We Called It Rape Culture for a Reason. And That Reason Still Exists

There was a time when we named things clearly. We called it rape culture. Not to be provocative. Not to shock. Not to divide. But to survive. We u

There was a time when we named things clearly.

We called it rape culture.

Not to be provocative. Not to shock. Not to divide.

But to survive.

We used that term because it told the truth about what we were living through: A world where sexual violence was not just happening—but being enabled, excused, laughed off, and hidden. A world where survivors were doubted and disbelieved. A world where male violence was normalized, and women were expected to adapt.

And then, quietly, something shifted.

Some of the most visible organizations stopped using the term. They swapped in phrases that were more “palatable,” more “professional,” easier to digest in boardrooms, classrooms, and Congressional hearings. Rape culture was deemed too harsh. Too political. Too risky.

But riskier still was what came next.

Today, we are told that women may no longer:

Speak plainly about male violence.
Call a male rapist a male rapist.
Accurately state that a person is male or female.
Preserve sex-based boundaries in our shelters, our prisons, our support groups, or even in our private conversations.

We are told that women who name reality are hateful.
That truth is bigotry.
That facts are violence—but male violence is just identity.

What is that, if not a new and deeper version of rape culture?

**Because rape culture has always demanded that women be quiet. That we prioritize male comfort over female survival. That we bend, break, or disappear for the sake of male access and entitlement.**

And now it demands that we erase even our words.

A world that forbids women from saying “he raped me” is a world deeply committed to male supremacy. A world where male offenders are counted as women is a world that has made peace with our pain—as long as we don’t make too much noise about it.

But we remember.

We remember what it took to get this far.
We remember the names of our Sisters who didn’t make it.
We remember why we fought to create spaces just for us.
We remember why we risked everything to tell the truth.

And we still have that same courage.
That same fire.
That same unwavering clarity.

We are Survivors. And we will not be shamed into silence.

Not about the violence.
Not about the system.
And not about sex.

You cannot liberate women while demanding that we lie.
You cannot protect girls while insisting that male predators are “just like us.”
You cannot heal trauma while telling the truth-tellers to hush.

We are not confused.
We are not hateful.
We are not going away.

We are women.
We are Survivors.
And we still call it rape culture—because that’s exactly what it is.