[kinsey] April Is Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM) – Are We Aware Yet?

22 04 2013

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

There is still a little over a week left in April – Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM).  This is our annual 30-day-long recognition of a problem that affects far too many people, especially girls and women: sexual violence.  The primary goals of the month is to raise awareness about sexual violence and, ultimately, eliminate it all together.

With nearly forty years of anti-sexual violence activism — are we aware yet?  Unfortunately, not so much.

What Is Sexual Violence?

An important starting point for raising awareness about sexual violence is to define it.  A major focus of sexual violence prevention is on sexual assault, which is typically defined as any sexual contact with a person without their consent, through coercion, or by force.

Because of inconsistent definitions in the law, especially from state to state, non-consensual sex is sometimes referred to as rape.  Some distinguish rape from sexual assault to include any non-consensual sexual acts that involve penetration.

While these distinctions are important, at least for legal purposes, they are not inclusive of other unwanted sexual acts.  So, advocates have pushed for recognition of the full range of such acts under the broad umbrella of sexual violence.  This broader category includes:

Attention to sexual violence, as a broad class of non-consensual sexual acts, also allows for attention to victims who are often overlooked, including boys and men.

The Basis Of Sexual Violence

Next, it is important to understand what sexual violence is based upon.  Sexual violence is an expression of power.  It is a tool that is used to physical, mentally, and/or emotionally control another person.  It is not an expression of sexual desire.

In understanding sexual violence this way, the myths that someone simply goes over board, gets carried away, or that their hormones got out of control are dispelled.

Beyond Individuals

By “power,” I am referring primarily to the social hierarchies, which place members of our society either at a high or low status.  Most attention has been paid to sexual violence as an expression of sexism.  In particular, women are afforded lower status and less power in society than men.  There are various things that some men do to further limit women’s status or disempower them, or even take advantage of them, including sexual violence.

So, it is important to look beyond what, on the surface, appears to be a private, individual act of sexual violence.  For example, the seemingly personal acts of acquaintance rape  and spousal rape are fundamentally political because they serve as an express of sexism.  But, sexual violence may also be based on other systems of oppression, including racism, homophobia, transphobia, classism, ageism, ableism, and fatphobia.

Sexual Violence And Oppression

But, sexual violence is not merely an expression of one or more of these systems of inequality.  It is also influenced and justified by them.  For example, sexism includes the rigid control of women’s bodies and sexualities, the sexual objectification of girls and women, and so forth.  This creates a dynamic where girls and women are vulnerable to sexual violence, and in which some men feel entitled to women’s bodies.

When women are victimized, the act is justified by stereotyping men as naturally oversexed and women as asexual, or by blaming the victim.  Alternatively, others may turn a blind eye, or even deny that it occurred.

Also, sexual violence actually reinforces these systems of oppression.  Again, using the example of sexism, women’s subordinate status to men, and constrained opportunities and well-being are partly the artifact of sexual violence.  Some reports suggest 1 in 4 women are survivors of rape or sexual assault, and, thereafter are at risk for facing various health problems.  Even more women live in fear that they may be victimized (or revictimized).

Sexual Violence As A Social Problem

Reflecting the systematic component of oppression, sexual violence is not a random occurrence.  And, all members of society do not share an equal chance of being victimized.  Women make up 90 percent of survivors of sexual violence.  In addition, there is evidence that repeat perpetrators of sexual violence account for most acts of sexual assault and rape.

Sexual violence, then, reflects a society-wide problem.  Further, some social organizations and institutions play a role, either by 1) ignoring such acts, 2) failing to support survivors and protect victims from further harm, 3) failing to punish perpetrators, 4) condoning these acts, and/or 5) facilitating sexual violence.  For example, colleges and universities have been criticized for (unintentionally) creating space for rampant sexual violence on campuses.  Recently, more and more schools have come under fire for doing too little in response to sexual violence, or even discouraging reports of victimization.

Culturally, how we talk about sexual violence (or not) contributes to the problem.  Too often, in everyday conversations, the media, pop culture, and so forth, jokes are made about rape and sexual assault, victims are blamed for their own victimization, and perpetrators are excused for actions.  In fact, many have argued that we live in a rape culture because sexual violence and the cultural norms that condone it are so pervasive.

Another facet to this is the harassment and bullying that survivors face for reporting their victimization, and their and allies’ public anti-sexual violence activism.  In other words, some victims and allies who speak out face a backlash, which aims to silence them.  A strong effort is made to keep sexual violence invisible, or at least seem like isolated, random, private acts.

Sexual Violence Prevention As A Community Responsibility

Because sexual violence is such a huge, widespread problem, no one person can stop it alone.  That is why many anti-sexual violence advocates are pushing for bystander intervention – a call for others to fight against sexual violence.  This includes:

  1. Intervening when sexual violence occurs if it is safe to do soFor example, this can mean alerting a teacher if your friend confides in you that she is being molested by her uncle (and she agrees to have you tell the teacher).  Or, making sure your friend, who is very drunk, gets home to his own bed after a party.  Or, letting your coworker know that whistling at women on the street is a form of harassment and encourage him to stop.
  2. Supporting victims and survivors of violence.  One of the most important things to do is ensure them that you hear them and believe them.  (Unfortunately, they may be doubted by others, and face the broader victim-blaming norms in society.)  Ask them how you can help them.  And, ask them whether they wish to report their victimization (e.g., to the police).  It is okay to encourage them to pursue either support for themselves or punishment for the perpetrator, but ultimately they can choose not to and you should respect that.
  3. Challenging victim-blaming and other aspects of our rape culture.  For example, speak up when you hear rape jokes or “slut-shaming.”  Or, write to media outlets or politicians who perpetuate these problems.  Or, join an anti-sexual violence campaign or organization.  Participate in your own or the nearest college’s Take Back the Night rally and other anti-sexual violence events.
  4. Educate yourself and others.  For example, help to raise awareness about what sexual violence is, how it is a society-wide problem, and what we can all do to prevent it.  Have frank, yet age-appropriate conversations with your children, students, or other young people about consent.
  5. Break the silence about sexual violence.  This goes for allies and, if they feel safe and comfortable, survivors of sexual violence.  This means bringing up the subject when opportunities arise, or even making those opportunities happen.  My own approach is to blog and cover sexual violence in the courses I teach.  While it may be difficult in some ways, I find that men who are allies to survivors can have great impact in speaking up about sexual violence.

Indeed, we are not there yet in having a good understanding of sexual violence and why it persists.  But, hopefully, we will at least be closer by next year’s Sexual Assault Awareness Month!  And, of course, our collective efforts should not be limited to the month of April.

