As reality television has taken a hold on worldwide audiences, we have seen the rise of nearly every kind of show you could imagine. From feats of strength to incredible tests of willpower, unfamiliar conditions to intolerable housemates, we put reality television stars through inconceivable things. But should they have to endure sexual assault? That’s the question sweeping the globe as news of the potential rape of a cast member on the Brazilian version of the television show “Big Brother” comes to light. The contestant in question, 23-year-old Monique Amin, was shown on live videotape being subjected to what appeared to be rape by her housemate, 30-year-old Daniel Echaniz. The video shows the woman passed out after a long night of drinking, and Echaniz getting into bed with her. The next seven minutes show movement underneath the blanket evocative of sexual activity — but Amin barely stirs. She does not react when Echaniz gets into bed, nor when he leaves, and any movement during the act appears to be a direct result of Echaniz’s movement. The next morning, Amin was questioned about the incident in the confessional set up for contestants, and appeared to know almost nothing about what had happened. She expressed confusion about the occurrence, as well distress at the fact that she had gotten so intoxicated she couldn’t remember anything. She is quoted by The Guardian as saying “We kissed, I remember one kiss, he said there were two…Sex?…No. Only if he was a real scumbag and did it while I was sleeping.” Seven minutes for two kisses? Seems unlikely. When Amin approached Echaniz about the incident, he informed her that they had “only kissed” and advised her to “let it go.” Even more startling, the petition site Change.org reports that Amin has not been allowed access to the tapes of the event, and told very little about what actually happened.

Though Echaniz was found guilty of “inappropriate behavior” following a police investigation and removed from the show, there are still many who call for some accountability on the part of Globo Network, the company that produces the show. How is it possible that the cameras could capture a relatively prolonged sexual assault, and nothing was done about it? No staff member was sent in to check that the act was consensual? Yes, reality television is a bizarre world, in which many contestants, including those on Big Brother Brasil, are encouraged to do outrageous things. “The company has often been criticized for ‘baiting’ its contestants with alcohol and thrusting them into situations seemingly designed to cause conflict” says The Telegraph. However, there must be a line drawn. When something looks like sexual assault, it must be assumed that it is sexual assault rather than the opposite. In a house full of cameras, how was an assault allowed to go on unimpeded? It would seem to be an implied value of civilized society to prevent our fellow man from being raped for our entertainment. So why, then, did television ratings become more important than the safety of a young woman, if only for a brief period of time?

Currently, Amin denies that she was raped and does not wish to press charges. She was medically examined following the incident, but details of the examination have not been made public. Police chief Ricardo Nunes stated that his department had collected the underwear worn by Amin and Echaniz, and would assess the state of the sheets for semen traces as well as evaluate the video footage based on the testimonies of the contestants. But is this enough? Reactive investigation would not have been necessary if somebody from Globo Network had prevented this shocking incident from happening in the first place. While reality television is often criticized for dehumanizing contestants to allow them to better serve as entertainment, this incident takes that to unimaginable lengths. While it may not be true that the producers were aware of the assault and allowed it to happen, or even staged it for publicity purposes, there should’ve been far more precautionary measures to prevent it from happening in the first place. Women, especially women whose lives are broadcast to thousands of viewers, should not have to fear rape as the result of excessive drinking. It is time for Globo Network producers to question their actions as well as the continued existence of such television shows, and perhaps time for us as viewers to question exactly what we can do to stop the runaway train of reality television.

This is not going to be an exhaustive post on the Dominique Strauss-Kahn case. There are a number of things to say about the charges and the reactions to them from various national and international quarters—not to mention the fact that the case has sparked some awareness about the sexual assault risks faced by hotel staff as a class. There are some good pieces out there on these aspects of the case and more, but here I want to talk about something that may seem minor—but really isn’t.

Unless you’ve been avoiding all forms of news media for the past month, you know that the Strauss Kahn case broke a mere two days before reports of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s marital infidelity surfaced in the Los Angeles Times. Both have been big stories here in the U.S., and as you’ve probably noticed (again, unless you’ve been living under a rock since early May) reporters, pundits, and all manner of media commentators have often spoken of them in the same breath. Usually it’s in an offhand way, as a convenient transition between the two stories or simply a reminder that two “sex scandals” are making headlines these days. And there have been some think pieces too (see here for the New York Times’s contribution and here for that of the L.A. Times) , that link them under a “men who take advantage” framework. But these remarks, casual and deliberate, do the work of erasing a crucial fact about the two stories: one of them is not like the other. In a really, really important sense.

