Hmm. I guess I can see you guys' point. It's ironic that his post immediately followed mine about how the barometer in a rape culture is not consent, but the perceived virtue of the victim. If you will just allow me one small indulgence...
Dude. Rape happens at all times of day and night. Grandmothers are raped in their own houses at two o'clock in the afternoon; wives are raped first thing in the morning; subordinates are raped by their bosses right after everyone's gone home on a Friday; nice churchgoing girls who haven't yet reached puberty are raped at 9:00 a.m. on Sundays by their youth pastor in the Fellowship Hall.
I suppose that rape might be slightly more frequent on weekends as it is typically a time of social engagement, and rapists are probably out and about rather than plunking around at their data entry jobs or whatever, but let me assure you: there's no such thing as Rape Hour.
I have not been raped but have been sexually assaulted. Once at 7:30 a.m., after I pulled an all-nighter to write papers, when I was wandering around a European city looking for cool things to photograph; once at 3:30 p.m., when I was giving a schoolmate a ride home; and once at 6:00 p.m., by my high school boyfriend, which I didn't know was assault at the time but in retrospect definitely was. All on weekdays. Plus maybe once on a Saturday morning at 10 a.m. or so after an outrageous party the night before, but I'm actually not sure what happened there as I was asleep. So, as a woman, who has to be worried about the possibility of rape and sexual assault (though I can think of about a thousand ways to better spend my time and mental energy, up to and including counting the blades of grass on my lawn, slowly crafting a pillow out of belly-button lint, and watching every Sylvester Stallone movie ever made), I can tell you with absolute, positive certainty: there is no raping hour. There is no, "Oh, shit! It's 12:30, and I just detected the whiff of rape in the air! Better book it home!" There is no, "I can sense the rapey clouds gather on the horizon..." There is no, "Crap, it's midnight, so I just turned into a magical talking pumpkin that involuntarily screams 'Stick it in me!' in a language that only random penises can hear." No. Just, no.
(Just out of curiosity, and I know you can't answer, but do you think all consensual sex happens at night, too? Ha, I feel sorry for you bro.)
And, you know what? Mine is a purely anecdotal case, but considering that I have spent my entire life as a night owl and frequently prowl the streets, say, on the hunt for cookies at 3:00 a.m., it is my experience that 100% of sexual assault happens during daylight hours and 0% happens at night. And I even occasionally spend those late night hours
in bars, gasp, call the Morality Police. Some of those bars are even frequented by
fraternity brothers (you must really be getting the vapors now; I'll grab a chaise lounge for ya). And I may even sometimes adorn myself in my fabulously slutty hooker boots with four-inch spike heels for the occasion. And yet.
I have never been raped, never been sexually assaulted, never been grabbed, never been so much as looked at in a creepy, perv-o way while nipping at the hooch, in public, during the hours from 10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m.
Not once.
And, you know what? Even if I had been, it wouldn't matter. Because as a fully grown, cognizant human being? If I want to be out at 1:00 a.m., in a bar, drinking until I can't see straight, wearing a top so low-cut that I risk a nip slip, and (consensually) grinding against every random stranger I see?
I have every right in the world to do so.
I have just as much right as you to be out at 1:00 a.m. I have just as much right as you to get drunk. I have just as much right as you to wear as much or as little clothing as I feel like, barring illegalities. And I have just as much right not to be raped while conducting my own personal business, whether that's fetching the mail, running a triathlon, or getting hammered in the most po-dunk, rathole bar I can find.