Additional Resources

 





Actually, Racism Could Motivate Sexual Violence

19 04 2013

*trigger warning: sexual abuse against children; sexual violence*

At the top of the list of yesterday’s most disgusting stories, and the strangest stories, is that of a white woman teacher who cried “racism” when accused of sexually assaulting one of her first-grade students.  That is, faced with the charges of touching a 7-year-old Black girls’ genitals (who she kept behind class as other students left), Esther Irene Stokes claims that she harbors racist prejudice and, as such, she despises any sort of contact with Black people.  Innocence by bigotry.

Prosecutors said that after failing a polygraph test, Stokes insisted to Humble police that she had not touched the girl “on any part of her body.”

“She doesn’t like to even touch the black children on their hand, she shies away when they try to hug her — she admitted to being prejudiced,” Blanchard said.

The complaint stated that Stokes “doesn’t like black students because she was prejudiced” and “has little to no interaction” with her accuser.

The strange self-admission of being racist came after a failed polygraph test, and other details that cast doubt on her claim to innocence:

The girl also told police that she asked the teacher to stop touching her and was made to stand out in the hall without any lunch — but Stokes also denied that.

Northwest Preparatory Academy Charter School Principal Paul A. Hardin told investigators that cafeteria records showed that the girl ate breakfast but not lunch on March 1.

Arguably, because the girl’s race is marked (Blackness is hypervisible as a master status, whiteness is invisible and taken-for-granted), Stokes may have been advised by her lawyer to announce her racism.  As a racist, there is absolutely no way in which she would willingly seek physical or sexual contact with a Black child.  As a self-labeled racist, she will face embarrassment.  But, as a child molester, she risks losing her job, time in prison, and registering as a sex offender.  But, it’s no crime to be a racist!

Racism And Sexual Desire

Actually, Stokes’s racist prejudice neither proves nor disproves the possibility that she sexually assaulted a Black child.  Arguably, some (racist) white people sexually and romantically desire racial and ethnic minorities because of their race or ethnicity.  Exotification!  The supposed ability to not see the race and ethnicity of people of color — “color-blindness” — is not much better.

The bottom line is that our sexual desires, selves, and identities develop and change within a particular social context.  We are sexually socialized in a racist society.  Collectively, what we define as beautiful (or not) is largely a product of our social hierarchies.  Black people fall at the bottom of the list of what racist white America defines as beautiful and sexy.

Distinguishing Sexual Violence From Sexual Desire

BUT!  Stokes sexually assaulted a Black 7-year-old child.  Sexual violence is not a phenomenon driven by sexual desire.  Rape and sexual assault are expressions of power.  They act to control another human being, to disempower them — not expressions of one’s desire for them.

Unfortunately, the dominant (critical) understanding of sexual violence — here adding sexual harassment, too — is that it is a manifestation of sexism and patriarchy.  (Heterosexual, cisgender) men rape, sexually assault, and sexually harass (heterosexual, cisgender) women — presumably within the same racial and ethnic, and social class groups.

But, misogyny is not the lone basis for sexual violence.  As an expression of power and control, sexual violence may be based on racism, xenophobia, transphobia, bi- and homophobia, classism, ableism, ageism, and/or fatphobia.  And, by “may,” I mean there are regular occurrences in which members of marginalized groups face sexualized violence as a product of the oppression they face.  In fact, exotification, disgust, and sexual violence are all sexual manifestations of these systems of oppression.

Racism And Sexual Violence

Black feminist scholars like Patricia Hill Collins and Angela Y. Davis have explained the links between racism, sexism, and sexual violence.  Sexual violence serves as just one manifestation of racism and sexism.  Within the matrix of domination, wherein systems of oppression intersect and reinforce one another, one aspect of the intersection between sexism and racism is the sexual violence faced by women of color.  In addition, sociologist Joane Nagel has written about the way race and ethnicity (and racism) and sexuality (and homophobia and sexual violence) work together to define social boundaries, include and exclude, and privilege and oppress.

Sexual violence has been used as a tool of racism throughout history.  White men have raped, assaulted, and harassed Black women both during US slavery and after.  The reproductive systems of American Indian and Black and other women of color have been attacked through forced sterilizations — even today through racist campaigns of the pro-life movement:

Racist Pro-Life Ad

Boys and men of color are victims of racism-based sexual violence, as well.  Under enslavement, Black men, too, were raped and sexually assaulted by whites.  In the not-to-distant past, Black men’s sexualities were controlled and policed through lynchings.  Most of these executions were extralegal punishments based on false accusations of sexually assaulting or harassing white women.  Many entailed castration and mutilation of the Black men’s bodies.  Even today, many Black boys and young men are preyed upon.

Other men of color have been targeted throughout history, as well, including the regulation of Chinese men’s sexualities through the Chinese Exclusion Act coupled with restrictions on interracial marriage.  In addition, racism and xenophobia have been enacted abroad through sexualized violence, especially in wars with other nations (e.g., the sexualized torture at the US prison in Abu Ghraib, Iraq).

Concluding Thoughts

My primary intention in this post is to highlight the ridiculousness of this case of sexual abuse.  According to media reports, it does not sound as though Stokes’s claim to innocence will hold up.  But, no one was present to witness what occurred in the classroom.  Either way, the claim that her racist prejudice would prevent her from treating a Black child as subhuman, unable to decide for herself what she does and does not do with her body, is BS.

I am not arguing that she is necessarily “more guilty” because she is a self-identified racist.  But, her prejudice certainly does not make her any less guilty.  If, for some reason, the evidence of the molestation does not hold up in court, her own admission to harboring prejudice and actually discriminating against her Black students should certainly be grounds to bar her from teaching anywhere.  Pedophile or not, this woman is disgusting and has no business teaching and interacting with children.





A Gay Guy’s Guide To Feminism – A Brief Introduction

4 03 2013

With the start of Women’s, Womyn‘s, and Womanist Herstory Month this past Friday, I have been wondering what more I can do to challenge sexism — including my own.  As I have noted in previous posts, I have an evolving awareness that my own disadvantaged social location as a brown queer man does not make me immune to sexism, nor any other system of oppression.

One important task of my anti-sexist advocacy is to become aware of the ways in which I am privileged as a man.  I know this to be a particular challenge for queer men because of our awareness that we are disadvantaged among men.  So, I was disappointed to find little beyond a few personal reflections from feminist-identified gay men to guide me and other queer men to understand and appropriately fight sexism.  The Guy’s Guide to Feminism seems like a good start, but I find it useful to engage gay men from their unique relationships with sexism, women, and male privilege.

