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Women have recently shared many traumatic experiences on social media, but the burden they carry due to the actions of men shouldn’t be one they carry alone—they don’t owe us their stories and this is not a ‘women’s issue’.
As I’m sure you are, please listen to what they have to say thoroughly and thoughtfully. There can be a lot behind a hashtag.
Quick note: as the title and intro suggest, this post was written with men in mind. This is largely because I’m trying to channel my thoughts and feelings productively and, given the emotional/mental burden carried by those who’ve recently shared (or kept private, but been immersed in) a lot of experiences with sexual harassment and assault, it’d be ideal if I could do that without increasing the load. And because it’s about men.
Trigger-warning: this is not a nice post. It’s not nice subject matter. I’ve tried to leave specifics deliberately sparse, as the few experiences, I do touch on obviously aren’t truly mine to share,* but I hope that what I do include is at least slightly useful in helping guys understand the different worlds we inhabit. If you’re feeling particularly raw after #MeToo but want to read on for whatever reason, you can skip over the section in between the two dotted breaks.
A couple of days ago I wrote a quick Facebook post in response to the many shared experiences around #MeToo, and started it with ‘It’s obviously not about me’**.
The words in themselves weren’t much, they were simply meant as an acknowledgment that, at this particular time more than most, we likely didn’t need a whole lotta opinions and noise from men.
But the more I thought about them, the more they made me cringe. Because it is obviously about me. Because it is about us. And because, with the deafening silence that opposed the emotional outpouring of those around us, I think I was slightly off in my assumption about opinions from men. Instead: where was the f**king noise?
My experience with sexual assault against women.
I’m sure you have had some experience with sexual assault against women. I mean, it’s around you all the time. It’s impacted many of the women you deal with every day, and you’ve no doubt grown to understand it differently over time.
You might even have accidentally sexually assaulted someone yourself. Or done so purposefully. Or stood by others as they did so. (And if so, let’s discuss what that means to you and others if indeed you’re willing to discuss it). Whatever the case:
Throughout your life, you’ve at the very least experienced some form sexual assault around you.
This is something I think you should feel comfortable owning.
Sexual assault is not a women’s issue, it’s shared by all of us. Women are far and away more affected by it than us, but we also grow up in a society where sexual assault and violence is prevalent, and that fundamentally shapes our experience of the world. You have experience with sexual assault.
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I don’t know about you guys, but I had an early childhood that meant I was quite unaware of male violence against women. I was lucky enough to have a dad who was extraordinarily loving, and the majority of men I was surrounded by day-to-day seemed like ‘normal’, flawed people. But, as probability would have it, that didn’t last for too long.
My first encounter with violence against women was when I was just out of primary school, and it was committed by a man living across the road in our small town. In a school of around 40 kids, this man’s daughter was brave enough to share what was happening with some of the other girls. A couple of years younger than me, they then bore the full weight of that knowledge. And, of course, the weight and complexity of the consequences once they passed that information onto the principal.
His actions didn’t only rock his family’s and his daughter’s worlds, but they left an irreparable mark on the girls who I spent time with every day. For me, however, it mostly felt abstract. Details from the adult world were murky, and uncomfortable, and left unaddressed.
Later, in an early relationship, I was full of the nerves and excitement that come with exploring sex. It admittedly hit harder to find out that, while everything we were exploring was new, her first time had actually been without consent, and long before I came along. Awareness was shared by those around her at the time, but the lack of conversation or action meant the burden was largely hers alone.
I was out of my depth. There was a numbing sadness, a weird and knowingly-misplaced teenage jealousy around differences in sexual history, and a complete sense of uselessness.
In the years afterward, I found that sexual harassment and assault could touch women I was close to deeper still. Some revealed new and terrible secrets that they’d carried across decades, and I became very close to one particular situation that thankfully ended before it went ‘too far’. In reality, of course, it had already gone way beyond anything close to acceptable, and the mental and emotional repercussions can’t be ended in the same way.
All of these came with so much. Grief at the revelations. Hurt and betrayal at the inaction of previously infallible heroes. Rage and angst towards the perpetrators. And frustration and (very temporary) release when I was able to express how I felt directly.
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These things happened to the women around me. Both when I was very close to and engaged with the horror that was unfolding, and when I wasn’t. They’re experiences owned by the women who were subjected to them, but they’re also experiences that I’ve shared in, experiences that I’ve had over the course of my life, experiences that have impacted who I am and how I navigate the world.
I, and we, have experience with sexual assault against women.
Since then, nearly every woman I’ve had a relationship with or been close to has (after time and a lot of established trust) revealed that they have experienced at least some degree of sexual assault. But it wasn’t until I was in university, and in another really terrible conversation with another close friend, that the horror of the reality started to sink in:
Men everywhere commit sexual assault. All the time.
