#MeToo
Please forgive me if I'm late with this post, but I felt a strong pull to add my own voice to the #MeToo movement in good faith and it's too important a topic for me to rush into posting anything. I'll preface this by stating from the outset that I really do want to hear your (constructive) feedback in the comments. Yes, even those of you to whom I've personally sent the link to my blog and shamelessly, but hopefully humbly, requested your readership. I think that having healthy discussion around this topic can only benefit everyone, so please talk to me about it when you're done reading!
I never thought I'd be writing this post. I didn't feel like I had a strong voice, opinion, or grasp on the nuances of the movement to provide valid perspective; but here I am. It's because of some very small moments in my life recently that I realized: even if I'm not a celebrity who has been sexually harassed or abused in some of the most monstrous ways, as a woman I have an obligation to be informed, to be involved, and to be vocal about my own experience.
What follows is a series of vignettes in which I attempt to describe my experience as a woman with feminism, sexuality, harassment, and discrimination. I want to reiterate that these are my own personal experiences not meant to reflect on anyone else, not meant to diminish or water down or belittle anyone else's experiences. This is purely how I have been made to feel growing up as a woman in this country in this culture in the context where we're being given this moment to make ourselves heard thanks to the strong and courageous women who have shed a light on the toxic behaviors they've had to endure.
First, a collection of minor transgressions. My intention with these is to shine more light on the kinds of behavior women are still dealing with in and out of the workplace daily.
March 2018: After being told by the establishment's manager that his meal would regretfully take longer than anticipated, my dinner companion replied "Oh that's no trouble at all, at least I have good company", to which the manager responded: "Yes, I can see that!" and left the table.
Now, I don't mind flattery. In fact, I shamelessly really dig it. I'm sure that's what was intended - harmless flattery. However, I find it problematic that it was implied that my capacity to be "good company" was somehow physically visible to this person. There were no outward indicators of the things I've accomplished in my life: I wasn't toting adoptable animals from the shelter at which I volunteer on weekends, I didn't have a slide-show about my experiences in third world countries scrolling on my phone, or my university degree on the table. Nor do I think by glancing at me anyone could see the life I've lead, the paths I've been down, the ways that I relate to the people around me. I highly doubt that this person could have looked at me and seen how I carry myself in a conversation or that I will drop everything for a friend in need. Is witty repartee, compassion, or empathy a visible characteristic? I think not. This person defined my ability to be a pleasant companion purely based on my physical attributes. I did not allow this observation to affect the rest of my night, I didn't treat the waitstaff any differently. I did, however, point it out as problematic to my friend, who I hope considers it in the future.
March 2018: During a discussion with a friend about my recent enjoyment of feminist poetry, I found myself expressing to him that these books wouldn't interest him because they were strongly feminist, and continued on to say I've been trying to cultivate more feminist energy in my life lately.
The problem here is me: where do I get off assuming that because he's male he can't understand or appreciate poetry about the innermost workings of femininity and heartbreak? And why did I feel the need to justify my recent interest in feminist literature? As if I thought it would be in some way off-putting to him that I would value such a thing. After all, he's an intelligent and respectful person, so it's unfair to him to include the caveat. I was wrong to assume that he would scoff at something that interests me based on his gender alone, and it's something that requires reflection on my interactions with men in the past to be able to put my best foot forward in the future, to not fall into the same unproductive behavior. Years ago my view of feminism was skewed. I had an acquaintance once tell me (mostly jokingly) that every time I opened my mouth I set feminism back several years. I wore that with pride: I was "not like the other girls", I was "one of the guys" and I hadn't realized just how toxic that attitude could become. It's taking a conscious effort to unravel that particular ball of yarn and it's something I'm actively working on. Clearly I still have some work to do.
January 2018: I was moving a rather cumbersome mini-fridge from one countertop to another across the kitchen at work. I had it securely in my hands, I was lifting with my legs, and I was in the process of tipping it up onto the counter when a coworker saw me and exclaimed "Whoa there, let me help you with that!" and grabbed one end of the fridge to guide it onto the counter for me.
The fact that he offered to help me is not the problem. Along the lines of similarly intentioned behavior, I also don't mind when men hold the door open for me. The offer of help was merely intended to be courteous and I understand that. However, the phrasing of the offer as a command and the fact that he felt the need to complete the task for me is problematic. I fully believe if I were any other male employee in this office, that interaction would have gone differently. I don't have problems being treated differently from men - I have problems being treated as less capable than men. In smaller ways this behavior has been something I've confronted in the workplace often. Another example: a contractor who had a habit of speaking down to me while we coordinated ongoing renovations of our office space. He stopped doing that when he had cause to watch me lift 195 lbs off the floor. I am proud of myself for the ability to do that because I've worked hard to be this strong. I am proud of myself for being able to change his mind about me. I am troubled that I had to prove myself physically before he would treat me the same as anyone else.