Feminism For Gay Men 101

Though I am just at the beginning of a lifelong journey to understanding sexism and my own male privilege, here are a few lessons I would like to impart to my fellow gay men:

      1. We are men.  We hold male privilegePeriod.
      2. Yes, number 1 is true despite our sexual orientation and despite our gender expression (no matter how feminine, androgynous, or queer).  Though gay masculinity is devalued relative to hegemonic masculinity (i.e., white heterosexual middle-class able-bodied young/middle-age masculinity), it is still privileged over all femininities.
      3. Systems of oppression are linked including — particularly relevant to this discussion — sexism, heterosexism, and cissexism.  As such, our liberation is tied to the liberation of ciswomen and trans* people.
      4. While number 3 is true, we are not immune to sexist attitudes and behaviors.  And, most importantly, being gay does not make us anti-sexist.  Our marginalized status among men may make it easier to understand sexist oppression, but it does does not preclude us from it.  Just like heterosexual cisgender men who engage in anti-sexist activism, we must be active in challenging the prejudice, discrimination, and violence against women, and to keep our male privilege in check (i.e., give it up or use it for good).
      5. Though we generally are not sexually attracted to women, we are just as capable of sexually harassing or assaulting women.  The root of sexual violence is power, not sexual attraction.  I must point out here that too many of us have sexually harassed or assaulted women and naively excused the behavior as innocent because we are gay.  Sexual violence by any perpetrator is wrong.  But, that of gay men has the added element of placing our women friends and allies in the difficult position of questioning whether to feel violated or upset.
      6. Related to number 5, we must stop treating the women in our lives as objects or accessories.  Yes, many heterosexual women are guilty of doing this to us — the gay BFF, every girl’s must have! — which is also wrong.  Friendships that exist because of her gender or your sexual orientation are forms of exotification.
      7. Attraction to male-bodied individuals, men, and masculinity must be stripped of the presumed aversion to female-bodied individuals, women, and femininity.  We need not be repulsed by female bodies just because we are not sexually attracted to (cis)women.  Even when joking, this is no less problematic than (cisgender) heterosexuals who proclaim to be repulsed by people of their same sex.
      8. Certain aspects of gay men’s culture that promote pride and empowerment among us come at the expense of women’s empowerment.  To call a fellow gay man “bitch,” “cunt,” and, more commonly in the drag scene, “fish,” is to use a term that derogates women.  Though they may be positive in intent and meaning, these are not instances of reclaiming pejorative terms used against us: self-identifying as queer is; “servin’ up fish!” isn’t.  Just think how outraged we would be if women decided to adopt “faggot” as a term of endearment among themselves.
      9. Our queer, bisexual, and lesbian sisters are oppressed by heterosexism and sexism.  We, as LGBT and queer people, will not be fully liberated by addressing homophobia and heterosexism alone.
      10. Related to number 9, we must recognize that LBQ women are often subject to our sexist prejudice and behavior, ranging from anti-lesbian jokes to outright exclusion (often disguised as innocently bonding with other gay men or even the product of our exclusive attraction to men).
      11. The way that we devalue femininity among ourselves is another arm of sexism.  The “no femmes” sentiment, aptly called femmephobia, is nothing more than the hatred of femininity, which is associated with women.  Beyond eliminating this silly prejudice in our anti-sexist efforts, we do ourselves the favor of freeing the constraints on how we can behave and express our gender.
      12. We owe it — yes, we owe it — to the ciswomen and trans* people who have fought against the injustices we face to fight against those they face.  Even when kept at the periphery or outright excluded, transpeople have fought for equal rights and status for lesbian, gay, and bisexual people. Many lesbian and bisexual women served as caregivers to gay and bisexual men with HIV/AIDS during the 1980s and 1990s, while also fighting along side those who worked for better HIV/AIDS health care.  Feminists of all walks of life have advocated for our protection from prejudice, discrimination, and violence, seeing it as important in (and linked to) activism against sexist discrimination and violence against women.

We owe it to our ciswomen and trans* friends and allies — and ourselves — to be better feminists.





A Call For Bystander Intervention To End Racism

27 02 2013

In the recent sociological blog debate on racism versus the supposed dawn of “post-racism” in America, we often touched on problems that make talking about racism difficult, if not entirely impossible.  In addition to institutional constraints, there are interpersonal factors that can derail meaningful conversations about race and racism.  In addition to calling attention to these barriers, it is important to make explicit that too few people take on this difficult task.

Responsibility For (Anti-)Racism

In general, too few people consistently assume responsibility for talking about race and racism, and fighting racism more broadly.  That kind of work is presumed to be taken on by activists and leaders of social movements.  But, in particular, the responsibility generally falls in the laps of those victimized by it — in this case, people of color.  As Jason noted in his contribution to the “post-racism” blog debate, racial and ethnic minorities generally face this burden alone.

But, people of color are neither alone in this racist society nor the creators of this system of oppression.  Whites are implicated by virtue of the benefits they receive (i.e., white privilege) from the historical legacy of racism, as well as today.  Eliminating racism, then, is just as much their responsibility, if not more, as it is for people of color.

As I re-watched a few of ABC’s “What Would You Do” social experiments regarding race and racism, I was reminded just how problematic America’s sense of responsibility for racism and anti-racism are.  While too few whites intervene when they witness racist discrimination in stores against (innocent) people of color, many seem quick to intervene to sanction Black people’s criminal behavior but not that of whites (see part 1 and part 2).  (Three young Black men sleeping in their own car got more calls to 911 than did three young white men vandalizing and breaking into someone else’s car.)

A Personal Anecdote

Racist events are plentiful, from small slights to extreme forms of violence.  So, there are too many missed opportunities to confront racism, or at least learn from these events to do things differently in the future.  One such event stands out in my own life.

At the start of my second semester of graduate school, my cohort and I sat through the beginning of our training and preparation to carry out a telephone survey on social attitudes that summer.  In talking through concerns for the project, whether we as  interviewers “talk black” was posed as a potential bias in our interviews.  It felt as though as though a grenade had gone off right in the middle of class, but we continued on ignoring it.  I thought, “was I the only one who heard that?”

This event only became an issue when my colleagues of color and I were overheard joking about the racist comment the following week.  That was brought to the attention of the professor who, out of concern, asked us whether and how to “handle” this.  Three weeks later, we finally devoted an entire two-hour class to discussing the comment about “talking black” — a phrase the professor wrote explicitly on the board to facilitate our conversation.

Of course, five minutes that felt like an eternity passed before anyone broke the thick silence that suffocated the room — it was me, naturally, in which I called attention to that deafening silence.  As the tense conversation carried on, my cohort was divided, with the students of color and anti-racist white students taking issue with the concern about “talking black,” and the rest remaining silent, or speaking up to say they did not see a problem or even recast the comment in their head so that it was not problematic.

The conversation boiled down to whether the commenter said “talking black” or talking black, where the quotation marks became the symbolic boundary between belief that there is a(n inferior) style of English unique to Black Americans and the knowledge that others believe that (but not believing it oneself).  Only a racist person would forgo the quotation marks, for this would reflect their own beliefs.

