Intersections and Beginnings
Years ago, at my first job interview I was asked which aspect of race, class, gender, and sexuality I paid the least attention to in my teaching and research. I was not prepared for this question. My go-to answer, probably like most candidates’ answers, was that I really worked to be sure that I covered all of these aspects in my teaching. Each time I named one, I would second-guess that answer and talk myself out of it--my rambling process made awkwardly verbal. Race was central. So was gender. Class cannot be separated from race. I think I finally settled on sexuality, but I didn’t really have a good explanation for why. I could say out loud that I didn't focus on sexuality because I was not ready to be "out."

There were many reasons I did not get that job. One of those reasons could have been my lack of development as a scholar. I had not yet written my dissertation. I was still trying to figure out exactly what I should concentrate my work on, exactly which sub-field I should seek employment in. I was also naïve about politics and appearances. Because I was a white woman seeking a position in African American studies, I was immediately discounted by most of the students and potential colleagues that I met. The political climate--and the students' raw need for a professor of color--created a pretty tense situation, and understandably so. My intersectional approach, my commitment to diversity and social justice, my excellent teaching record, my published book and many conference presentations, the respect I had earned among my colleagues at my home institution--none of these mattered.

I was only what my appearance reflected, and my discount-store suit, untamed frizzy hair, and overall lack of polish didn't help. As much as I wanted a job, I knew that this job was not for me (and I was right; it was a failed search). I could not be the person they wanted and, in fact, each constituency--the students, the faculty, the administration--wanted a different person. The students wanted a black person who could understand where students of color were coming from. The faculty wanted a scholar who understood intersectionality within and beyond African American studies. And the administration wanted a person of color that they could parade around as a symbol of diversity. I was only one of these people, and I wanted my work to speak for itself.

Through my work, I have matured as a scholar and have come into my own; I feel (mostly) confident, especially in my abilities as a teacher, and especially in my interdisciplinary/intersectional approach. My work has grown from my educational foundations in American studies, women's studies, and comparative ethnic studies, and has given me the tools to write about Hip-Hop, literature, television, pedagogy, and so much more. I have also had the privilege to reconcile my personal and political interests through my work related to my book, Women and Fitness in American Culture, and my current research project about young adult dystopia.

I have found that my specialization is in the connections between and among all of the areas that I (am forced to) work in, but it is not easy to navigate the spaces between and among. As I have continued to teach, research, and write about race, class, gender and sexuality, this interview question--and my inability to answer it--has been at the back of my mind and I have worked hard to be sure that I am doing justice to each tenant of intersectionality, especially in their interlocking/intersecting/overlapping. This is not easy work. But it is work that I am passionate about.

The sexuality aspect of my work has not developed at the same rate as the race, class, or gender components. My radical ideas about sexuality have mostly stayed at the fringes of my work and the edges of my life. I have been afraid to engage with sexuality as a component of intersectionality for a variety of reasons, mostly because it is difficult to come out as something specific when I am still struggling to understand myself. I have not engaged this vector of intersectionality because I have the privilege to ignore it.

Just like my whiteness dictated how I was perceived as a candidate for a job teaching about race, my assumed heterosexuality means that I don't have to worry about being judged, belittled, or dismissed because my gender and sexuality are queer. I can stay silent and let people assume what they want to. Many times in the past people have assumed I am a lesbian (or so I have been told). I don't wear a wedding ring. I teach women's studies. I talk about my dog but not my partner/husband. I must be a lesbian, right?
 
But the beauty of the work that I do is that I have the freedom to explore my personal and scholarly interests from a variety of angles. I can rework the pieces and fill in the gaps. Recently I decided—for personal and professional reasons—that I need to bolster that sexuality piece of the puzzle. So, being the academic nerd that I am, I selected a number of books and started my own little reading/research/writing project.

I find time to read these books in the spaces in between my other work and they have already begun to inform my teaching and my thinking. They have already helped me to know myself better, to feel more confident in who I am, to feel less shame is being queer. So, when I have some spaces, I will share some of these books and the interesting intersections they push and pull. I am not sure exactly where this project will lead, but I am excited for the ride.

One of the things that I teach in my Introduction to Women’s Studies course is that it is too easy to blame men or patriarchy for the inequalities and oppressions that continue to plague women. It’s always more complicated. And, yes, these inequalities and oppressions continue to exist in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, especially when there are more vectors of inequality (race, sexuality, class) at play. But, again, this is where things get more complicated.

We also talk about the importance of supporting women, of refusing to compete with other women for the attention and approval of men, of supporting other women who experience sexism, misogyny, and oppression. Many of the women of my generation, and many women the age of my mother or grandmother, find it important to mentor younger women. We try to model feminism in our words and actions and provide opportunities for younger women—our students, allies, friends, and families—to explore, excel, and act on their own behalf and toward social justice for others.

