The rape joke is that you were 19 years old.
The rape joke is that he was your boyfriend.
The rape joke it wore a goatee. A goatee.
Imagine the rape joke looking in the mirror, perfectly reflecting back itself, and grooming itself to look more like a rape joke. “Ahhhh,” it thinks. “Yes. A goatee.”
I remember when this was first published online at The Awl. I have a very small, tightly curated Twitter feed (I’m one of those people who actually reads every tweet) yet dozens of links showed up on the first day, dozens more on the second. I resisted – I really don’t need to read a piece complaining about rape jokes, any more than I need to read a post opposing murder, racism, or kicking puppies – but eventually I read the poem. It was a surprise, because it accomplished more than I’d thought it could.
By now I’m sure everyone with an internet connection has read it. Maybe you’ve heard about the ensuing controversy: the New Yorker review of the collection in which it appears, taking a rather dismissive tone towards anything that might work on Twitter. The kickback on The Toast. The writer who felt censored when his essay was removed from HTMLGiant. The story on The Wire about the real-life rape joke, the guy convicted of attempted rape on the day this poem was published, who explained his actions: “My prank was supposed to be to scare her by grabbing her from behind and taking her down to the ground….her eyes made me think that she had a good sense of humor and she was a good person to play the prank on.” Ha. Ha.
That’s pretty much why rape jokes aren’t funny, why the rape joke is itself a rape. It’s a way of dismissing in word what can’t be abused in act.
Lockwood’s poem made it more concrete by turning the rape joke into a character and occasionally conflating it with the victim via self-referential text that can’t decide if it’s prose or poem, changes POV and voice every once in a while, and is as confused as a 19-year-old who’s raped and told it wasn’t really rape because she was drunk. Or as any woman told she had it coming because she wore a tight skirt, or was out late at night, or she went on a date, because it’s more convenient for the attacker, our preconceptions and prejudices, and sometimes the entire community, that way. The poem reflects the absurdity of that.
Lockwood has a sense of humor that’s as serious as a heart attack. “There’s something inherently funny about being suddenly pretty well-known for writing a poem called ‘Rape Joke,'” she says. “If I had known that that was going to happen, I would have put it in the poem as the punchline.” I think she still should. Claudia Rankine updated the list of names in Citizen with the second printing. Lyn Hejinian updated “My Life” to include more of her life. Art, life and death continue beyond publication dates. So does rape.