We Need to Talk About Sexual Harassment

A few days ago, my girlfriend finally took my advice to quit her job. I have always thought it was an obvious decision: She was getting consistent sexual harassment from a married employer.

It was only a few days ago, though, when the inappropriate touchings got out of hand, that she finally decided to quit.

There would be gossips, she said, and she was afraid she would be the one to receive the blame.

Also: He was an old friend she knew from her progressive rock band years.

She was just too sensitive, people would say. People would blame her for making things up. He probably never meant it — wasn’t he a good friend? She was just being dramatic, seeking for attention.

It’s what people always say, she told me. She almost believed it herself.

“Learn to chill out. Be a little more playful. It’s all good fun.”
Except when it isn’t.

That’s the thing about this kind of sexual harassment — it’s never objective. You can always excuse them.

I was the type of kid who would always choose female avatars in my video games. I was the type of unpopular kid who was always alone at recess because everyone else was playing soccer, and I hated soccer. I was the type of teenage boy who was so much more into fashion and dance than football and motorsports.

But, despite all that, I guess I had never really understood
what being a woman means.

Here’s the thing: There is no such thing as objectivity. At least not on a narrative level. The way we do things, the way we give meaning to our experiences — all these are but narrations we tell ourselves about ourselves. And the fact of the matter is that it is always those in power who construct these narratives.

Being a minority — not in number, but in narrative hierarchy— means that there will always be a part of our identity that is denied.

Earlier today, I came across one of the most powerful comic I’ve read in a long time. It will only take two minutes, so I suggest you go ahead and read it for yourself.

Done? Good. Now I will just say this:

All wars do this. All racist attacks have this texture of violence.

And this is precisely what sexual harassment does.

It might be a very dramatic, obvious action, such as rape. Or it might be small things, like staring at someone’s body with obvious sexual intent.

Most are somewhere in between, like uninvited physical touches. Or something verbal, like talking about a woman as a sex object right in her vicinity. Or something online, like the seemingly mandatory YouTube comment about a video host’s pair of breasts.

It can be anything. It varies from person to person, from culture to culture. Everyone constructs the meaning of their existence differently.

Even the “big” and “small”-ness of things is a false objectivity. Things have an exponentially traumatic effect when the assaulter is more trusted and familiar. Like a parent, or an old friend.

It took my girlfriend several disturbing occasions to finally speak up, because she did not want to ruin an old friendship. It was much easier to tell herself that he was only fooling around, and she was being too sensitive.

It’s a sad mistake to look for objectivity in cases of sexual harassment. Some people are okay with risky sex games with multiple partners. Some people have problems with shaking hands with the opposite sex.

You don’t have to agree with them. But wherever you are on the spectrum, there are boundaries you should respect.

It sounds like a terrible cliche, but it’s amazing how many people still don’t seem to get this. It’s amazing how many people still blame the victim for being a pussy, or an attention-seeking prude, or a slut that deserved it when the shit finally hits the fan.

It sounds like a cliche, but think about this: Every time you overstep that boundary, you tear apart and step all over that person’s construction of meaning about themselves.

Sometimes, the feeling lasts just for few ugly hours, and they are lucky enough to be able to talk to supportive loved ones, and they can speak up and get over it.

Sometimes it lasts a few horrific weeks, and they develop lifetime strong, classist, racist feelings against a certain group (e.g. the proverbial construction workers) to recover their self-worth. Terrible, but if that’s how they get over it, then that’s how they get over it.

Other times, when the degree is traumatic enough, they become so torn that they make breakfast for their rapists and stopped wanting to be beautiful for the rest of their lives.

I don’t want to underplay rape. But we should also not forget the seemingly more innocent, never-justifiable-in-court forms of sexual harassment that happens all around us, every day.

Think about this: Every time you tell a person that it’s her own fault of dressing too sexily, or that it’s her own fault of not being able to take a joke, you are chipping away at the person’s self-worth. You are telling her that, all this time, her belief in herself and the things that matter to her has been wrong, inferior.

Every time you say those things, you are helping to perpetuate a society in which it is okay to have unbalanced power structures, in which the majority has all the rights to infringe upon the minority’s self-worth and identity construction. And what are those if not fundamental rights of every person?

Assault is bad. But it’s not just about the assaulters. It’s also so much about the way we talk about these things.

So, the next time your friend tells you how a certain person or group makes her sexually uncomfortable, please stop trying to find out the objective facts of what exactly happened and judge accordingly. In fact, just stop whatever you’re doing and give her a hug. She probably needs it.

And the next time you make another person feel uncomfortable, even if she did not explicitly say it, perhaps you could think about apologizing. Explain to her that you didn’t mean it, even if — yes — for one second you might have meant it. There is always a chance to be a better person.

If you have felt these icky feelings yourself, speak up. Find someone you can trust. Comment on this article and maybe find some online support.

There is no objectivity for these things.
No court of law to decide what’s fair and what isn’t.

So let us all listen. And tell good stories. And give hugs.

It’s not just about being a good friend. It’s about creating that space in society where unsayable fears can be acknowledged.

You’ll never know how important that can be.