In the early seventies, I was a victim of sexual harassment not unlike Anita Hill’s. I lost my job after refusing the demands of a man who was not only well-regarded in the industry, but the recipient of numerous manager-of-the-year awards. I didn’t share my story with anyone, barely admitting it to myself. There was no name for these things then. I continued on best I could, largely unaware of the unending ramifications. More to the point, I didn’t fully realize there were ramifications until I was forced to face those times while writing my most recent novel.
In fact, it wasn’t until I’d reached the end of the second or third draft that I realized, had the courage to realize – thanks in part to #metoo – that what had precipitated the novel’s story line wasn’t an unusual experience teaching in South Carolina, but the fact that losing my job for refusing my boss’s advances was the reason I was in South Carolina at all.
All these years later, I could not tell you the color of the carpet in the man’s office, or the names of others involved, or the name of the bar around the corner, or in what hotel one particularly alarming conference was held, but I remember the smell of the man’s cologne, the flash of his rings on his right hand, his wedding ring on his left, his disarming smile.
To survive, I walked away, but I now know that what I also did was assume the blame and shoulder the shame. I’d been fired. I’d failed. I did delicately mention the possibility there was a problem to the head of HR, a woman, but that was folly. I was shown the door.
I can’t recall the immediate aftermath. I do know I had a two-year gap in my resume, since I was forced to leave without a positive recommendation. To what extent losing that job interfered with all future job prospects and altered subsequent events in terms of employment and income and relationships is impossible to calculate. The toll it took on my self-esteem, my sense of self, my value in any circumstance, not only the work place, can only be guessed at.
Cut to today. I had finished the novel. I was finished with all the degradation, all the digging into the past for details, all the parsing of subsequent choices. I was done with the pain of mis-assigned guilt. Or so I thought.
#Metoo revelations are infuriating, but at last the problem is out in the open. At last, progress will be made. Damage can’t be undone, but women my age can come to terms with events, and younger women will be free from the humiliations, dented reputations, and hits to earning potential and career satisfaction.
Or so we thought. Enter Christine Blasey Ford. It’s not over. It’s never over. For victims, it’s never over. Not only does the abuse continue and continue to be dismissed, every time there is a mention of this event or any of those all-too similar events in our newsfeeds, we relive our own experiences, those of our friends, and the aftermaths that pursue us, decade after decade.
And now many of the same men who presided over Anita Hill’s testimony, the same men who went on to say okay to Clarence Thomas, are now poised to say okay to Brett Kavanaugh. This has prompted me to revisit my novel. Have I given my character full expression? Is her pain, her denial, the rocky path forced upon her sufficiently palpable? Or am I still protecting myself? After all, I wasn’t fifteen. I was twenty-two. I must have ‘let’ these things happen. Apparently, I wasn’t strong enough. Smart enough. Savvy enough. After all, not all women are abused – thank goodness. But I was, so it must be my fault.
Intellectually, I know this is wrong. But viscerally, the questions go on. Our story never ends.
This is so well said. It is awful that the male species thinks it is ok. I don’t mind getting older because I have experienced slowly becoming invisible for the last 20 years ( I am 63 now). It is good to see younger women speaking out and standing up.
Thanks, Linda. It is good that younger women are increasingly empowered, but the culture of intimidation and the undermining women is so entrenched that even younger women will continue being subjected to harassment until the underlying attitudes are uprooted.
…”what I also did was assume the blame and shoulder the shame…” … those feelings become integrated into our very being, as you courageously point out, and they raise more questions about ourselves than can ever be answered. Thank you for your strength and courage in sharing *your* story, so others know they are not alone.
Thanks, Lisa. Your comments have me thinking more about the nature of ingrained feelings of inadequacy, even for those not subjected to harassment or abuse. When a society at large treats females as slightly-less-than male counterparts in ways we are so used to seeing we don’t notice, it’s difficult to see ourselves as equals. A recent twitter post — and I wish I’d noted who wrote it — reminded us that women bare their souls to be heard just a little bit.
Thank you , and thank you again , for this deep sharing of your personal pain and the experience of living the hurtful aftermath of such degrading abuse . Your all inclusive awareness of the cost to a victim of such trauma is so very helpful. Excellent words such as yours will enable us to grow stronger in the Sisterhood that wants to end the myths that exist regarding the actual abuse , and the journey of recovery . The repulsive sentiments that have been around for my entire life are no longer tolerated , and with continued strong voices and votes , on the way to illegal . No more : ” Boys will be boys” “Get over it , you are too sensitive ” ” What happens on business trips , stays on the business trip . ” ” If she did not want it , she should not have dressed that way .” etc.etc. My gratitude that you are so passionate for change .
You are so right, Sara. The recent response to Dr. Ford’s allegations says it all. She isn’t to be believed, but if she is right, then boys will be boys. Ha ha. I WISH that the sentiments you and I grew up with were no longer tolerated. Light has been shown on the situation, but women who anchor news programs are still required to wear short skirts and low necklines, young women frequently post videos of themselves walking down the street followed by catcalls and behavior even more aggressive, the charges against Roger Ailes and Harvey Weinstein are not all decades old. And on and on we go. Anita Hill was nearly 30 years ago, and Dr. Ford is being treated just as badly if not worse, since the FBI isn’t even allowed to investigate for this round.
I’m so sorry you had to live through this. And then to have the experience affect your self-esteem and self-worth? It’s heartbreaking.
Why does history keep repeating itself?
It is so sad that “our story never ends.”
Sad, indeed. In the big picture, my story is small. Then again, no story is small when it reflects a society lacking the power, or will, to change.
I watched all of Christine’s testimony yesterday (and part of Brett’s). It’s very clear to me that she’s telling the truth and Brett, in a disgusting display of entitled self-pity and over-the-top anger about an imagined conspiracy against him, has the character of a hyena (not to besmirch hyenas). Now women are all re-examing our histories (once again) to see where we made accommodations in our relationships with men that were not in our best interest, or even detrimental to our well-being. Not all of us have been the victim of a sexual assault (I was groped on a crowded NYC subway once and, as a result, learned to position myself carefully and keep an eye out for those darting arms), but we’ve all lived in a culture that has asked us to support the man so he can do his thing. This can work only if he supports us while we do our thing. I am 58 and, from the earliest age, this was the subliminal message I got, starting with my parents. Even now, my husband happily sits down to the meals I cook but rarely takes the initiative to plan and cook them himself. He will do so if I ask but I ALWAYS have to ask, thus I frequently find myself beset with this simmering resentment that is like wearing a hair shirt – distracting and not good for my mental and physical health. Virginia Wolfe famously said that women need a room of their own. Christine Blasey Ford needed two front doors. I guess I need two kitchens.
Ha! Perhaps we all need two kitchens. The underlying current for all of the conversations, from household chores to subway cars to gang rapes at parties, is that women are expected — and are programmed — to cover for men. We are so, so careful to keep them from getting angry, to keep them from feeling hurt; we are responsible for protecting them from shame or discomfort. I have been flooded with these recollections while working on my novel, and a very bright light was shed on this last week by the diametrically opposed natures of the Ford and Kavanaugh hearings. So, yes, this simmering anger over all the time lost. Thanks for your comments, Mary. Much appreciated.