I think of the rape jokes that my male friends make and how I always force myself to laugh at them because I never want to be the ‘uncool’ girl. I think about how I’ve labelled other girls as ‘sluts’ because of what they wear and how they act. Why is it that men can act inappropriately and we all just write them off as jerks, while, if a women acts inappropriately, she is breaking some greater societal rule? A drunk man touches your bum in a club: he’s an asshole and you move on. A woman wears a short skirt, is drunk and gets raped: she was asking for it.

“Rape myths promote false accounts of what rape is. They give men unspoken permission to rape and help them rationalise and evade responsibility for sexually violent behaviour. For example, one of the guys in the study described rape as a sex act and not a crime that is about power: ‘But power, I don’t really, it’s not really a big issue, it’s not really something that fits here. Rape is just purely arousal.’

“When someone describes rape as only being about sex, it becomes a potentially pleasurable act rather than a crime of violence and oppression. Because of this, the aspect of rape which emphasises the need to conquer and control the victim is ignored.

“Many men defend rape by describing it as a sex act, and sex is something in which the woman can potentially participate. An act of violence, however, reduces the victim to an object onto which power and control is exerted. So by making rape about sex, and not about violence and control, the boundaries of victim participation are blurred.”

As my twenty minutes draw to a close, my supervisor jumps up.

“And now for the questions.” My stomach drops.

I saw the most severe lecturer in our department, Shane, taking notes throughout my presentation. This is not a good sign.

The first couple of questions are not too hard, I answer them easily enough. Then Shane raises his hand. This is a man who proudly boasts that he once made an entire honours class cry. He also regularly fails the most intelligent students in our class. Once, when I was two minutes late for class, he said that: “Timeliness is next to cleanliness and we all know what cleanliness is next to.” This tells you all you need to know about him: he’s a man who degrades already sub-par proverbs.

“I want to ask you about your title, ‘Any man can rape’. Do you not feel this is a bit misleading?”

I am scared. Perhaps it was misleading. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps my whole year was a mistake and I never should have done this research. Then I shake my head. Stop that, I scold myself. I worked hard and I am passionate about this subject and my results are worthwhile and real. They deserve to be recognised. I push up my sleeves and step forward. I will not let this man undermine this work. My work.

“Well, a lecturer once told me I should have a catchy title,” I say as I turn around and pretend to clear my throat.

He was the lecturer who said this to me. Everyone starts sniggering and I hear someone gasp as they catch my sarcasm.

Before I can finish my response, he goes on, “How would you feel if I came out with a title that said ‘All women should be raped’?”

“Well, that would make me want to attend your presentation and see what it’s all about. And here you are, so …” I shrug, as if that about sums up the whole situation.

Before I can go on with my explanation, the whole room erupts in cheers. Someone even whistles. I am startled by their enthusiasm.

When another student states her support in her question, I add that it was never my intention to target men but rather that my title was a quotation from one of my male participants, in case anyone couldn’t see the quotation marks in my title or didn’t hear the explanation of it in my speech. I also didn’t bother to go into the semantic differences between the words ‘can’ and ‘should’, because really, none of us are ten years old.

When the questions end, I am euphoric. People run up to me. My hands are full of papers and notes, so my supervisor grabs my shoulder and shakes it.

“Congratulations!” he repeats over and over again. He smiles and his little faces crinkles with pride. I introduce Prof Hardy to my parents and they chat about my work. I can see my mom is overwhelmed with emotion and on the verge of crying. Oom Theunis grabs me in a stiff, uncomfortable hug.

“That was amazing!” Amala says.

“Dude, oh my gosh, do you even realise what you just did?” Malini says.

I laugh.

“When you pushed up your sleeves, I knew that man was in trouble,” my mom says.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I say.

My stepdad’s chest is puffed up like some kind of bird. He’s talking to my supervisor about my future, my career and my ‘potential’.

“Where did Shane go?” I ask my mom.

“He ran out as soon as it was over, I think he was so ashamed.” My mom looks worried about him. She’s obviously never met the man.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Nick says to me later, when I sit in front of him. I don’t blame him. People usually don’t.

As we sit around and chat, everyone talks about my presentation. I am officially an intellectual bad-ass. I get a message from Ashley.

“Friend, sorry I had to run, I was late. But as I left, one of your classmates also ran out and he was saying, ‘presentation of the year!’ I concur. You are simply amazing and I am blown away. Wow.”