With the conversation ending with a half-ass apology from the commenter, that one’s upbringing in the Midwest should suffice as an excuse for one’s racist prejudice, we left the room more divided than ever before.  The rest of our department remained curious bystanders, but nothing more came of these events outside of the efforts of students of color to challenge racism in the department and university.

To add insult to injury, later in the semester, my colleagues of color and I overheard some of our classmates complain about the ongoing divisiveness, placing blame on us for not having gotten “over it” yet.  Their simultaneous lack of understanding and lack of sympathy only further fueled the division.  I am happy to say that a great deal has been forgiven, but one can never forget such events.  But, sadly, because little came of it, we saw yet another racist event occur years later.

A Call For Bystander Intervention

I, as others before me, call for a bystander intervention approach to ending racism.  Too often, individuals not directly involved in a dangerous or difficult scenario — or bystanders — simply stand-by and watch without intervening to provide help.  As such, in the case of the prevention of sexual violence (since this “bystander effect” was coined after no one intervened in the brutal rape and murder of Kitty Genovese), advocates have strongly emphasized the need to turn bystanders into potential interveners – “bystander intervention.“  Applied to racism, this means that individuals are called to action to intervene if they witness racist discrimination, bullying, or violence.

However, I push this anti-racist bystander intervention one step further beyond intervening in difficult situations.  Similar to my calls for bystander intervention to prevent sexual violence (i.e., rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment), I stress that our anti-racist work must include a sense that racism is a community issue and, as such, anti-racism is a community responsibility.

Ways To Intervene

A related aspect is noting that racism exists at multiple levels and, as such, there are an infinite number of ways in which we can fight it:

  1. One can intervene when they witness racist discrimination or harassment.  Of course, this depends upon a number of factors that make this easier said than done.  And, no one should intervene in ways that place them at risk for getting hurt.  If it is a scenario of extreme violence, like a racially-motivated hate crime, a safe means of intervening may be to call the police.  If it is an instance of the unfair firing of a Latina coworker, you could approach your supervisor to note that you feel your coworker deserves a second chance.
  2. Challenge racist prejudice.  This can entail calling people out who appear to harbor prejudice toward people of color, or hold misguided stereotypes.  It also means calling out offensive comments that others’ may make about racial and ethnic minorities.
  3. Challenge yourself.  No matter one’s racial or ethnic background, and one’s racial ideology, no one is immune to the pervasive poison of racism.  It is important to also check your own biases and actions.  Do you seek out friends of the same race?  Do you avoid “that part of town”?  Do you do certain things, at least in part, to avoid appearing racist?
  4. Educate yourself.  Unfortunately, most Americans leave formal education knowing little about racism and the history and experiences of people of color beyond obligatory coverage during Black History Month.  To push beyond this, one can take the time to learn more (even from March to January).  Read books about and by people of color.  Go see films on historical and contemporary accounts of the lives of racial and ethnic minorities.  Visit museums that feature exhibits on race and ethnicity.  Become comfortable talking about race and racism with the people around you, no matter their race and ethnicity.
  5. Support victims of racist prejudice, discrimination, and violence.  As I wrote the first suggestion, I realized that there are so many concerns that one may have in directly challenging racist actions.  But, there are fewer concerns regarding harm in supporting victims of these actions.  Though your supervisor who unfairly fired your Latina coworker very well could threaten you, as well, you are freer to reach out to your coworker.  See if she wants to talk, needs help finding a new job, or even filing a discrimination or EEO complaint.  Even outside of severe instances of racist acts, you can be a supportive ally by really hearing people out when they reveal their experiences to you (rather than blaming them or encouraging them to think of alternative reasons for those acts).
  6. Challenge racist practices of organizations and institutions.  Though the days of overt racist laws and policies are mostly gone, there are still many — albeit neutral in intention and language — that disproportionately harm people of color.  It is important to challenge these, just as it is to challenge racism at the individual-level.  Maybe you can speak up if your workplace implements a dress-code policy that unfairly targets racial and ethnic minorities.  Take action to prevent the efforts to repeal Affirmative Action and other policies that aim to redress racial inequality.  Educate yourself and others about how new policies or policy change can contribute to racial equality, even if they are not targeted solely toward people of color (e.g., Affordable Care Act).

Concluding Thoughts

Obviously, everyone cannot become leaders of social movements like Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. or lead deadly anti-racist efforts like abolitionist John Brown or the slain Mississippi civil rights workers.  Most of us are not lifelong activists.

But, there are many opportunities throughout a given day to make a difference, no matter how small.  For, even small acts add up to a big contribution to challenge prejudice and stereotypes, educate oneself and others, end racist discrimination and violence, and promote racial diversity and equality.  Just as we are all implicated in racism, it will take all of us to end it.





[kinsey] What Is Sexual Harassment? A Different Perspective

15 10 2012

Anti-sexual harassment rally.

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

Think about this story for a moment:

In November [2009], … the Cheesecake Factory restaurant chain agreed to pay $345,000 to six male employees who claimed they were repeatedly sexually assaulted by a group of male kitchen staffers at a Phoenix-area restaurant.

Okay, now let me share another story with you:

…but one thing I noticed about him was that he feels up every woman he meets.

The first story came from an MSNBC article about the rising number of men filing formal claims of sexual harassment in the workplace.  The second story is a critique of a character on “The Real Housewives of Atlanta”, who is a gay man: can gay men sexually harass straight women?  I bet that there is a good chance that after reading the first story, you thought to yourself, “oh, the male perpetrators must be gay!”  And, after reading the second, you might have caught yourself questioning how a gay man could sexually harass a woman – why would he want to?

The point of this exercise is to highlight that many of us assume, even subconsciously, that sexual harassment entails some unwanted and harassing behaviors motivated by sexual desire.  So, some might find it confusing that a heterosexual person would harass someone of their same gender, or that a gay man might harass a woman.  But, what underlies sexual harassment is an expression of power – not desire.

The Traditional Definition Of Sexual Harassment

Beginning with the US Civil Rights Act of 1964, the dominant, legal definition of sexual harassment that has evolved overtime is one of harassing behaviors or differential treatment that are sexual in nature.  This includes unwanted sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and creating a hostile environment.  While it is understood that men can also be the victims of sexual harassment, men as harassers and women as targets of harassment is central to our common understanding of sexual harassment.  In fact, sexual harassment is commonly defined as a form of gender-based discrimination (against women).

Sexual Harassment As A Gendered Expression Of Power

There is a great deal of work, particularly in the social sciences, women and gender studies, and sexuality studies that demonstrates that sexual harassment is an expression of power, especially along the lines of gender.  For example, three sociologists recently published a study in which they found that women who hold supervisor-level positions are more likely than women who do not to experience sexual harassment.  These experiences for women supervisors largely serve to put them “in their place,” signaling that they are unwelcome in a position of power as women.  Unfortunately, factors beyond interactions among individuals appear to place women at greater risk for harassment: working in male-dominated fields, and being physical and socially isolated from other women.

