BraceLand

This news, about Lara Logan’s rape in Egypt on Friday, stole my sleep last night.  As I tossed, my mind flipped between thinking of the horror she must have felt pressed into that crowd, recalling bits of stories my female friends have told me about their experiences on the streets of Cairo, feeling guilty for holding all Egyptian men accountable.  All the cat calls on the street we’ve ever endured that, if only there were a mob to provide anonymity, could have become something else.

In my sleepless daze, I found this 2005 story about Logan from the New York Times.  It’s sexism seems quaint now, in the way it highlights the inane risks our sexuality presents, not imagining they could be worse than having someone think you only got the interview because you’re pretty.

I’ve never been a feminist, at least not consciously.  But there was something about seeing a woman who is smart and sexual and a mom and a wife and strong and reporting from war zones have that taken from her so easily, in the act of doing the work that she loved, that made me realize how fragile it all is.  It can just. be. taken.  And all because of my gender.