With those interactions in mind as the environment in which women exist every day, I'd like to pause here before my #MeToo story as a warning to anyone who may be affected by it. A "trigger warning" if you want to call it that - I don't believe in providing all the gory details, this isn't meant for shock value, and it's not as intense a story as others have told - but in the spirit of the movement this is where I will share an experience I don't believe I've ever talked about with anyone before.
August 2006: There was a boy on staff at the summer camp where I worked who had piercing blue eyes and an athletic build and who, to my utter surprise, was interested in me. At such an awkward age, I was new to the arts of flirting and unsure how to navigate the torrid waters of the teenage male sex drive. I knew I was less experienced than many of my fellow ladies, but had been privy to enough conversations around sex that I understood the appeal, but was not ready to dip my toes into the water. It was with him that I first experienced the intimacy of sharing a bed with someone of the opposite sex and in the beginning I felt cozy and safe. Then, as I started feeling drowsy and wanted to sleep, he started asking me to do things. A dialogue ensued - him asking for me to become sexual with him, and my nervous and quiet refusal. Eventually this discussion culminated in words I can still hear being whispered into my ear to this day: "Come on, just touch it", which I still refused. After a moment or two when I thought he'd let it go, he grabbed my wrist in his strong hands and forced my arm awkwardly behind my back and down inside the waistband of his gym shorts. I jerked my hand back and again refused his advances and we finally lapsed into a tense silence during which we must have gotten some amount of sleep because the rest of the night has disappeared into the dark depths of those memories you don't relive often.
I never told him it was wrong, I never tortured myself over it, I was never overly scarred by the experience, but it remains as a part of my experience - the futility of the word "no" when I was vulnerable and completely ill-equipped to handle the situation at hand. I harbor no malice towards him to this day; I honestly believe that neither of us recognized the complexities of what was happening at the time. He wound up breaking up with me shortly before the end of the summer, and I knew it was largely due to my inexperience and refusal to explore that side of a relationship with him, and that became a trend in many of my interactions with men in the following years. I'm not here to say that he was wrong for doing what he did or that I was wrong for not physically removing myself from the situation. However, I believe it's indicative of the toxicity that has crept into relationships between men and women over the ages that has become tragically expected.
To wrap up, I want to include an interaction I had earlier this month:
A friend expressed a desire to hear if and how I experienced discrimination based on my gender in the workplace and was genuinely curious if it really is something I experience daily. It sparked a discussion about some of the above interactions, but wound up going deeper as well. I feel many men have heard things like this or had this kind of conversation before, but sometimes it seems to have gone in one ear and out the other because it sounds hyperbolic and overly dramatic. It's difficult for many of them to put themselves in our position when we, as women, admit that deep down (and at times not so far below the surface) there is an evolutionarily passed-down wariness of men.
It is largely untaught, but hereditary and primal that a woman knows: if a man larger and more aggressive than her chooses to do so, based on whatever motivation enters his mind, he is capable of overpowering her and violating her. The only thing standing between any woman and nonconsensual sexual conduct is societal pressure.
He asked me if that really does lurk in the back of my mind every day, and while I'm fortunate that it's not an active consideration, it's still there - nebulous, like toxic fumes in the room every time I'm alone with someone I don't know well enough yet to trust implicitly. I am incredibly grateful that I haven't had the kind of experiences that would bring that fear to the forefront more often or the trauma that prevents it from being able to be quelled. Some truly wonderful women in my life have not been so fortunate, and it is tragic that we're learning these women are not in the minority.
Stories like mine and worse ones, like the victims of the celebrities who have recently been revealed, are not uncommon. Some are hurting more deeply than others. Some are still silent. We have an opportunity right now though: to make our voices heard, to express how we feel, and to start a dialogue where we can all talk openly about what it means to have a consensual interaction. We can take our pain and dissect it to distill the root of these problematic interactions and hope to prevent those who will come after us from ever having to experience it.
I'll close with another plea to discuss, here or elsewhere, how this movement makes you feel and, if you feel comfortable, to share your own experiences. The only way out is through, and the more we talk about it constructively the closer we are to fixing the problem.
Be well, and take care of yourselves! I love you all.