Is Rape Truly A Fate Worse Than Death?

On the evening of November 7, 1974, a small woman was attacked in a dark room at her London home. Her attacker was a lot bigger than her, he was also desperate, having minutes before bludgeoned another woman to death. As he gripped her throat intending to choke the life out of her, she grabbed that vital part of a man’s anatomy that always hurts when so gripped, and squeezed hard.

Later, Countess Lucan was able to escape from the clutches of her murderous estranged husband, and tell her tale. The woman he had battered to death with a lead pipe was the children’s nanny Sandra Rivett, but Miss Rivett had not been his intended victim; that had been the Countess.

The following day on the other side of the Atlantic, a young woman found herself in an even less enviable situation, because had he succeeded, her attacker would probably have raped and tortured her to death before disposing of her body in a ditch or woodland somewhere. The 18 year old Carol DaRonch was duped by serial killer Ted Bundy who was posing as a police officer. When she realised he was not what he said he was, she fought like a tigress, and managed to escape from his clutches, throwing herself out of the car.

Like non-sexual predators, rapists tend to target those who are less formidable than themselves, be they smaller women, drunk women, women who have been incapacitated by the administration of some noxious substance...Although undoubtedly adrenalin gave them strength, both Countess Lucan and Carol DaRonch were lucky to be able to overpower in the first case, and flee from in the second, a physically more powerful assailant.

This begs the question, why apparently do so many victims of date rape and more generally acquaintance rape throw in the towel without so much as scratching their assailants’ faces? There are broadly speaking two answers to this uncomfortable question. The first is that rape is not the fate worse than death we are constantly being led to believe it is. The other is that this epidemic, this “rape culture” of Western society, exists only in the tiny minds of demented feminists and their dupes.

The shrill insistence that the majority of rapes are committed “by someone the victim knows” and that the vast majority go unreported is supported only by anecdotal evidence of the most unreliable, indeed the most untrustworthy, kind. This is all the more evident when one considers the hub of Western rape culture is purportedly the American campus, whose female denizens are by definition the most intelligent, the most educated, and often the most privileged of women.

Alas, neither formidable intellect nor the most comprehensive, expensive education guarantees the individual concerned will exhibit a shred of common sense, or that when groups of such individuals congregate that somehow they will reach a reasonable consensus. Indeed, the exact opposite is guaranteed; their dogmatism and at times sheer idiocy reinforces each others’ delusions – the well-documented phenomenon of the madness of crowds.

The conclusions we must draw from this are that rape is not the vastly under-reported crime the rad-fems would have us believe it is, and that contrary to their facile assertions, the conviction rate for rape is not unrealistically low, rather this is largely a reflection of the propensity of a certain type of (mostly young) woman to cry rape for all manner of reasons, as I have documented elsewhere.