Sexual Harassment Is Not (Only) About Gender

Indeed, women are not alone in being targets of sexual harassment.  Though less common, some men are victims of these experiences, as well.  In another sociological study on sexual harassment, a number of men reported experiencing sexually harassing behaviors; however, men are much more apprehensive to define these experiences as sexual harassment, probably because the common understanding limits these experiences to women.  This study also pointed out two interesting dynamics: adolescent males and men who are financially vulnerable (i.e., feel they do not have control over their financial situation) are more frequently targets of sexual harassment.

Indeed, sexual harassment is not merely a gendered phenomenon.  For example, there has been a great deal of attention in research to racial differences in women’s experiences of sexual harassment.  This work has explored whether women of color are more often targeted than white women, there are racial differences in defining one’s experiences as harassment, and whether women of color experience sexual harassment differently than white women.  Some Black feminist scholars like Patricia Hill Collins and Angela Y. Davis have noted that sexual harassment and other forms of sexual violence are manifestations of sexism, as well as racism and classism.

But, I wish to push this perspective one step further — sexual harassment is the sexual-based expression of any system of oppression, be it sexism, racism, homophobia or heterosexism, transphobia, classism, ableism, ageism, fatphobia, or xenophobia.  A few examples come to mind:

  • A white heterosexual man jokes with his Black heterosexual male coworker that he must have large penis.
  • A heterosexual woman doctor asks a lesbian patient about the particular sexual activities she engages in with her female sexual partners to make sense of why the patient does not regularly use (male) condoms or other forms of birth control.
  • A girl from a working-class background is teased frequently by boys at her school that she provides oral sex in the school bathroom to make money.
  • A cisgender man repeatedly asks his neighbor, a transman, about parts of his body and his sex life.

A Different Perspective

So, two related points come from this perspective on sexual harassment.  Sexual harassment is not limited to the unwanted and harassing behaviors that are sexual in nature by (heterosexual) men targeted toward (heterosexual).  To focus just on gender and, specifically on men as harassers and women as victims, forces us to overlook the other various ways in which sexual harassment occurs.  As a consequence, many people whose experiences fall outside of this traditional view may fail to define their experiences as sexual harassment, leading them to forgo seeking legal recourse or protection, or any actions to end the harassment in general.

The other related point is that this male-harasser-female-victim perspective is somewhat heterosexist; that is, it presumes that all parties involved are heterosexual.  By extension, this means that heterosexual desire must be present — one that entails a sexually aggressive heterosexual man and a sexually-disinterested heterosexual woman.  I must state this clearly, here: sexual harassment is not an expression of desire.  As such, one individual may repeatedly sexually harass another individual whom they do not find sexually desirable.  (In the case of sexual harassment between men, for example, it is probably the case that that heterosexual men sexual harass gay men much more frequently than the reverse.)

Now that US laws have shifted to reflect the reality that some men are survivors of sexual violence, it may be time to broaden how we define sexual harassment.  Indeed, we are beginning to acknowledge that men, too, are targets of sexual harassment.  But, it may be necessary that we recognize that sexual harassment may be an expression of racism, heterosexism, sexism, transphobia, classism, or any other form of oppression – as well as the intersections among them.





Sexual Violence Among Children — How Do We Define It?

28 01 2012

The New York Times recently covered a story about a six-year-old boy who was suspended from school after touching the thigh or groin of another boy:

It started as schoolyard roughhousing during recess, with one boy’s hand allegedly touching the upper thigh, or perhaps the groin, of another. There were no reported witnesses, and it remains unclear if anyone complained, but the principal immediately suspended the student, placing the incident on the boy’s record as a case of “sexual assault.” The children involved were first graders — the purported assailant just 6.

The severity of the punishment for this incidence has caused a stir, highlighting a number of other cases where parents raise doubts about the appropriateness of the punishment:

Experts said such incidents are not isolated, but rather part of an emerging national trend. A similar case caused a sensation in Boston in November when a 7-year-old faced sexual harassment charges for kicking another boy his age in the groin during a fight.

Due to heightened concerns over bullying in recent years — spurred by a public awareness campaign following several child suicides — school administrators now feel pressure to act boldly in cases where students might face harassment.

Yet, what appears to be driving these concerns is the appropriateness of defining these behaviors as sexual assault:

Indeed, calling a matter “sexual” when a first-grader is involved seems at odds with California statutes that indicate that such intent can only be applied to children who are in fourth grade or older.

Stuart Lustig, a board-certified child psychiatrist at the University of California, San Francisco, said that in general it is quite common, normal even, for young children to touch each other’s genital areas. “It’s curiosity,” he said. “It’s not sexual in the adult sense.”

Dr. Lustig added that it would only become a concern if a young child does not stop when told the behavior is inappropriate. However, he said he had heard of cases where schools have acted immediately to discipline youngsters, even over a single schoolyard kiss. “Schools can sometimes respond very strongly because of the legal environment,” he said.

That is, there is apprehension — even legal codes — to conceptualize certain behaviors among young children as sexual violence.  But why?  It may be that:

  1. we believe that children are too young to understand sex and sexual violence, thus, they cannot be held accountable for their actions — at least for the first instance, and for minor, less intrusive events.  But, does this also mean that children are too young to discern touching and attention they want from that which is unwanted?
  2. we believe that children are too young to be sexual.  So, touching at this age should be seen as mere curiosity.  But, doesn’t this mean children are too young to consent, and, as such, all touching is considered sexual violence?

Then, what is sexual violence among children?  Are certain behaviors (touching, staring, flirtation) considered inappropriate if they are unwanted by the target of such behaviors?  Or, does it depend on the severity of the behaviors, either in how intrusive they are or how much they harm the target of the behaviors?  Or, rather, does it depend on the intentions of the child enacting these behaviors?

An Important Moment

Following the change to the federal law defining rape to include violence against men, this is an important moment to fully engage these kinds of messy questions.  In understanding sexual violence as an expression of power over another, we must ask ourselves what power, oppression, and violence look like for children.  Just as we are apprehensive to believe that a six-year-old boy intended to sexually assault another boy, we may be apprehensive to believe that six-year-olds understand power well enough to comprehend and enact sexual violence.  Despite also denying that young children are sexual, we must engage the question of consent for sexual activity and attention.  But, we cannot overlook that children can be the targets of unwanted sexual activity or attention just because young children may not be old enough to fully comprehend all of these complex issues (adults obviously struggle, too).

