You Too?

This past weekend a respected figure on the Texas literary scene was accused by a thirty-something-year-old woman of having harassed her when she was fourteen, seventeen years ago. This is a man who is noted not only as a writer and poet but also as an editor and publisher. Over the years he has helped many new and seasoned writers. (No, I do not know him personally—only by reputation.) He is a married man with children. Apparently when accused of harassment he wrote a letter of apology (all before the Me, Too) movement.

All this came out when the accuser went public recently, causing him to state that his relationship to her, as a teacher, was strictly platonic. He also resigned from the state’s most prestigious association of authors to save embarrassment—and I suppose to save the association from a painful choice. As far as I know, no one has ever been booted out (yes, I am a member). Since then he has been censured and punished by other organizations. His once-flourishing career is in shreds.

All this sickened and saddened me, and led my thoughts to the Me, Too movement again. I am quite frankly uncertain about it. It’s long past time to out such men as Harvey Weinstein, Roy Moore, Eric Schneiderman, and others for whom sexually predatory acts are an ongoing way of life. They are completely selfish, self-centered men who delight in domination. Probably Bill Cosby fits in that group, though it saddens me, and maybe our sitting president.

But the lives of a lot of less well-known men have been destroyed, often based on accusations that are decades old. And that’s where it gets dicey for me. This woman has been harboring all her insecurities for seventeen years, insecurities born in a fourteen-year-old’s mind (if you’ve raised a teen-ager, you’ll understand the peril there) and no doubt nurtured and encouraged to grow over those years. What it sounds like to me is that her teacher was fascinated by her and saw talent; in trying to encourage her he overstepped the bounds not only of the teacher-student relationship but of general propriety. But I sincerely doubt his actions were prurient or even lustful. Misguided, yes, by all means.

Someone wrote yesterday in response to my blog on calling the police. She was read about a police officer who pulled a gun on a man he thought was stealing Necco wafers (whatever they are). The writer asked if a bit of candy is worth taking a life over. My question today is where we draw the line between sexually predatory behavior and sexual harassment severe enough to ruin a man. When does it become a crime instead of an annoyance? Many women handle wandering hands and other annoyances tactfully and quietly, without public attention and, as far as I know, without great damage to the psyches.

The problem seems to be one of degree, and we need a definition of sexual harassment, a checklist if you will. Even with such a list, I am not convinced of the validity of all these “recovered memories.” Time can distort. And there’s the bandwagon effect—once a man is accused, other women come out of the woodwork to join in the accusations.

Maybe I’m an anomaly. I once described to a younger friend a couple of incidents and relationships that made me uncomfortable, and she said, “You’ve been harassed, and you just don’t know it.” Well, okay, if I don’t know it, it didn’t damage me that much, and I went on with my life without making a mountain out of a molehill. The classic example to me of women who exaggerated small, meaningless gestures into a brouhaha were those who were incensed because former President George H. W. Bush patted them on the behind. I’m quite sure he wasn’t copping a feel—he thought of it as a friendly, almost affectionate gesture. Yes, it’s a hangover from an era well put behind us. But for Lord’s sake, he’s an old man in a wheelchair who has served his country well. Cut him some slack. I am a bit weary of women on their high horse, though as I try to emphasize I support genuine victims 150%. Where do we draw the line between abuse and foolishness?

It’s another conundrum.

Army desertion, sexual harassment—and thank goodness for family.

One of my mom’s favorite sayings was, “Never judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.” She even had it framed, written in what was supposed to be a Native American style decorated with, yeah, moccasins, feathers, etc. It strikes me as particularly appropriate today when a military court has handed down a sentence for Bowe Bergdahl.

The sitting (or screaming) president was quick to yell that anything short of life in prison was a disgrace to our military. Yep, he who got five deferments for bone spurs that kept him out of Vietnam but apparently not off the golf course.

I am not condoning what Bergdahl did, nor am I even buying that defense story about his deprived childhood. If everyone in this country who had a deprived childhood acted out, we would be in a sorry mess. But I will suggest that none of us know how we’d behave when our life is in danger—unless we’ve been there. Personally, I’m occasionally given to panic attacks that cause me to act irrationally, and I doubt I’d have ever been good in the military. Who knows except Bergdahl what really happened and why.