And women everywhere are extraordinarily affected by it. All the time.
If we’re ‘just’ talking about sexual harassment? It has to have been experienced by 100% of women. There’s no doubt in my mind. I would be amazed if anyone can genuinely look at the world and provide a strong argument to the contrary.
But beyond immeasurable harassment, the numbers are still ridiculously high. It’s estimated that just over 1 in 3 women have experienced physical or sexual assault globally. And 1 in 6 American women have been the victim of rape or attempted rape. And, of course, the numbers that you do see on these types of statistics are much higher than we’d like to believe, as the majority of assaults go unreported.
But I’m getting distracted. This post isn’t about well-documented numbers.
It’s about burden and feeling and risk. And it’s about you and me.
You. Men out there.
Men everywhere commit sexual assault. All the time.
And women everywhere are extraordinarily affected by it. All the time.
So, I’m genuinely curious: how does that make you feel? Is it something you can agree with? Is it something you can sit with? If you can’t make time for it now, and you’ve never dwelled on it meaningfully in the past, can you make the time in the near future?
If you can’t dwell on it, or you won’t dwell on it, can you at least accept that every day—but especially so with #MeToo ricocheting around the world—millions of women are dwelling on it? That those around you, whether they’ve been sexually assaulted or not, and whether it’s front of mind or a subtle hum in the back of their subconscious, take this with them almost everywhere they go? How does that make you feel?
I have so many questions…
But, amidst the blunt collective display of pain, courage, and vulnerability that came with #MeToo, my main question is: Why are you so quiet?
I, of course, don’t have any real answers as to why you’ve been so quiet—we’re each our own person and every one of us is different, after all—but I do have a guess.
Beforehand, however, I’ll give everyone the benefit of the doubt and assume that it’s not because you don’t care. (I mean, you’re 1,000+ words into… whatever this is, after all).
It’s just that you’ve decided that silence in this moment is best. And, whether you’ve voiced it or not, you’ve likely fallen on some accidentally-defensive and awkward-but-kinda-cozy line such as ‘It’s time we just shut the f**k up and listen to women. For once!’
(I mean, I just wrote it, and it kinda sounds good. Especially if you say it passionately and with an exclamation mark on another man’s post).
But are you really listening? It’s f**ing mayhem out there in #MeToo-land: the last minute hashtag-canary in our patriarchal-society-coal mine. And, whether or not this particular focus of our attention lasts a day or a year, this will keep going.
Women everywhere are extraordinarily affected by it. All the time. In posting #MeToo, they’re showing you the smallest sliver of the immense burden they carry with them, wherever they go. And you’re just… waiting until it’s done?
You are really listening, great. We’re now at my guess:
You’re staying silent because people and emotions are hard.
You’re staying silent because, despite the power and strength you’ve built in other areas of your life, you’re still scared of saying the wrong thing when it comes to feelings and vulnerability. Or just scared of feeling and vulnerability.
You’re staying silent because you’re intimidated by any notion of complicity, whether true or not, and you’re unwilling to take a risk.
Even if it’s just to openly recognize the pain of those you love. Even if it’s just to momentarily share a piece of the weight they carry and somehow make yourself available.
Kind of accurate? Completely off the mark? Both are OK. Let’s chat it out in ‘where to from here’.
Me. I’m right here with you.
Just between us: the horror of that early realization leaves me devastated whenever it comes back up. But, unlike many of the women affected by it, I get to create distance.
I get to move away from the reality of sexual assault in society and am able to do so for months or years a time. I get to forget the reality that my ‘always happy, smiling friend’ has deep anxiety every time she steps out into the street alone. And I get to ignore the negative role I may have played in other people’s personal narratives.
Because I can remember leaning on guilt for sex more than once in my earliest relationship. Which is not OK. And I know I’ve made women uncomfortable when trying to navigate hook-ups and sex, which is simultaneously how hook-ups and sex can often feel, and is in no way what they could or should be.
I don’t think I’ve ever actually sexually assaulted someone, but my memory around drinks and parties and teenage/early 20s sexual energy is honestly quite hazy, and I’m ultimately not the one to say. And I know I’ve stood around in full awareness of the sexual assault of others, and tried to do something. But at other times, I don’t. And either way, it’s so far from enough.
Furthermore, I’m sure I still make missteps all the time. Perhaps this whole article is a misstep? Posting this could cause someone to feel anger given their experiences with me, or make them feel small and unnoticed in a world that continues to miss their perspective. But I don’t think so, and I certainly hope that’s not the case.
People and emotions are hard. But we can get there.
On ‘leaves me devastated’, briefly: my skin has been tingly all day as I’ve revisited these stories. Writing this has left my hands involuntarily shaking on-and-off, and I came home from the cafe and lost my shit for a second, and cried in a deep way that I haven’t in a very long time.