But another thing that we discuss is how women can uphold the values of patriarchy, even without realizing it. Even when espousing feminism. Even when trying to do the right thing by other women. Gloria Steinem's gender-infused support might have inexorably hurt Hillary Clinton’s bid for candidacy. But Hillary will survive. In cases closer to home, the damage may not be so easy to overcome. But it gives us more fuel to fight.

This brings me to a current and ongoing example of the ways in which women—whether we identify with and use the term feminist or not—can do more harm than good when we try to help younger women, when we try to make decisions in someone else’s best interest. There is a difference between being supportive or being an advocate and acting in a paternalistic way. Some women--even when they have good intentions--fail to see the difference.

Last semester a student came to me during finals week to discuss some of the work she owed me and ended up reporting how she was being sexually harassed at her place of work. The harassment had been ongoing and had escalated from comments about other women’s bodies, to outright propositions for sex, to unwanted touching. She had waited too long to report the sexual harassment, which had been going on for months. I told her she should report it immediately. Since the employee who was harassing her was leaving for another job, she decided not to report it. I respected her decision, but—in retrospect—I regret that I did not convince her to report the abuse regardless.

This student prides herself on being open and honest—on supporting other women and on being true to herself. After a lifetime of abuse, she deserves to have the space and time to find herself. That’s one of the reasons why she is attending college, majoring in Interdisciplinary studies, and working as the student intern for our Women Invigorating Curriculum and Creating Diversity committee. She advocates for herself and other women on a daily basis. She has been there for friends and for other students as they have dealt with abuse, stalking, and violence. But she also needs to work off-campus to support herself and pay for her education. She has learned a lot about herself over the past four years and is less naïve and sheltered than she was when she began college.

This student is also conventionally attractive and uber-friendly. She often dresses in short skirts, tight shirts, high heels, and a variety of fashionable ensembles. She wears a lot of make-up and puts a lot of time into her hair and outfits. She stands by her right to dress in the way that makes her feel comfortable even though she has also had to deal with other people’s inability to honor that right. Professors have asked me to talk to her about the way she dresses, to remind her that she is sending the “wrong message.” And her employer has attributed her appearance to the ways in which men act around her, flocking to the front desk and lingering to talk to her. She is regularly sexually harassed. In fact, it is a kind of a norm in her life. For instance, when her friends (and she has many male and female friends) found out that she had broken up with her boyfriend, she got several “dic pics” and an erotic story sent to her in a matter of a few days. She is regularly approached by men who want to give her things or take her on dates. She is still learning that these offers are not always what they seem at face value.

So, when she began to experience sexual harassment that went beyond playful banter (that she admits engaging in sometimes), it was difficult to identify it as something more sinister. Further, since this harassment often happened when she worked alone with her male co-worker and when the management staff had already gone home, she was isolated and rendered powerless and fearful. And, since this employee harassing her was widely liked and praised by many co-workers and patrons, she thought that she would not be believed.

But the biggest reason that she did not immediately come forward has to do with a previous incident at work, when she was shamed for her too-friendly behavior (which is her job) and blamed for the ways in which male co-workers and patrons treated her. This shaming and blaming was done in a way that couched the criticism as a “life lesson.” The female head of the company actually blamed her for potentially breaking up marriages and asked her to be less friendly and to leave the desk when certain male patrons entered the building. In other words, it is the same story told time and time again—blaming the woman for men’s uncontrollable sexuality.

She could recognize the problematics of this shaming and blaming. Not only was this “lesson” from the management sexist and discriminatory, it was something that she had heard before. So, it was no wonder that when she began to be sexually harassed, she brushed it off. The sexual harassment often took place in front of other employees who did not recognize the harassment as problematic. More than one employee had overheard him making comments about wanting to “tap that” when referring to women patrons. More than one employee had been harassed.

But then he decided to stay with the company and the head of the company sent an email to all employees praising him for his superior customer service skills, hinting at a promotion and raise, and referring to his bright future at the company.  And, so, this victim really had no choice but to come forward. In fact, I also work for this organization and I ended up reporting it to our shared supervisor during my performance review along with a sexual harassment incident I had experienced. Let's just say, things did not go so well and I have been working to support this student and to give her opportunities to tell her story and to fight for her rights. Her story is long from over.

The story from this point is long and more complicated than I can capture here. It is a universal story of women’s experiences that has been told a million times in all of its iterations, and it is a story that will continue to be told. The outcome (for now) boils down to the “he said/she said” situation of so many stories like this. The outcome was not immediate termination of the sexual harasser despite the fact that Maine is an at-will state and the fact that the employee had violated multiple workplace policies. This was the only acceptable outcome. Instead, schedules were rearranged, sexual harassment training was implemented, and she was expected to just get over it.