Childhood may offer an important moment to teach children about sexual violence so that they may better recognize it (and, hopefully prevent it in their communities) in adulthood.  We are sending mixed messages to our youth in ignoring some forms of sexual violence and severely prosecuting others, especially where the expressions of violence are more akin to bullying than sexual assault, rape, and sexual harassment.  Fortunately, there are some places like Middle Way House that work directly with children to teach them about healthy, consensual friendships and relationships.  But, obviously, there is so much more to do.





Preventing Sexual Violence And Supporting Survivors Is A Community Responsibility

23 01 2012

The title of this post sums up the position that many have taken in efforts to prevent sexual violence (e.g., rape, sexual assault, incest, stalking, sexual harassment) and to support survivors of violence.  Such a stance goes against two problematic positions, one hostile and one supportive to survivors of violence.

  1. Hostile Victim-Blaming: Unfortunately, many people lay blame for sexual violence in the hands of victims of violence themselves.  Violent acts, such as sexual assault, are seen as incidents that are preventable simply by changing one’s behavior, interactions with others, appearance, and mentality.  First, survivors of violence, especially women, face the dilemma of providing proof that they have been victimized.  Second, if they are believed, they must provide enough evidence to convince others that such violence was not somehow the result of being sexually promiscuous, dressing in revealing clothing, giving “mixed signals” in interactions (sexual and non-sexual) with one’s attacker, drinking too much, and so forth.
  2. Supportive Victim-Blaming: Indeed, many are concerned with eliminating sexual violence for good.  But, efforts to prevent violence, like the above, center on the victims of violence themselves.  As an online op-ed at Ebony magazine points out, too much sexual violence prevention work provides potential and past victims of violence suggestions to protect themselves: don’t walk alone at night in unfamiliar places, tell a friend where you are going, watch your drinks at parties, don’t go home with strangers.  While this position differs from the above in its concern for survivors of violence, it too lays responsibility for sexual violence on the victims themselves.

Sexual Violence As A Social Problem

With estimates denoting that 17-25 percent of women and 3 percent of men are survivors of violence (experiencing sexual violence at least once in their lifetimes), it is undeniable that a substantial portion of the US population is directly or indirectly affected by violence.  The numbers alone point to a larger, systemic problem that cannot be reduced to the individual motivations and actions of every instance of sexual violence.  Yet, there are many other social factors that contribute to making sexual violence a standard component of our social world, as well.

  • Myths and stereotypes: One barrier to acknowledging and addressing sexual violence and supporting victims of violence is the inaccurate, and sometimes offensive, “information” that pervades our culture regarding gender, sex, sexuality, and violence.  Sexual violence myths include assuming all victims are women, attacked by a lone stranger (a man) in a ski mask lurking in the bushes.  But, stereotypes outside of sexual violence also contribute to a false understanding of sexual violence: men with uncontrollable sexual appetites (“they can’t help themselves“), women who have or should have little interest in sex, strong and aggressive men and weak and passive women, LGBT people as sexual aggressors, etc.
  • Exclusive focus on victims: Even in prevention advocacy and research, we place so much attention on survivors of violence — who are they, what happened to them, how many are there.  Despite extreme underreporting of sexual violence because of stereotypes, the feeling that no one will believe you, fear of retaliation by one’s attacker, and so forth, we have some sense of the demographics of survivors of violence.  But, we know little about perpetrators of sexual violence, with most information coming from reports about those who have been convicted of sexual violence.  One important fact, surprising to some, is that most perpetrators of sexual violence are not men lurking in bushes at night, nor are they otherwise innocent men who got carried away once in sexual activity; perpetrators tend to be repeat offenders (of both sexual violence and non-sexual crimes) and often know the person they attack.
  • Misplaced responsibility: Too often, potential and past victims of sexual violence are burdened with the responsibility for such violence and any efforts to prevent violence.  We, as a society, generally fail to place such responsibility on the perpetrators of sexual violence.  And, when we do, we narrowly focus on them, while ignoring others’ responsibilities to prevent sexual violence and to support survivors.  Many advocates and researchers are beginning to promote the notion of bystander intervention, which calls upon others who witness violence to intervene.  And, while we must push to never see another case where bystanders stand idly by as someone is attacked, our efforts to encourage bystander intervention also include promoting ways to change the culture that condones sexual violence: challenging gender stereotypes and gender socialization in general; teaching about sexual violence; teaching about sexual violence as expressions of sexism, racism, homophobia, classism, ageism, xenophobia, ableism, and so on.
  • Exclusive focus on gender: Another barrier to comprehensively understanding sexual violence is focusing exclusively on the role of gender: men rape women.  What is missing from this narrow analysis, besides overlooking male survivors of violence, is attention to the ways that sexual violence intersects with race and ethnicity, sexual identity, gender identity, class, body size and shape, age, nativity, and ability.  Attending to these systems of oppression does not mean only documenting demographic characteristics of the survivors and perpetrators of violence.  It also means assessing how sexual violence may operate as manifestations of these systems of power, for sexual violence itself is an expression of power over another person.  For example, in many countries, lesbian, bisexual, and queer women are raped by men in an effort to “cure” them of their sexual orientation.
  • Ignoring the role of society: Given the pervasive problem of sexual violence in society, many advocates and academics have argued for thinking about sexual violence more broadly.  As noted above, we too often lay blame on individuals, especially survivors of violence, while ignoring the roles that communities, social institutions, and culture play.  Some have pointed out that we live in a culture that normalizes sexual violence — we live in a “rape culture.”  Various institutions, like colleges, the military, and the medical system, are implicated in their failure to prevent sexual violence, support survivors of violence, and punish perpetrators of violence.  Some have argued that these institutions are structured in ways that make sexual violence invisible and potentially even promote violence.

Indeed, given the complexity and multiple layers and dimensions of the problem of sexual violence, it seems like a tall task to take on.  But, in order to protect everyone from sexual violence and to support survivors of violence, we must address every aspect of the problem.  We can no longer leave the responsibility to prevent sexual violence exclusively in the hands of potential and past victims of violence.





[kinsey] Men Who Engage In Domestic Violence Overestimate How Common It Is

15 06 2010

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

The tragic murder of UVA student Yeardley Love by her boyfriend brought domestic violence back into media spotlight last month.  And, a new media experiment on ABC by What Would You Do? asked whether and when people intervened when they witnessed domestic violence in public.  A new University of Washington-University of Houston joint study of men who engage in domestic violence, emotionally and physically harming their romantic partners, finds that they overestimate how common domestic violence is.  They conclude that these findings indicate the power of social norms in encouraging violent behavior.

The Study

A pair of psychology/psychiatry researchers, one from each of the universities, looked at 124 men who were enrolled in a treatment intervention study for domestic violence.  The men in their study, who had engaged in domestic violence against a partner in the last 3 months, were asked to estimate the percentage of men who had ever engaged in seven different forms of abuse:

  1. throwing something at a partner that could hurt
  2. pushing, grabbing, or shoving a partner
  3. slapping or hitting
  4. choking
  5. beating up a partner
  6. threatening a partner with a gun
  7. forcing a partner have sex when they did not want to.

