I glommed easily onto the #metoo hashtag. In the rush of seeing powerful men tumble, I felt gleeful empowerment. Sexual abuse – by a teenaged boy when I was 5; at a ward camp out, by a ward member I babysat for at 12; and by a friend’s father at a sleepover when I was 13 — shaped my adult life. You do not want to tap me in the middle of the night – the slug response is automatic. So why am I suddenly hesitant with the French women who say #BalanceTonPorc – or “out your pig”? Am I willing to do that? Is it right to do that? Bring down lives? Livelihoods? Families? In a public way? I demure – “it’s complex.”
Yet how empowered am I if the taboo is still tough enough I can’t squeak out a name, 45-50 years later? How do I deconstruct that? Am I afraid of being a “bad” woman, for standing up and shaming a man? Or is this about my own shame? Is this generational – not just for abusers, but for survivors? Am I willing to stand up to a man for $1, like Taylor Swift did, and say – “Hey, you can’t do that!” and let the chips fall where they may?
One thing’s for certain, my abusers never worried about any chips falling.
This is about power, and the power you have to give up to make space for another’s power. Recently I got really, really mad when I heard two really, really good male friends, and by that I mean good people, say it was hard sorting through sexual accusations because there was so much “he said, she said” and now it seemed the “she said” was getting more traction. It sounded like now that .00…001% of all men who have ever forced their will on others were being called out, we needed to say, “poor men,” because someone might be unfairly blamed.
Later, when we were alone, my girlfriend said, “When they said that, I didn’t want to say anything, but when I was a teenager, a boy forced . . . . I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
As long as men–who have not been sexually harassed or abused, and have never sexually harassed or abused anyone–use themselves as truth, and default to the Man Team in any skirmish, their wives, mothers, daughters, and female friends remain vulnerable. That is what has kept women silent. That costs men too.
I get it — as much as I love the power of saying #timesup, it is also unnerving driving down the proverbial road with all the cut off male heads stuck on stakes. Revolutions are so messy. And violent. I’m trying to think this through like everyone else. To pay attention and weigh into the mess, acknowledging the gaps and inequities, rather than acting like it is just natural for men to hold most of the power and women to exaggerate.
Chips fall so haphazardly. Power doesn’t.
Shari – very powerful. A thought as I read: Is there a difference between teenage boys and men in this conversation (messy complex conversation indeed). How much of the conversation surrounding the #metoo movement / sexual harassment has connective tissue to larger equality issues for women? I understand why some men feel defensive about the issue – they feel attacked. I find that generally, however – most men also do not see their own complicity in gender inequality. I was out with two couple friends over the weekend – the men were commenting on “hot” celebrity women (sparked by a game of “heads up”) – it turned into rating the women. But I became really uncomfortable with it all (my husband – cleverly kept quiet). These are “good” men – but they fail to see how women are unequal or why women feel this way. They also failed to see how their seemingly harmless treatment of women (hot celebrity game) contributes to a culture where women are marginalized and objectified.
Well said, Shari Crall. You are an amazing writer!
It's a tough call to make, let alone the thinking and emotional fall-out of thinking about the whole situation/s that lead to making the call.
I for one am glad that the #metoo and other public awareness campaigns are unsettling people. I figure if it makes good men baffled – even if they say ignorant things – it's at least opening the conversation, maybe cracking some room for light to get in. If it makes perpetrators nervous, they should be.
There is power in the truth, unnamed or not.
Shari – you have given so much thought to this post and expressed it so well. I, too, have been baffled by the ins and outs. And I have found myself falling prey to some of the same defensive thoughts. I'm so glad you gave me a differing viewpoint. Wish I had something profound to say in return.
I appreciate Nancy's comment about the "connective tissue" tying this mammoth issue to other equality issues.
Yes — it is the same kind of moment I had when I sat in diversity training and did the unpacking your invisible backpack exercise ( https://nationalseedproject.org/white-privilege-unpacking-the-invisible-knapsack) — I work in a very diverse environment and so the room was very diverse. I think I had previously thought more about race in terms of class differences and that those in the same social class as myself had similar experiences to me. Well all of these folks were in my same social class, with identical educations and with the same jobs — I was floored when I saw my colleagues of color had very different answers than those of us who were white. Ouch!
Yes — uncomfortable is not the end of all things. Being uncomfortable pushes us forward, don't you think? I think my reluctance to name names publicly at this point, of private people, is those people have no chance/way to respond. In some cases I have spoken their names to them, and to those who matter, and since they are not public figures, that has been enough for me.
Thanks Kellie for responding. I agree with you!