planned; 11 percent were partially planned; and only 16 percent were unplanned. 27
Rape has the lowest conviction rate for any violent crime.
According to Horos, in 1972 only 133 of every 1, 000 men
tried for rape were convicted. 28 Medea and Thompson report
that juries will acquit nine times out of ten. 29 The reason for
this is obvious: the woman is presumed to have provoked the
rape and she is held responsible for it. In particular, when the
woman knows the rapist, 50 percent of the time, there is virtually no possibility of a conviction.
Who are the victims of rape? Women— of all classes, races,
from all walks of life, of all ages. Most rapes are intraracial—
that is, white men rape white women and black men rape
black women. The youngest rape victim on record is a two-
week-old female infant. 30 The oldest rape victim on record is
a ninety-three-year-old woman. 31 This is the testimony of a
woman who was raped late in life.
Rape is not an academic question with the present writer, for
not long ago (June 4, 1971) she, then in her late fifties, joined
the growing army of rape victims. It was a case of forcing a window and entering, forcible assault with the huge bruising hands of the rapist tight around her neck, and was accompanied by
burglary.
All these circumstances convinced the police immediately that
a crime had been committed. (It helps to be elderly and no
longer sexually attractive, too. ) . . .
It was 2 or 3 days before the shock wore off and the full impact of the experience hit her. She became very ill, and now, nearly 3 years later, she has not recovered. The police told her
she was lucky not to have been murdered. But that remains an
unanswered question in her mind. Simple murder would not have
involved the horror, the insulting violation of personhood, the
degradation, the devastating affront to the dignity, and the sensation of bodily filth that time has not washed off. Nor would it have led to years of startled awakenings from sound sleep, the
cold sweats at noises in the dark, the palpitations of the heart
at the sound of a deep male voice, the horribly repeated image
of two large muscular hands approaching her throat, the rumbling voice that promised to kill her if she struggled or tried to scream, the unbearable vision of being found on the floor of her
own home, lying half naked and dead with her legs ridiculously
spread.
What was lucky about it was that it happened nearer the end
of her life than the beginning. What torture it must be to
women who have to live with such memories for fifty years! This
older woman’s heart goes out to them. 32
This was the testimony of the great Elizabeth Gould Davis,
author of
inflicted gunshot wound. She had cancer, and she planned her
death with great dignity, but I believe that it was the rape, not
the cancer, that distressed her unto death.
Now, I could read you testimony after testimony, tell you
story after story— after all, in 1974 there were 607, 310 such
stories to tell— but I don’t think I have to prove to you that