The researchers compared their estimates to the number of men who actually engaged in such abusive behaviors.  For all seven of the abusive behaviors, the 124 men overestimated how much domestic violence actually occurs – sometimes twice or three times the actual rates.

But What Came First, Beliefs Or Behaviors?

One limitation of the study is its focus on men who already have a history of domestic violence.  Future research could explore the link between these beliefs about the prevalence of domestic violence and actually engaging in domestic violence, possibly through a long-term study on beliefs and behaviors of a sample of boys through adulthood.  One possibility is that men who engage in these violent behaviors attempt to justify their behavior  by attempting to encourage others (and, possibly themselves) to believe that domestic violence is common – “every man does it.”  These findings are important nonetheless, as they help us to better understand who engages in domestic violence and, to some extent, why.





[kinsey] 9 of 10 Campus Rapes Are Committed By Repeat Offenders

25 05 2010

This was originally posted at Kinsey Confidential.

Update? Why Was This Post Updated?

This post was originally released on Monday, May 24th, 2010, including the abstract of the new study (described below) and an image of what appeared to be a woman walking down an alley in fishnet stockings.  Via Twitter and Facebook, a number of Kinsey Confidential readers brought to our attention that such an image reinforces the idea that women should be blamed for being raped or sexually assaulted if they are dressed in revealing clothing, walk alone at night, etc.  I changed this photo, for fear that the image would continue to trigger any notion of victim-blaming.  The original image actually portrayed a young man wearing heels and tights, participating in an anti-rape activity that encouraged men to “walk a mile” in women’s shoes.  Unfortunately, due to the way the picture was cropped, this positive portrayal of a man engaging in anti-rape work was not seen.  I hope that this updated post better presents the important findings of this research on rape and sexual assault.

Rape Myths Dispelled?

There are a number of myths that surround sexual assault and rape, including one that views the typical rapist as a stranger lurking in the bushes at night.  Myths such as these make it difficult to protect ourselves from, prevent, and report rape and sexual assault.  This sometimes can lead to blaming victims of rape and sexual assault for their own victimization, largely blaming them for failing to protect themselves from an otherwise preventable crime.  Yes Means Yes reports on a new study, replicating the research of a couple older surveys, that finds that a small group of men account for the majority of rape and sexual assault attacks – up to about 90%:

First, the stranger-force rape is a small proportion of rapes, and is all but absent from the samples of self-reporters…Second, the sometimes-floated notion that acquaintance rape is simply a mistake about consent, is wrong.  The vast majority of the offenses are being committed by a relatively small group of men, somewhere between 4% and 8% of the population, who do it again … and again … and again. That just doesn’t square with the notion of innocent mistake.

The Study

Using a sample of 1,146 new enlisted male navy personnel, McWhorter and colleagues found that 144 of the men (13%) reported engaging in attempted or completed rape, as indicated by their reported sexual behaviors that approximates legal definitions of rape, since the age of 14.  Among those 144 men, the majority were repeat offenders, averaging about 6 separate incidents of attempted or completed rape.  Further, the 144 more frequently noted drugging their victims than using force, and were more likely to know their victims than to target strangers.

What About College Men?

The study of navy personnel replicated an 2002 study, by Lisak and Miller, of 1,882 college students.  Among this sample, 120 men (6% of the sample) reported behavior that constitutes attempted or completed rape – the majority (76% of the rapists) were repeat offenders, averaging about 6 incidents of attempted or completed rape.  Combined, these serial rapists committed 439 rapes/attempted rapes.  Thus, 76 men – just 4% of the entire sample – accounted for over 400 attempted or completed rapes.

Implications

One of the primary obstacles of effectively preventing sexual harassment, sexual assault, and rape is the myths that surround who does it, who is victimized, why, and who is at fault.  As the findings of these two studies suggest, a number of “rape myths” are dispelled, including (but not limited to) the exclusive fear of the stranger lurking in the bushes at night, the otherwise-innocent guy who makes a mistake, and, possibly more importantly, that something victims of sexual violence do/say (or not) leads them to be raped or assaulted.





A Note On The Importance Of Discussing Sexual Violence In The Classroom

14 05 2010

For a year now, I have taught Sexual Diversity, an upper-level 70-student sociology course, at Indiana University.  (And, I am excited to announce that I will be teaching Sociology of Sexuality at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee beginning next month.)  I admit that my personal interests and experiences are sometimes reflected in what and how I teach.  For example, the latter third of the course focuses on the intersections between sexuality and other social axes (e.g., race, ethnicity, gender, age).  But, as a good instructor, I do not limit the course to topics with which I am personally familiar.  One topic that I cover in my course is sexual violence (e.g., rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment) – a topic I do not have first-hand experience with, nor that I feel obligated to cover simply for academic pursuits.

Nearly a year before I began teaching, I asked the professor for whom I was a graduate assistant whether he ever covered sexual violence in his courses (or, implicitly, why he did not currently cover them in his courses on gender).  He admitted to me that, in his early years as a professor, he devoted a lecture (or two) to sexual violence.  But, due to uncomfortableness of the classroom discussion, he scaled the lecture back to one required reading, then an optional reading, then it simply disappeared all together.  I do not fault him for his anxiety, as it is the same anxiety I experienced from the day I first listed “Sexual Violence” on my first syllabus.  The topic is uncomfortable – the darker side of sex – because it is an unfortunate guarantee that one or more of one’s students was the victim of sexual violence in the past, that one or more students may have committed sexual violence, and that most students will know someone who has been the victim or perpetrator of sexual violence.  And, though I am not sure about the other professor, I was anxious about what I would experience during the class discussion.

Last Semester: Co-Lecture

For my first class, I worried about how my students would perceive me as a “large Black man” addressing a predominantly-white female class about sexual violence.  Though I was quite excited that it would not be another case of a white woman addressing other white women, I was worried that racial and gender dynamics might prevent students from coming to me either before or after “the class.”  I co-lectured the class with a white woman colleague who has extensive training and experience in dating violence among teenagers.  I felt that the lecture went well, but I had not connected with the students that day as I had hoped – and as I was used to with other lectures.  It may have only been my own anxious perception, or, if real, that they were not used to co-lectures (one lecturer being a stranger), that I came across as uncomfortable with the topic, or, for all involved, it simply is an uncomfortable topic.