While (female) management claimed to believe her in private conversations, and while they sanctioned him and punished him, the official written response from the head of the company is that they did everything that they could possibly do, but also explicitly states that they are not admitting that any harassment took place. In fact, in private conversations management revealed that the reason that they did not fire him was because they wanted to protect her. He had threatened to sue her for defamation of character if he was fired. The “HR lawyer” said that she would be crucified in court, and they decided that she was “too fragile” to deal with something like that. Never mind that such cases (usually reserved for public figures) are difficult to prove and take substantial investment up front. The decision was made for her and she was left in the dark.

Further, her privacy was not protected; they said they were legally obligated to tell him who reported the claim of sexual harassment. When she tried to stand up for herself and requested a written statement of the information she was legally entitled to, her request was ignored. Instead she was pulled into a meeting where the head of the company tried to justify her actions while continuing to shame and blame. When the written statement finally followed, it was incomplete at best.

The process that was followed is symptomatic of our patriarchal culture. And it has been questioned and will most likely be questioned again. But the point here is that on at least two occasions a woman, claiming and believing that she was acting on the behalf of a younger woman, supporting her and teaching her life lessons, was really acting in the interest of the company, of patriarchy, and—as the head of the company who had praised and promoted the harasser—for herself.

There is no easy answer or solution to this situation and others like it, but when we work to support other women (especially the younger women we wish to mentor) we need to remember that we are fostering their voices, empowering their actions, and providing opportunities for growth and empowerment—and, ultimately, we cannot control the outcome any more than the playing field. We can fight for justice side by side, but need to let them speak for themselves, find their own paths, and wage their own battles. We need to get over ourselves, our experience, our earned positions and our honed expertise—and remember that this thing that holds us down is bigger than we are, and we are stronger together.

Rachel Hills, The Sex Myth:
The Gap Between Our Fantasies and Reality

As a part of my personal/professional reckoning sexuality project, I will be sharing some thoughts on the books I am exploring. While I read this one a while ago, the author will be on our campuses this week, so I thought it was about time to share this blog!

The title of this book does not really represent what this book is about. The use of “the” to describe “sex myth” gives the impression that there is only one myth involved here when there are many myths that contribute to skewed understanding of the myths and realities. Further, the implication that we have multiple, plural fantasies, but only one, singular reality limits the possibilities of closing that gap. And, really, this book is about reality much more than it is about fantasy.

The title should be something more like: "How the Millennial Generation Navigates Hypocrisy and Hypersexualization." The “Our” in the title is most definitely interchangeable for Millennials generally, and Americans, Europeans, Australians, white, middle class, etc. specifically. But the book also provides diverse voices and works to represent sexuality beyond the heterosexual paradigm.

I consider this book a light, introductory read that shines light on a subject that is much deeper, more complicated, and embedded in a number of cultural institutions, ideologies, and practices. The author relates her own experiences and others’ experiences without judgment. She argues for a culture where sexuality “can be just one small part of the puzzle of who each of us is, instead of the load that defines us." She illustrates the ways in which young people define themselves through their sexuality, which is hindered by "the Sex Myth."

It is an interesting read, and the argument is valuable. This cross-cultural exploration of sexual myths, shows how the dominant ideologies of the white/Western world shape cultural norms and acceptable thoughts and behaviors. The anecdotal evidence that crosses several continents can only be so representative of the bigger picture. And yet, the stories are honest and genuine and the message of freedom is clear.

In my personal/professional project, this book gave me space to reflect upon what might have been different for me if I was coming of age today (and it had some interesting connections to my YA dystopia work and to my introduction to women's studies course). It reminded me just how sheltered I grew up and just how fucked up my sense of self and sexuality is. Sometimes I lament the openness and options that youth have today compared to the silence and assumptions of my youth. If I were coming of age today, would I feel more comfortable being open and honest with myself as well as with the world? Maybe. But today’s sexual environment is fraught with just as many roadblocks and potholes, they are just more varied and more menacing… and more potentially liberating.

Hills’ message seems to be more about the right to choose to not live up to the sexual hype and to be ourselves. How we should work collectively to change the limited structures of sexuality is offered a more passive solution. Her final paragraph proclaims: “It is we who are responsible for creating the future. We are creating it already, in the things we say, do, and choose to believe. The Sex Myth may be powerful, but we have the ability to dismantle it. You just need to cast off the stories and the symbolism, and let yourself be” (214). The shift from the collective voice of “we” to the individual voice of “you” might give the impression that making individual lifestyle (or ideological) changes is enough to “dismantle” the Sex Myth.

Choosing and enacting personal freedom is a start. We have to understand sexuality personally, politically, physically, mentally, and we can only begin to understand and rework our old ideas when new paradigms are available and accessible. Rachel Hills’ book helps us take steps in that direction, but we need far more tools in our toolbox.