Bear with me. I know you be may thinking, “This does not seem like that big of a deal. What’s important is that Strauss-Kahn’s alleged victim get justice, and that if he’s guilty, Strauss Kahn’s enormous power and privilege doesn’t prevent that justice.” And you’d be right. That is what matters most. (You may also be thinking that the Schwarzenegger story raises troubling questions about power and inequality in ostensibly consensual sexual relationships, as Gregory Rodriguez does in one of the pieces linked above. You’d be right there too.  That discussion is outside the scope of this post, but I welcome  comments.) But how we talk about the case matters, too—and it tells us a lot about how sexual assault is perceived. Here’s what I’m saying: these two stories are profoundly different, and when we join them together under the sign of the salacious, we say (whether we mean to or not) that rape is a scandal rather than a (violent) crime. Now, I know it’s not semantically incorrect to call the Strauss-Kahn case a “scandal.” One meaning of the word, after all, is “damage to reputation; rumour or general comment inurious to reputation.” and that’s certainly true here: Strauss-Kahn’s reputation has been irrevocably damaged, and there has cetainly been plenty of “general comment” accomplishing that.

But notice what the term scandal directs our attention toward: the accused’s reputation or honor. The story of the scandal is the story of a fall from grace, or a “rise” into infamy. When we talk about a scandal, that’s what we’re talking about. That’s why the term can also mean “malicious gossip.” (These definitions are from the Oxford English Dictionary, by the way.) In other words, a scandal is “dirt” on someone or something—it’s sensational, perhaps even salacious. We use it frequently to describe stories that arouse what the Supreme Court likes to call our “prurient interest.” There can even be a kind of lewd or perverse pleasure in observing the scandal. So that’s why it’s a term w so often used to describe infidelity, illicit liaisons, and births that we have (thankfully) stopped calling “illegitimate.” And you know what? Rape doesn’t belong in this category. A case of sexual assault is not a dirty story, it’s an act of violence and hostility. It’s not about sexual mores, any more than aggravated assault is an offense against politeness. We wouldn’t group the latter with failure to return a dinner invitation or other etiquette violations, and we shouldn’t subsume sexual assault under the same rubric as the Schwarzenegger/Shriver divorce.

And this matters, I believe, because being accurate about what rape is matters. When we think of it as a scandal, as gossip—in a culture where “gossip” is big business, revolving mostly around celebrity excesses and exploits—we minimize it. We excuse those who don’t take it seriously. We make victim-blaming questions (What was she wearing? How much did she drink? Why did she go there alone?) seem relevant. It’s not that we need to be correct for the sake of etymology, or for the sake of “correctness” itself. It’s that the terms we use both reveal and reinforce common perceptions. The way we talk about sexual assault tells us a lot about what we think it is and how seriously we take it. And the references I hear to the Strauss-Kahn case that place it alongside stories like Schwarzenegger’s remind me that too often we still minimize it, just as too often we doubt and disparage survivors.

I’m a bit pressed for time this week, but I want to highlight a couple of international items. And one is good news!

The first dedicated centers for rape victims recently opened at three hospitals in Istanbul, Turkey. The centers, sponsored by Yeni Yuzyil University, are designed to provide counseling and legal advice to victims, and to facilitate the proper collection of forensic evidence. According to the founder of the project, the latter was a key impetus, as victims are often referred by police to state hospitals for examinations, but doctors there lack the forensic knowledge to properly collect evidence. The centers are designed to enhance the criminal justice process as well as provide crisis counseling and support to victims. Unfortunately, it’s not entirely clear how the latter will be accomplished (will the centers be staffed with mental health workers trained in issues relating to sexual assault?), but the founder, Professor Ersi Kalfoglu, is quoted in the country’s major English-language newspaper as saying that helping victims report and speak about their experiences, despite the stigma and resulting shame around sexual assault, is a key aim of the centers. Frustratingly, there wasn’t much to be found about  this news online, and neither the BBC, Reuters, or the New York Times seem to have given it a mention. Granted, this may not be a major story, but in the United States we tend to hear primarily or exclusively about the Middle East as a site of oppression and gender-based violence. The injustices we hear about so frequently are real, and receiving deserved attention from human rights groups, but they’re certainly not the whole truth of the region. These rape crisis centers are a reminder that folks are working to tackle some of the same problems faced in the West when it comes to sexual assault (under-reporting, social stigma, and lack of coordinated victim support), and are creating innovations to address them.

The second item is something you may have already heard about, but deserves to gain some momentum in news coverage. Earlier this summer the New York Times ran a story about the surge in sexual assaults in heavily damaged areas of Haiti, and in the makeshift housing and aid camps occupied by earthquake survivors. The fact that the massive social and structural upheavals of natural disasters (not to mention wars) have traditionally occasioned an increase in violence of all kinds, including sexual violence, is not new. Sadly, the victimization of women made vulnerable by sudden lack — of housing, family, and the basic infrastructures many of us take for granted — is not exactly a surprise. But it’s imperative that this knowledge be incorporated into immediate disaster relief and more sustained rebuilding efforts. I hope this is something that receives more coverage in the coming months. Glamour magazine ran a decent (albeit very short, and it’s not online) piece in its most recent issue, and it highlighted the work that local women are doing to combat the problem. You can check out an interview with the director of that group, KOFAVIV, here. The work that these women are doing is inspiring, but they deserve more attention and assistance from the international community.