I think it is fitting that he was tried and sentenced by a military court. We should respect their considered conclusions and judgement and move on with our own lives. I find it less seemly that he is judged by a draft dodger. And don’t think that Bergdahl has or is getting off scot-free. He paid a dear price during his years of captivity, and he is now a branded man in this country. He has made clear on the stand the daily guilt and torment he lives with. My prayer for him is that he can find someone to love him and can build a life, but I know it will be tough. We should all leave him alone to gather what strength he can. From now on, he’s not our business.

Do you want to walk a mile in those moccasins? If not, please stop trying him all over again on Facebook.

I’m struck by Facebook mentality tonight anyway, as more and more men are accused of harassing women and other men. It’s like an epidemic that’s sweeping the nation. I’m afraid harassment has indeed reached epidemic proportions in our country, but I am also afraid there’s a wannabe factor to this rash of accusation. It will take years and dollars to sort out the truth, and some innocent people may be damaged.

And nobody goes after the Number One Groper, the admitted sexual predator. What a world we live in.

As I write about these gloomy subjects, I am waiting for my Austin daughter, her husband, and two sons. We’ll go to supper at Pacific Table, and tomorrow we’ll do some shopping—the TCU Bookstore, Central Market—and then they, with the Burtons, will spend a good portion of the day tailgating and at the game. Megan, a loyal graduate, will cheer for TCU and so will eleven-year-old Ford, our baseball player who wants to go to TCU; Brandon and thirteen-year-old Sawyer will be solidly on the UT side. We’ll have much of Sunday together, and I am relishing the visit in anticipation.

Be kind to each other, my friends. Love not hate. I am struck by the anger with which a man I don’t know replied to a question I asked of someone else on Facebook. Ah, Facebook. It seems to foster anger. Let’s make it foster kind feelings.

Some thoughts on sexual harassment

The current and ongoing dialog about sexual harassment, somehow sparked by Harvey Weinstein who sounds like a sleazebag, is a conversation long overdue, and I heartily cheer it. I particularly applaud that growing public acknowledgement that harassment, like pregnancy, is not just a female problem. Harassment, in fact, is not even a shared problem like pregnancy: it’s solely a male problem. I shared a post on the use of passive voice—we should say men raped women, not women were raped; boys impregnated teens, not teen girls got pregnant. They didn’t do it all by themselves!

But I have an almost embarrassing confession: I have not ever been harassed. I shared this at dinner with my daughter and her husband, and when I said, oh sure, there was the professor who hugged all the girls a little too long and too tight, and the osteopathic physician, a lifetime friend, whose hands wandered a bit when he was treating me, but I don’t call that harassment. At that point, Jordan called for another glass of wine.  But to me, the term implies, “Sleep with me or lose your job,” and I’ve never been in that position. The worst I’ve felt is patronized, like the man who once said to me, “Dr.? Really?” Yes, I have a Ph.D., and yes, I can run an academic press. Oh and there’s the man who hired me for a good-paying job and then took me to dinner and explained how oversexed he was. I told him we weren’t going there because I was newly divorced and vulnerable, and that was the end of that.

In truth, the fact that I’ve never been seriously harassed makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me as a female. Am I not attractive enough? Maybe it’s a compliment, and men saw strength. Whatever, that’s beside the point.

I am interested at how quickly the “Me, too” suggestion went viral on Facebook. The idea was to post that simple phrase if you’ve ever been harassed, and it’s spread like wildfire, which is good recognition for the enormity of the problem. I have special praise for a male friend who chimed in with “Me, too.” I’m sure it related back to his childhood, but brave of him to join the chorus.

I found myself today in the strange position of agreeing with Woody Allen, not one of my heroes, who said he was afraid the current revelations would ignite a new set of witch trials. I think though I’m not sure we saw that in cases like accusations against Bill Clinton and Bill Cosby—women came out of the woodwork with accusations, and I can’t help but wonder about the veracity of some of those charges.

Will the same thing happen again? If I, as, I hope, a reasonably attractive, accomplished woman, at one time a divorcee and a single mom, have never been harassed, surely there are others. The numbers of victims is epidemic, and I recognize that with sorrow in my heart and anger in my brain, but I fervently hope that a lot of neglected women don’t see this as a way to draw attention to themselves.

Harvey Weinstein is going to suffer the just rewards of his long and unpleasant career and, probably, many more men are going to join him in punishment, financial or otherwise. But I hope it doesn’t get out of control. Remember the McCarthy era, those of you who are old enough. And teach that lesson to our younger sisters. Let truth ring out, but let’s not the rest of us try to ride on its coattails.