This is an open letter to those who witnessed him sexually harassing me and did nothing. This letter is also for those who I reported it to--who said they believed me, that they understood, that they wanted him fired--but ultimately could not do what justice called for. Most importantly, this is for my sexual harasser. I was violated. I never consented to your treatment of me. You took advantage of me. May you read this letter and know that I will not cater to a system of silence. May the others who witnessed some of your unsettling behavior, but accepted it as normal, also read this letter and wonder what they could have done differently. I will tell my story to my students, loved ones, to strangers--and to the future victims of sexual harassment--so they can learn and grow as I have done. I will fight a system that does not care for the truth.

Asking "Sister, are you okay?" to someone you see getting harassed, is an empowering thing. Not only are you letting her know that what happened is wrong, but you are standing with her so she is not alone in a culture that accepts harassment as a part of the norm and just part of "boys being boys." You treat her as if she is family because she is. As fellow human beings some of the most important things we must do in our lifetime are to spread love, safety, and equality for everyone. When the law is broken and she is sexually harassed, stand beside her, show her kindness, and treat her like she is your sister for she is not a sex object to be played with at will. When you see a fellow human kicked to the ground, too afraid to get back up, would you leave her there in pain or would you risk injury to yourself to help her stand? She is not a possession. Her body belongs to no one but herself. Being there for her reminds her that she is strong, that she is a survivor.

After suffering a lifetime of abuse, I thought I was finally free to find peace in all areas of my life. I pride myself on being open and honest--on being me. Naïve and taught to trust everyone, I have encountered more and more trauma. Still finding my way through the cruel reality I was surrounded by, I met you. And upon learning about my past, that I was a survivor of abuse, you took advantage of me. You said all the right, comforting things so I would trust you. You saw how vulnerable I was and tried to fuck with me. You would watch my body as I walked. Your eyes would linger and grow heavy with want. Mouth agape, you’d lick your lips and ask to have a taste of what belonged to me. For hours you’d sit in your chair and talk about what you thought was an object born for your personal pleasure and would beg me to go with you to your car so you could take advantage of this body you thought belonged to you. “No,” I said turning my body away from you in embarrassment, and yet you persisted. You pushed.

You took up more space. You stood behind me and would whisper in my ear your desires. I could feel your hot breath on my neck, rolling down my spine, forcing me to shrink under the weight your words carried. Shrinking further and further into myself as you peered down at me, fear consumed and immobilized me. Fear that echoed from my past abusers and fear of you. I twirled the ring on my finger in hopes of calming down so you wouldn’t see me cry. In the safety of my car I wept. I wept because my trust was broken yet again and I had more to fear than just my past.

I became afraid to walk to my car at night because you might be waiting for me. Afraid to come to work because sometimes you’d treat me like the friend I trusted, and other days you’d act like a hunter slaughtering a deer with your wanting eyes ripping into my clothes to reveal the flesh you craved. It wasn’t long before you began brushing up against me so your hand would graze my ass and you could drink the spoils of your demeaning behavior and abuse of power. Paralyzed with fear, I did nothing. I made excuses for you. I made excuses for myself. Since you were leaving the company we worked for, I thought your leaving would make me feel safe again. I thought it would be easy to just let you go, to let my fear and insecurity leave with you. To my astonishment and disappointment, you changed your mind and decided to stay.

To the one teacher who stood by me and protected my rights to the best of her ability, thank you. You sought justice where others fell silent. You found legal help for me when others wanted me to keep quiet and accept the lack of action taken because it is a “he said/she said situation.” You reported his illegal actions and encouraged me to put my fears aside and come forward. You asked, “Sister, are you okay?” You found my strength and taught me lessons I never learned in a classroom. You taught me self-care and how to build the walls necessary to keep evil like my sexual harasser’s out. With each new brick to this wall I could feel the foundations of empowerment form.

Out of dread that he would treat my fellow coworkers with the same disrespect, I stood up to fight his perversion, but I was not alone. We stood together and created an unbreakable force. There has been no real resolution--no justice--but we are fighting this battle for all women who will encounter this man and others like him. I take part in an effort to create a world where we are all free from oppression, harassment, and coercion. To those who are suffering, I am here. I am with you. I am listening. I am fighting. We are not helpless victims who must shrink in fear. We stand together. Together we can reach out to all of those who are oppressed and seek a better world.

To my sexual harasser, apparently I need to make this clear as you have yet to grasp the meaning of consent. This is my body. My body belongs to me. My body is sacred and you have no excuses for your behavior. The system has made excuses for you. The system has blamed me because that is what it does to women. It has tried to take away my voice. I’ve had enough abuses and pain. I stand to stop the internal screams. You can’t touch me anymore.

My sisters stand strong with me.

--Jessica L. Bishop