My Factory of Extravagant Marvels

... I go read Foucault to cheer me up :-)

This week I read a blog post about rape. It was not the first time, it probably won't be the last. It is part of being a feminist. I have to inform myself about what I want to fight against. Sexual violence is certainly one of the hardest realities women have to face; it is something I must contribute to eradicating. Thus I must know about it. This week's episode of story-about-rape-induced-depression was particularly hard, though. Usually, I can recover after a few hours, but I have been emotionally down ever since I made myself read that full article. I couldn't figure out exactly why, until a few minutes ago. And the realization of the reason was very chilling for me. I was blaming that woman. Without realizing, I was trying to figure out, this whole time, why she chose to put herself in those situations where she was raped. I was, plain and simple, victim-blaming. Something in my mind blocked my usual solidarity to victims of rape, something related to my judgement o