An Open Letter to Jerry Jones
Dear Mr. Jones,
I’m not here to bash you. I understand the free enterprise system and your right to do with your business as you please. You must also understand my right to do with my fanship as I please.
I cannot support the Dallas Cowboys as long as Greg Hardy remains a member of the team.
I stayed a fan while players with other transgressions remained on the team.
I stayed through the losing seasons.
I stayed through questionable managerial decisions.
Domestic violence is different.
Domestic violence with absolutely no expression of remorse is extremely different.
I know you don’t care about the pittance in revenue you receive from my annual merchandise purchases.
I know you don’t care that I’ve been a fan since I was 12 and I’m 57 now.
I care about domestic violence, however.
Note: The post discusses rape in a very graphic manner. If you have PTSD or are squeamish about this subject, I recommend you do not read it.
I am that girl – Jane Doe – of Steubenville, OH; you know, the one who should have known better than to drink that much? At least that’s what some people say, in 2013, in our “blame the victim” culture. I was sure that’s what they’d say in 1977, my freshman year of college, which is one reason I never reported my rapist.
On a cold January night, I made the short walk from campus with a couple of other students to a frat party in town. Frat parties encourage nothing but drinking and reckless behavior, with males getting “all you can drink” for a few bucks and females getting “all you can drink” for nothing. It never occurred to me that the goal was not only to get as many females there as possible but to make sure they were inebriated. Continue reading