Tag Archives: sexual harassment

The time it was my fault

Posted by Amy in Women and tagged with ,

ETA: Warning: Mention of unwanted sexual contact

I was a teenager with a typical schoolgirl crush on a man in a position of spiritual authority.  At the time, I didn’t mind his affection; I didn’t think it meant anything.  He was married and much older—that it signified anything more was just a silly fantasy I was too embarrassed to admit to having.

He paid attention to me, of course, and I thought that I liked it.  I had never felt pretty or special.  Even if it was just kindness, I thought made me womanly and feminine that I could get a man to look at me.  He never touched me or tried to kiss me, but he made comments to me.  About the way I looked.  About how smart I was.  About how I was different from other girls my age.

We’d been alone together, the circumstances of which I won’t detail here.  Because men and women—and boys and girls, and adult men and adolescent girls—were not supposed to be alone with each other, he told me not to tell anyone.  I didn’t breathe a word.  I just basked for several months in the glow of this strange not-quite-relationship.

Until the day he allowed me to feel his erection.

I could feel it pressing slightly against my hip.  At first, I wasn’t sure what it was, until he made small, purposeful movements that were just enough for me to understand.  I told myself at the time it wasn’t on purpose.  It was in the context of what should have been a perfectly chaste, fatherly hug.  I told myself I had imagined it, or that it was something else.  It was accidental.

Only it wasn’t.

When I reflected on the situation and the circumstances, I knew it had been intentional.  He had wanted me to know that was how he felt around me.  It was no mere accident, despite the fact that it happened in full view of anyone who had cared to notice.  I panicked; that wasn’t at all part of my girlish fantasy.  I wanted hearts and flowers and hand-holding and maybe a few innocent stolen kisses; I wasn’t ready for real, grown-up sex.   I felt so incredibly violated.

Except that I knew it was my fault.  On the outside, I was the picture-perfect Christian girl.  I never dressed in ways that would attract guys.  I didn’t flirt.  I blushed modestly any time someone mentioned s-e-x.  A couple of the boys at school had dubbed me “The Puritan.”  Even when I went to college, my friends called me the good girl.

But I knew the truth.  I thought about sex sometimes, imagining what it would really feel like.  I examined my body and wondered if men would one day find me beautiful.   I read books with overt sensuality.  I fantasized about kissing and touching and making love, even though I was far away from wanting it to be real.  I gave myself pleasure.

I decided I had no other option.  I took the blame squarely on my own shoulders.  It was a sign of how dirty and impure I was that I made a grown man hard.  Somehow, everything I had kept hidden from the other girls must have been visible to this man and led him to the conclusion that it was what I really wanted.  My secret thoughts must have bled through that and encouraged an adult man to take notice of sixteen-year-old me.

I was terrified that someone else would find out.  After all, he had told me we shouldn’t be alone.  Wasn’t it all those times we had talked without anyone else to chaperone at fault?  If I told anyone how upset I was, surely they would agree that I had been the guilty party.

Never mind that he was an adult and I was a particularly naive girl.  Or that he had authority in the church.  Or that he was married.  Or that he had admitted to me that he was what the church called a “porn addict.”

The shame still belonged to me for not stopping him.

I am convinced now that I was likely not the only girl he did this to, but at the time, I told no one because I believed I was the only one.  I vaguely knew his wife, and she didn’t like me.  I am certain that, like many within the church, she would have agreed that I had done something wrong and would have done whatever she needed to in making sure the church didn’t do anything to her husband.

But underneath, I am positive that she knew what kind of man he was.

So I never shared what had happened.  I made sure we were never alone again, though, and I stayed away from him after that.  I suppose people around us noticed the change, but no one else ever said anything about it.

I’m sure there are people reading this who think, “That wasn’t all that big a deal.  How could that have made you feel so violated?  It’s not like he raped you” and others who think, “Damn straight it was your fault—you were obviously leading him on and encouraging his lust.”  Neither of those things is true.  It was a big deal, and I did nothing to make a married adult man think it was okay to make advances on an underage girl.

This week, I have spoken with other women who have had similar experiences:  The woman who was ogled by a man in spiritual authority and whose church inexplicably took his part by telling her that her “boobs were too obvious.”  The woman whose pastor violated her by putting his hands on her and making his arousal clear to her, then blaming her when she told someone.  The woman blamed for the intimate partner violence she experienced because it was a “natural consequence” of her sin.  The many underage young women whose photographs have been used without their permission on the website “Is This Modest” (which I will not link to because of the violating nature of the web site).

This is what a destructive modesty culture does to us.

I don’t share this story so that I can unload guilt or make anyone feel sorry for me.  I no longer feel shame about what happened.  I know that my adolescent crush—as well as my curiosity and experimentation with my sexuality—were all absolutely normal, but that his behavior was inexcusable.  Decent adults know better than to take advantage of children.  I hope that anyone else who has ever been in my place knows that too.  I hope that the girls in those photographs know that they do not need to be ashamed of their bodies, nor do they need to hide them in order to conform to some modesty standard that someone has told them will prevent them from being violated.

We are not merely bodies that exist for the gratification of men.

When Is a Victim Not a Victim?

Posted by Amy in Sexuality, Women and tagged with ,

During my college years, I learned two things that cannot be reconciled: women are victims, but not when they are actually being victimized.

