Why I’m grateful for Trump
This week, I did something unusual. Something outside of my comfort zone that was long overdue to happen. I stepped up to subtle sexual harassment at a professional event.
The situation was ordinary: I was having a conversation with a man who tapped my shoulder as he made a point. What followed after was less ordinary, but still frequent in mixed-gender tech networking environments.
His hand slid down, making light but uninterrupted contact with my back, pausing for the tiniest moment, but just enough to be awkward and noticeable, at my bra strap, and finally breaking contact just below my waist.
The whole act probably took less than a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to me. In this eternity, I did the following things:
- silently cringed on the inside
- kept my facial expression frozen and neutral, trying to ignore what was happening (an automatic reaction developed over years of dealing with similar acts)
- recalled many other identical instances — familiar, frequent, normalized to the point where I won’t even let them throw me off
- questioned myself on whether what was happening was, in fact, inappropriate (after all, it was an after-hours mixer)
- concluded that it was definitely inappropriate
- contemplated calling him out on it
- instinctively moved away and crossed my arms, assuming a subtle defense stance
- pondered excusing myself from the conversation, pretending that nothing happened (the usual)
- cringed again
- thought of Donald Trump
At this point, Donald made me take action. Yes, you heard me right — I credit the Republican presidential nominee.
You see, Donald touched the abscess that’s been ripening, festering, quietly pulsating underneath America’s inflamed skin for a long time. Then, in his usual unceremonious manner, he burst it right open. With his distasteful remarks and despicable actions, he brought the issue of casual sexual harassment out of private offices and into the public eye. Outrage followed. What used to be hushed and normalized became unacceptable.
Thousands of women around the country recognized themselves in the women he’d harassed and degraded. What’s more, the highly publicized criticism made these women see, perhaps for the first time in their lives, that society — or at least the rational parts of it — thought that his actions were wrong. Not normal — wrong!
This very public expose of Trump, a man who thought he was invincible and, therefore, could get away with anything, all of a sudden made it hard to get away with harassment for many other men around the country. For men like the one who just fondled my back.
I took a sip of wine, mustered my courage, inhaled, and said:
“You know, I am not sure why you thought it was ok to slide your hand down my back in that manner, but I have to tell you — it was not ok. It was an unwelcome gesture that made me feel uncomfortable. You took the liberty to do something that was not allowed, and it will not be tolerated. I would like you to think of what made you do it, and to refrain from doing it again to other women in the future.”
He looked stunned for a moment. Then, he apologized. Later, he thanked me for calling him out.
I want to believe that he will act differently in the future. I also want to believe that more women will be inspired to stand up to unwelcome advances.
You see, these things take place so casually and so often that most women decide not to make a fuss about them. Given that they’re subtle, many women think that they’re normal or not worth the confrontation. As a result, the silence perpetuates the actions.
And that’s why I want to thank Donald. Dear Mr. Trump, thank you for doing so many outrageously inappropriate things that the curse of silence finally gave in and broke down.
