How might our social norms and daily activities be different? Would our workplace and governmental policies be more evolved? Would our jurisprudence codes be changed? Would companies’ profits, and entire stock markets, be stronger? Might countries’ GDPs be larger, enabling more programs for the common good? Would history be altered?
Men’s physical dominance would no longer matter. They would be hesitant to walk alone at night, be concerned about how they dress, be trained in self-defense techniques, and know how to use pepper spray. They even might want to carry a whistle or have a special app on their phone or watch.
Male judges would not comment to rape plaintiffs that “sex and pain sometimes go hand in hand” and “why can’t you just keep your knees together?”
Convicted rapists would not be able to be released from jail after serving three months of a six-month sentence, by both the letter of the law and male administration of it.
Whistleblower processes would be taken with the utmost seriousness and not threaten accuser’s careers. In fact, the negative nuance of the term would flip as reporters would be viewed as upholding their organization’s values, protecting its brand, and mitigating significant financial risks.
An estimated $1.6 billion would not have been paid out in 2015 to settle roughly 27,000 harassment claims in U.S. workplaces.
The holistic impacts of sexual assault on corporate performance would receive tantamount focus. Engagement costs–productivity (revenue and cost) hits, absenteeism, drops in talent acquisition contributions, and additional health and mental care costs–would be scrutinized in both victim and organizational contexts. Topical key performance indicators would be formulated and linked to profit sharing calculations. PR and brand impacts would be highlighted in investor calls.
“Escapes” that include alcoholism, drug addiction, and visible weight fluctuations would not be downplayed or regarded as weaknesses. Insurance plans would gladly cover all rehabilitation costs needed to get the men back to work and their family unit in tip-top shape.
Companies, and countries, would have to pay higher rates to borrow money due to accepted and enforced standards linking gender inequities with increased execution risks and assault’s significant top and bottom line impacts.
Anita Hill would have been taken seriously, and Clarence Thomas would not be on the Supreme Court.
Our current President would not have been elected.
And perhaps, more men might share my convictions.
You see, I was raped.
Something, I presume, was slipped in my drink at a college party and I woke up to find a woman on top of me.
It was terrifying. The first time in my life, in that situation, I could not exert control. In fact, I couldn’t really move. I will never forget realizing I was powerless, that someone else was both making and running the social and physical rules. That no matter what I might try to do, or say, it didn’t matter.
I was her property, to be treated as she pleased. It was revolting, vile, and extraordinarily demeaning, physically and mentally. Men, I ask you to try and imagine yourself in the position of simply lacking the capacity to be in control.
This, I am projecting, is how most women feel to various degrees as a daily baseline: trapped in a world of someone else’s dictates.
You deal with it in different ways. Always comporting a smile even when the brain and soul behind the make-up are screaming, menstruating, or simply don’t feel like smiling. Acquiescing to whatever banalities the slewed situation demands. Prefacing interruptions with “I’m sorry” (even though you may not be) to establish a brief vestige of shared power. Using the appeal of your sex, versus your (oftentimes superior) abilities, to work around or through the system. Having your confidence, and resiliency tested–every day, of every week, of every month, of every year, of every decade–by a cornucopia of privileged biases, stereotypes, and objectifications you have trivial ability to sway.
And then you go home…
Intellectually, I understand these dynamics and they alone, staring me in the face, en masse, make me want to wretch and tear (and provide the purpose behind my work).
Sexual assault is the pinnacle of this systemic and confining exploitation. Emotionally, I understand the feeling of shame that it happened, the perception the world will undoubtedly question your contentions, and simply wanting the whole thing to go away.
I understand why so many have remained silent, all potential impacts on their careers aside. My abilities to compartmentalize and “forget,” at least on the surface, are profound. It has been 30 years and the feelings still saliently linger. But nothing can bury truth and I am no longer hesitant to speak out and share my experience.
The incident has had an obvious and ingrained impact on how I see the world. In retrospect, it has helped me be human.
And if nothing else, it has provided a great topic of conversation with my kids.