This Semester: Calling Them Out

In general, my students of last semester balked at guest lecturers, no matter whether they were talking about hooking up, homophobia in schools, queer theory, or sexual violence.  (Panelists relaying their personal experiences, on the other hand, was quite alright – a first-hand look at an issue and a break from intense note-taking.)  So, I decided to stick it out and go alone this past semester in lecturing on sexual violence.  Unlike last semester, I forgot to give a blanket statement in the beginning about being sympathetic to students who will be too uncomfortable to sit through a particular topic (but to drop if that would often be the case), given my strict attendance policy.  This time, I singled out the week on sexual violence – one day on rape and sexual assault, the other listed as “Pedophilia” but that actually covered moral panics – and let my students know they could miss either day, no questions asked, so long as they let me know in advance so we could make other arrangements.  (The final exam covered material from those days.)  Unfortunately, a couple students took me up on that offer – either right before the lecture on rape and sexual assault or, unfortunately, after because of upsetting comments made during that lecture.

In the lecture, I decided to focus on a few key things: definitions, rape myths, victim-blaming, and bystander intervention.  I began, as usual, with a few links of stories in the news, some unrelated but generally about sexuality, others directly related to sexual violence.  Then, I started with a broad definition of sexual violence, reminding them of our lecture earlier in the semester on sexualized oppression (using lynching and the sexual violence at the US prison in Abu Ghraib as examples).  From there, I defined sexual harassment, sexual assault, and rape, comparing the latter with the legal definition of rape in Indiana:

Rape:

Sec. 1. (a) Except as provided in subsection (b), a person who knowingly or intentionally has sexual intercourse with a member of the opposite sex when:
(1) the other person is compelled by force or imminent threat of force;
(2) the other person is unaware that the sexual intercourse is occurring; or
(3) the other person is so mentally disabled or deficient that consent to sexual intercourse cannot be given;

I asked my students to critique this definition of rape, to which they responded “heterosexist,” “narrowly defined to intercourse,” calling out the way in which rape is limited to heterosexual rape narrowly defined to include intercourse.  (I pointed out that everything else falls under “sexual assault,” which sometimes carries the same punishment.)  Then, bringing back their own responses to the survey I gave them earlier in the semester, we discussed blame.  In every one of a few situations given, a substantial number of the students reported that a woman, if raped, is at least partially to blame – if she was drunk, walking alone at night, wearing revealing clothing, had a reputation as a “slut,” flirted with the man who raped her, failed to clearly say “no,” or any situation at all.  I attempted to refrain from assessing their responses, simply reporting the percentage that noted that the woman in these hypothetical situations was either partially or totally responsible for her own rape.  One student asked, “wait, but what kind of sample was this?”  I was proud that she presented this critical question, and smugly responded, “the sample is this class.”  I could not accurately assess her reaction, but I was oddly pleased with her subsequent silence, as though she could not believe her classmates would think a victim of violence could be blamed for their own victimization.  Typically, if there is silence, I move forward, assuming the students are busy taking notes.  But, this time, I waited, firmly pushing for a discussion.  A few male students, who are typically vocal in the class, offered possible rationale for blame: knowing the risks that exist, one should take precautions, just like wearing a seatbelt in a car.  Some female students agreed as well.  But, though equal in numbers, a more vocal group of students, all female, protested any potential for blame for one’s own victimization.  The comment that seemed to silence the risk-highlighters was “being a woman is a risk in itself.”

Before the tension grew further, I moved onto defining victim-blaming.  The key point I emphasized was that victims of other types of crimes are typically not blamed for their own victimization.  For example, as in the case of the story of The Rape of Mr. Smith, and using two stories from Indiana University’s student news paper, the Indiana Daily Student, one on a woman who claimed to be raped and another on a woman who was robbed, I argued that the way we even talk about rape and sexual assault reflects victim-blaming or that we do not even believe sexual violence happens.  I spent a short amount of time defining rape myths, giving a few recent examples from the news that counter the idea that all rapists are creepy men lurking in the bushes at night, and that all victims of sexual violence are young, white attractive women who are raped for sexual pleasure.  And, knowing that some recent research has found bystander intervention training to be more effective than sexual violence education that treats women as potential victims and men as potential perpetrators, I concluded with charging our community with the responsibility of ending sexual violence.

Feedback

Did I come across as lecturing at my students from a soapbox?  Did some wonder, “who’s this guy talking about rape?  What does he know?”  Did I come across as disinterested, yet teaching the topic out of obligation?  Of course, I left that day worried about the impact I had, or whether I had any at all.  Only a few students came to see me after class, and none had questions or concerns that were about that day’s lecture.  I asked my teaching assistant and future teaching assistant whether the class went well and, more importantly, whether it was important to include sexual violence in future course.  They both gave positive responses.  A student in the class also affirmed the importance of teaching about sexual violence, and noted that she was pleased with the way I had taught the topic.  I wanted more feedback, whether it was good or bad, but I received more feedback (mostly solicited by me) than for any other topic.

The next class day, in the goal of reciprocity, I gave students the chance to ask anything about be me (anonymously), given that they had divulged so much in the two written assignments.  I was surprised to find that one student, relinquishing her anonymity by writing her name at the top of her paper, sought confirmation – did I believe that victims could be blamed, or was I convincingly neutral/objective?  I was satisfied that I had learned to pull myself a bit more out of the class from my first teaching experience, but I was a bit saddened that anyone would leave thinking I would endorse victim-blaming.  I started to email the student to address her concern, but decided it was best to address the whole class.  So, in my short divulge about myself – my queer sexual identity, my genderqueer gender identity, by biracial racial identity, my passion for studying sexuality, and my refusal to tell them the number of sexual partners I have had in my lifetime (though a number asked) – I ended with a disclaimer that I do not believe a victim of any sort of violence can be blamed for their own victimization.  The student who asked emailed later, admitting she was the student who asked (maybe she forgot she wrote her name?), and said that she  was relieved and quite pleased with the way I taught about sexual violence.

A Note On The Importance Of Discussing Sexual Violence In The Classroom

The topic is uncomfortable, but, I feel in my heart that I have failed as an instructor of sexual diversity and the sociology of sexuality if I teach for 15 weeks without ever directly addressing sexual violence.  While it is fun to discuss hooking up, how we define sex, the numerous sexual identities, it is also crucial to discuss the way in which sex is infused with power (queer theory much?) – how systems of oppression shape and constrain our sexualities, how oppression itself can be sexualized, how oppression is reflected in sexuality itself (e.g., the “orgasm gap” in hooking up).  My class may be the “Debbie Downer” of takes on teaching sexual diversity, but I fear that my class may be the only class where students hear an instructor and fellow students talk critically about sexual violence.  I still feel that the lecture itself can be improved, maybe even expanded beyond one day, but I feel good for and have received positive feedback on the work I have done thus far.  I hope that, in some way, I have validated victims of violence, prevented future sexual violence, and enlightened many on the importance of recognizing and ending sexual violence.