This is how it happens
Like many people, I’ve spent the past week reading terrible stories. Stories of harassment, and abuse, and humiliation, from women I’ve worked with and women I’ve never met. I’ve also spent the week reading a couple dozen variations on the theme of “How could this have happened?” from men.
On Friday, I got an email, forwarded to me by one of my business partners, from a professional organization of which I’m a member, seeking input on pending federal regulations from “influential member firms and others.” For reasons passing understanding, the names of the people to whom the invitation was directed were listed in the body of the email. Thirteen names, thirteen men.
When my partner noted the exclusion of women from the list, he was told by a board member that it was our fault, actually, because that’s that’s the contact information the organization had for our firms; apparently the five minutes it would have taken to add one or two women to the list just wasn’t a good use of his time.
How could this have happened?
On Thursday in Chicago, a conference “for anyone who wants to reshape the future of politics in America” included a panel about political data. Eight panelists. Seven men.
How could this have happened?
On Wednesday in DC, an executive vice president at a major labor union was suspended following a pattern of dating subordinates going back years. Former union staffers who spoke to Bloomberg noted his behavior was so well known that the EVP’s subordinates worried that any recognition they received would be attributed to what kind of relationship they might have with the boss.
How could this have happened?
When women’s voices are excluded, when we’re omitted from panels and other public events, when our accomplishments are called into question, the message is clear: This is not our space. We do not have power here. Our voices will not be heard.
And if that’s true, how could this not have happened?
There is and always has been a direct line from the exclusion and disempowerment of women to sexual violence and abuse, and if you’re complicit in the former then you’re complicit in the latter.
That’s how this happens.
It happens when your call for expert opinions generates a list of thirteen men, and you either don’t notice or can’t be bothered to address it.
It happens when you tell yourself you’ve covered your bases because one woman was included on your panel (I’m sure she didn’t feel like a token!).
It happens when powerful men are allowed to create a culture where no woman can succeed without her integrity being called into question.
This is why women stay silent. This is why abusers are allowed to offend for years without repercussion. This is why, no matter how many of us say #metoo, nothing ever changes, even in progressive spaces.
It’s not enough to tell women that you hear them. You can save your solidarity. Change will start when women get our share of what men have always believed is theirs: the title, the microphone, the equity, the credit. Until then, it’s all lip service.
Stephanie Grasmick is a Democratic digital strategist and a partner at Rising Tide Interactive