NB: Men cry sometimes. And, to be honest, it felt f**king great.
And it’s fine. I’ll get to create distance soon.
So: where to from here?
Firstly: it’s OK to feel, guys.
And I mean that both in the sense of simply feeling the reality of sexual assault and the pain it causes, and in expressing it to others, if possible.
No, don’t go posting your hurt all over social media when other people are reliving deeper trauma. D’uh. Try to grapple with the burden that the many women in your lives carry every day, and grab your best friend and unpack it with him. Or sit down and write about it. Or whatever works for you.
Did you have a sense of the scale of sexual assault before #MeToo? If not, has anyone’s post made you second-guess the exact nature of the world we live in? And either way, really, how does this make you feel?
Growing up, I was completely naive to the sexual assault of women and girls around me. While my journey in discovering the realities will never compare to theirs, acknowledging and processing how it affects me does, at the very least, help me empathize with how it affects them.
Secondly: read the room, and figure out how you can empathetically demonstrate acknowledgment and support for those in need.
It honestly doesn’t have to be too much more. Yes, you’ll be able to take action. Yes, you can support organizations. Yes, you can donate and make systemic change.
But right now, in this exact moment? Just focus on being human.
As with many groups that perpetrate forms of violence and injustice in society, I don’t believe there is a perfect male response to the sexual harassment or assault of women. There’s no perfect frame that doesn’t risk a misstep, a pointed finger, the possibility of losing your #goodguy badge of honor or being dubbed some kind of faux-feminist who’s in it for the progressive brownie points.
How any of those could be important, I don’t know.
As long as you’re honestly trying to approach it from a position of having listened, of empathy and of care, take the fucking risk of simply getting engaged.
Prepare to get it wrong, take feedback humbly, learn from the experience, and do it that little bit better next time.
Because the thing is, as you might have gathered, I really don’t know shit. From awkward multi-step introduction to long-winded paragraphs and this overly self-aware line, I’m totally making it up as I go.
But this is an emotional and societal burden to be shared by all, so lets at least try to take on some of the work.
Thanks for reading all the way to the end. In lieu of knowing what else to do in the immediate term, I’ve created this closed Facebook group where men can hopefully discuss their relationship with sexual assault without adding to the emotional labor of women. I’ll obviously be there, and I encourage you to join.
You can, of course, also reach me on Twitter.
If you found the post in any way valuable, it’d be great if you could share it with other guys you know. If you’d like to see some quick ideas on other ways to be involved or find more information on sexual assault, I’ve gathered some basic links and resources together here.
Finally, for those who know me, feel free to reach out, at any time. #MeToo as a hashtag might disappear in a moment, but the issue isn’t going anywhere and I can be the guy you unpack things with.
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*As mentioned, I’ve tried to keep any reference to specific details and people as vague as possible, while hoping to effectively touch on the often parallel but very different experiences of men and women when it comes to sexual assault.
For those concerned: I felt close enough to a few individuals to comfortably seek their permission to share (which they readily gave), but didn’t chase permission for all moments referenced as I didn’t want to resurface old experiences for those I’m no longer in touch with. I’m really going with my gut here, and I hope that the lack of specificity and my personal point of view shields the individuals involved adequately. I am, of course, very open to feedback here.
**My original post on Facebook. It is clumsily written and in no way special. I show it here only to contextualize my motivation for writing this piece and the introduction itself:
‘It’s obviously not about me.
But it is about almost every woman I’ve ever spoken to about their experience with sexual harassment or assault. Across a huge variety of upbringings and across generations.
That said, I’m really not sure why I used ‘almost’ — a straight ‘every’ seems far more accurate. It maybe felt just a little too sobering to write it up front.
For everyone posting “me too”, thanks for sharing. And sorry for all the bullshit.’
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Originally published on Medium.
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Photo: Pixabay
Thanks so much for this Rohan!
Rohan, thanks for your guidance. Shaped by the suffering and confusion of a mother who grew up being sexually abused, the reality of male sexual entitlement entered my awareness early. Even with this profound experience as input, I still managed to partake in a culture that repeated the power mongering. Your article points to understanding and compassion, listening benevolently. For all of us these tools are waiting and powerful. Thank you again. peace, Bob
Thank you for this Rohan. I’ve been silent because I simply didn’t know what to say. But I think you’ve pretty well articulated all that I would like to say!
I posted this on facebook after I am just pointing out fallacies of logistics of law enforcement on a woman’s board. The battle of misogyny and free speech was the basic topic. I get tired of being in the wake of other people damaging actions. It seems I get caught defending myself when I have done nothing wrong. I know how easy it is to assault another person. it is just not worth the actions or presence to do so. I would rather have the discipline where I do not have to act violently. I have gone through a lot… Read more »