Harvey Weinstein. Louis C.K. Kevin Spacey. Politicians. Entertainers. Teachers. Coaches. The list goes on and on. In some ways, each new day seems to bring us to a new low, another new revelation, another new disappointment that someone we may have held up as an icon or an idol has fallen off of his pedestal. That guy? But I loved that guy’s movies! I paid money to see that guy! The stories are horrifying, stomach-churning, defy comprehension.
And yet. And yet there are so many who have endured this, for so long, that it really doesn’t. It’s not that it’s new, it’s that it’s making news. It’s that somehow, for some reason, the powerless are finding their voice, speaking out against those who have held power over them for so long. As some of these stories have reported, in many cases those who speak up are further silenced, further abused by those who hold the power, by those who have broken trust. But every once in a while, speaking truth to power enables others to find their voices as well. And instead of just one story of abuse, we learn about a pattern of behavior.
Last Thursday the champion swimmer Diana Nyad detailed her own story of repeated abuse at the hands of her coach, from more than fifty years ago. And like, so many others, once she found a way to share her story, she learned that she was not alone, that he had also been abusing others. He was her coach, her mentor, she says, the “father I had always yearned for.” One paragraph in particular stands out from the lengthy, detailed, powerful piece:
“Mine is an age-old scenario. Coaches and priests and doctors and scout leaders and stepfathers and, yes, movie producers, have been preying on those they are supposedly mentoring for far too long. And this isn’t the first time I’ve told my story. I first gave voice to the details of the years of humiliation when I was 21; the sense of power it gave me was immediate.”
Mentoring relationships are, and will always be, power relationships. The person in the mentor role always has power over the person in the mentee role, no matter how well-intentioned the mentor is. The mentor controls access to opportunity, to development, to networks, and to resources. The mentee wants to be in relationship with the mentor, because he or she represents something to which the mentee aspires. The mentee wants to learn from the mentor, craves his or her feedback and encouragement, and, intended or not, will start to shape his or her behavior in the direction of the mentor’s own.
What does this mean for mentoring relationships, then? Should we avoid them, for fear of the damage that might be inflicted? Of course not. But it does mean that we should not enter into these relationships lightly, and we should be aware of both our responsibilities and our commitments throughout the mentoring process. I recently heard a woman in a considerable position of power tell a room full of other women that mentors “tell everyone that they are awesome.” This is not remotely true. Mentors, effective mentors, tell their mentees when they are screwing up, give solid, objective feedback on both shortcomings and successes. They aren’t there just to give blind pats on the back. But they also aren’t there to abuse.
Effective mentors are always focused on the needs and the goals of the mentee. The focus of the relationship is on the mentee’s growth and development and the mentee’s interests and path. Often people will speak of mentoring relationships as “reciprocal” relationships. This is, I believe, a very dangerous framework. It implies an even exchange, a quid pro quo, that I am only mentoring you if I can be assured that I will get something out of this relationship.
The truth is, I have always benefited from the relationships in which I have served as a mentor. I have always learned, and grown, and become a better person due to the conversations and the feedback which my mentees have given me. But that has never been my intent in entering into those relationships. Anyone who is mentoring someone in hopes that he or she might “get something” out of it, needs to check his or her intentions and the potential damage that is being done.
A recent body of research has identified the qualities of the “tormentor,” one who uses a mentoring relationship, either intentionally or otherwise, to do harm. Sometimes this looks like holding power over another person. Sometimes this looks like pushing someone down a path that he or she does not want to be on. Sometimes this looks like flaking out and failing to uphold our commitments. And sometimes this looks like outright abuse.
Mentors hold another person’s life in their hands. It is that serious, that consequential, that impactful. Just look at the stories of Diana Nyad, or the many other brave women and men who have come forward over the past few weeks, willing to publicly speak truth to power. Mentoring relationships are a privilege, not a right. It is a privilege to be of service to, and to learn from another person. It is the mentor’s privilege.