Let me tell a couple of stories here. First, when I was in my second year of college, there was a new student on campus.  He quickly gained a reputation for harassing female students.  He repeatedly got physical (in non-sexual ways) with many of my friends.  I had mostly managed to avoid him, until returning from winter break.  As I made my way to one of the campus buildings to retrieve my mail, he ran at me and dragged me to the ground.  He didn’t do anything else, and I told him exactly what I thought of him (I’ve never been one to keep my mouth shut).  I walked away, not wanting to continue to interact with him.  He chased after me, telling me that he deserved for me to hit him and that he would give me a free shot at his face.  I declined.  It took all year, but after enough of us complained, some action was attempted by the college.  He chose to leave, and any discipline against him was rendered null.  But it took a group of seven of us, all saying the same things, to get anywhere.  Apparently, being taken out walking on campus, being choked, and being jabbed in the hand with a knife didn’t count as inappropriate enough.

The year after that, I worked as a TA in the science lab.  My co-TA and I taught the lab and graded the reports.  We created the practical part of the exams.  It was (at least for me) a fun job, for the most part.  That is, with one exception.  I’ll call him Mervin (mostly because it sounds similar to “pervert,” which is what I’d rather call him).  Anyway, at first, he seemed harmless.  He flirted a little, I blew him off.  I was TA, after all, and I already had a boyfriend.  But it got ugly.  He started to turn in his lab reports with things like “slut,” “bitch,” and “whore” written at the top.  He was outright rude to me in class, in front of the other students.  My co-TA thought this was cute.  She said that he obviously had a crush on me and that I should be flattered by his attention.  She convinced me that I didn’t need to talk to our boss about it, that it was harmless.  Because that’s how guys show they like us, right?

At the same time, I learned that “real” victimization was in the realm of dating relationships.  If I had sex, it was a sign that my boyfriend was taking advantage of me.  An adult with whom I volunteered (not a college professor) told me that having sex would ruin the rest of the relationship.  Men take advantage of their girlfriends and then don’t respect them afterward.

So, having consensual sex with someone I loved meant I was a victim.  Being pulled to the ground or called vicious names, not so much.

And that, right there, shaped my barely-adult self.  I didn’t have sex with my boyfriend (who is now my husband), but I felt guilty every time we expressed ourselves intimately.  And I didn’t stand up for myself when I was being harassed.

What a horrible and backwards way to view the world.

We need to teach our daughters that this is not healthy.  We need to make sure that they have a genuine understanding of love, sex, and relationships and a clear distinction between that and victimization.  Otherwise, what we end up with are young women filled with shame and guilt about sex, but who think that real men show their love with violence and degradation; that they can’t help it, so we are responsible for keeping them in line.

We can’t do that to our daughters.

Lead Me On

Posted by Amy in Sexual Morality, Sexuality, Women and tagged with , ,

Our sexual ethics need to begin with respect, and that respect needs to begin with viewing others as living, breathing beings, not objects.

I’ve posted about this before (and you can read it here and here), but I think this is a subject worth revisiting: How men treat women based on standards of modesty.  I’m taking another shot at it because a) I can; and b) I apparently didn’t make myself clear the first two times.

Message for boys and men: I do not care how she is dressed, you have NO EXCUSE WHATSOEVER for not treating a girl or woman with respect.  The old, “If you’re going to dress like that, expect men to treat you a certain way” doesn’t cut it. (And yes, this is what is being taught in many churches as “sex and relationships.”  Trust me, I’ve been there and back.)

I don’t care whether she is a “working girl” or just working in your office.  It makes no difference.  You may feel that she is dressed inappropriately, “leading,” or just downright slutty, but your opinion doesn’t matter.  If you decide that the way she’s dressed is an invitation to grope her, tell her dirty jokes, or suggest things you might do together in bed, you are in dangerous waters, my friend.  Whatever she is doing “wrong” (which may boil down to your own sorry excuses anyway), you had better leave her alone.

For one thing, that’s called sexual harassment and it’s—get this—against the law when it is ongoing or severe, creating a hostile environment.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s move on to the concept of being dressed “like that.”  What does that mean?  I’ve asked this before, and I’ve never gotten a straight answer.  I can see how wearing fishnets and a leather miniskirt might be provocative, of course.  But I’ve heard all sorts of ideas about what is or is not acceptably modest on girls and women.  Heck, I’ve been accused of being immodest myself, which ought to make anyone who knows me laugh themselves silly.

So someone, please, tell me what I should have my daughter avoid when she reaches her teen years.  What clothes do I need to ixnay in the store?  Where’s the line between pretty and trashy?  I always thought this was obvious, but I’m hearing differently from some of the boys and men that I know.  And the funny thing is, since my husband and I share an opinion about what we think is okay, then he is clearly not to be trusted either.  So whose advice do I need?

Well, guess what?  I’m putting my foot down.  I’m saying right here and now that I will allow my daughter to dress the way I believe is appropriate.  And if any boy harasses her, she has my permission to punch him in the teeth.  (Those of you who know my daughter personally will have no trouble imagining her doing this.  I’ve always maintained that she’s going to be the one to screen her brother’s potential dates, not the other way around.  In fact, I think I’m going to send her as a chaperone.)

Beyond that, I’m going to demand that we stop telling our sons that it’s wrong to ogle girls, but that if they dress like sluts, then we understand that they couldn’t help themselves.  You know what?  Shut up about that already.  We get it.  Some girls and women don’t know how to be modest.  Fine.  We’ll work on that.  And yeah, we get it that your eyes and your penis (yes, I said it, so sue me) are directly connected.  (You keep reminding us of this, how could we forget?)  However, there are no other circumstances where we tell people it’s okay to sin if you were “provoked” into it.  It’s damn well NOT okay and we all know it, even if it has to do with sex.  Stop blaming women for being whores and start teaching boys how to act like gentlemen.