her after she reported you. It wasn’t hard on her at all when you were acquitted because you’d had consensual sex with her sometime before the (alleged) rape. When she was too traumatized to repeat her testimony in the hopes of convicting Celestin again, that had nothing to do with her (alleged) rape. When she committed suicide in 2012, I’m sure your (alleged) actions played no part. 

“No, no,” they say, “he’s not a bad person, he’s just a rapist.”

But you’re still here, right? So it’s fine. You, Nate Parker, are married with children and are now the face behind and in front of a film being heralded for its importance to black American history. Despite this terrible thing that happened, look how far you’ve come. It’s a miracle you survived (allegedly) raping a woman – how ever did you do it? By being a self-centered, unremorseful, piece of shit perhaps?

I get it – your vision of a rapist isn’t you. You’re a student with a bright future, not a shadow on the street awaiting his prey. But you are a predator, you are a rapist, and the fact you don’t match the wide depiction of one is what allowed you to rape in the first place. You were trusted, given the benefit of the doubt. No one could be so monstrous as to do what you did. No one but you, those like you, and those who will be like you when they see how little regard is shown to women and rape victims but how much is shown to rapists like you.

Judges Thomas Estes, Patrick Butler, and Aaron Persky (and your mom and dad and great-grandma Mabel) may care a whole lot about what’s going to happen to you, but I don’t give a fuck. Harry Belafonte and fans may be horrified at how quickly you’re abandoned when news of an (alleged) rape drops, but I don’t give a fuck.

I’ll never forget or forgive that you are a rapist. I wish nothing but bad things to you. I hope you flunk out of college and never find a job. I hope everyone–potential employers, friends, love interests, classmates–Googles your name and comes up with rapist. I hope this article comes up. Even if your parents and your friends don’t want to admit that you’re a flaming trash heap, I (and many others) don’t have that problem, and we’ll hold you accountable for the rest of your life.

I hope most of all that the survivors of your “mistake” find a way to move on from you, even just a little bit. I hope their futures are a thousand times brighter than yours. As for you, Nate Parker, well…it’s too late for the woman you (allegedly) raped, but I hope she’s found peace somewhere. Oh, and also that your career tanks. Starting with Birth of A Nation.  

Fuck you.

These things may never happen since not only are bad things not allowed to happen to you, but you’re immune to accountability. But I’ll hope anyway.

Fuck you, rapist. And your future.


I Who Do Not Give A Single Fuck


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  • Chelsea A. Hensley is a writer from St. Louis. She recently graduated with a BA in English from the University of Missouri. When she isn’t writing, she's enjoying a book, watching Netflix or listening to Beyoncé. Sometimes she even tries to do all three at once.