I was seven. This is my harassment story.
It was a big day for seven-year-old Baily - I was being tested for the Gifted Program at school. I’ll never forget feeling so proud that someone thought I was really smart, smart enough to be tested for special, advanced classes. I had always been a precocious child, learning how to read early and easily charming adults with my conversational skills. This was going to be a great day for me because a grown-up would verify that yes, I was indeed smart.
The adult who was responsible for administering the test made small talk with me as he got ready to begin. But instead of asking about which subjects I liked best in school, or what kinds of cartoons I watched on Saturday mornings, he instead opted to make this comment:
“You know, when you’re a little bit older, the boys are gonna be lined around the block to date you. Hope your dad has a shotgun to fend them off.”
I was seven. Being tested for Gifted.
In that single moment, I went from feeling so proud of my budding intellect and excited to show the world that I was ready for harder classes, to feeling unexplainably icky and uncomfortable, no longer wanting to be in that room. This adult man, who, I have to guess was in his mid to late thirties at the time, chose to comment on the way a seven-year-old girl looked rather than engage her in a conversation about her intelligence (the whole point of the two of us being in that room together in the first place.)
Thankfully his role in the story ends there, and besides that off-putting, inappropriate comment nothing else took place (thank god.) I don’t really remember anything else about the test, but I do know that I didn’t make the cut for the Gifted Program that day. Years later I’d be tested once more and pass with flying colors, but not that day.
That day I learned that what I looked like was more important than what I knew. That my face was more valuable of an asset than my brain.
That day in 1992 was a turning point in my development as a person, but even more so as a woman. Long before I even realized that his “compliment” had any effect on me, it single-handedly changed the way I presented myself to the world. In my late twenties while having a deep conversation with a friend about why I’ve always shunned compliments on my appearance, or opted to run for Student Government instead of trying to become Homecoming Queen, or never really got into makeup or fashion, and have steadily kept an extra 5–10lbs of unnecessary weight hanging around, it dawned on me - I have always wanted people to think that I was smart over pretty.
Pretty is objective. It’s in the eye of the beholder. Its definition is ambiguous.
Intelligence is harder to argue. It’s quantifiable. It’s demonstrable.
I’m now thirty-three, and although at this point I fully recognize that you can be both pretty and intelligent, I still struggle with allowing myself to embrace both. I’m still uncomfortable with physical compliments. I would still rather someone mention something I’ve created or accomplished over something I had nothing to do with. There’s still part of me that worries that if I get into great physical shape and start enhancing my looks that people (men) will stop noticing the work I produce first. That they’ll lump me in with the “pretty faces” they’ve written off as just that and nothing more.
My story is on the low end of the horrific spectrum when it comes to sexual harassment stories coming to light more and more these days. I genuinely believe that this man meant to compliment a cute little girl and nothing more. But therein lies the lesson that men need to take away from all of these stories - your words matter.
Every time a man speaks to a woman, whether she’s seven or thirty-three, she hears you. She’s listening. Whether she realizes it or not, what you say is weaseling its way into her psyche, providing the building blocks for what she knows to be true about herself and how she’s perceived by others (men in particular.)
This goes for words of support as well. When men speak up against other men who have wronged women in some way, we hear you. We’re listening. Every man that stands up and says, “No, this isn’t okay.” is one more person who adds to the stack of affirmation and confidence rather than the stack of self-doubt and shame.
And great news - you don’t have to wait until something messed up happens to a woman to speak out. You can start today by complimenting your female co-worker’s involvement on a big project at work, or having her back in a meeting when she gets talked over or ignored by using the “amplification strategy”.
This isn’t a call for false praise or unnecessary compliments - this is about choosing your words carefully and remembering that women are more than just men’s daughters, moms, wives, or sisters. We are people, just like you, and exist independent of the role we play in your life.
We hear you. We’re listening.
Baily Hancock Glick is a Multi-Passionate entrepreneur who answers to the call of any of the following: Collaboration Consultant, the Career Experiment Founder, Speaker/Workshop Leader, and most recently, Co-Founder of inex women.
