Women have en masse been revealing via #MeToo posts on social media that they have been sexually assaulted. My heart breaks that this is normal. That it is unsurprising to see so many friends and family acknowledge that assault and violence is a recurring reality in their lives. It’s as normal as going to a bar, or going on a walk when the sun’s down. For the initiators of unwanted sexual advances, it’s as simple as a chance encounter with a stranger, or being in a position of power, from shift manager to president.
Years ago, a girl I loved told me what had happened to her while traveling. I wanted to cut the guy open with a box-cutter. I wanted it to never have happened. Finally, I simply wanted her to travel, date and ride bikes; to be happy, older and safe.
Another told me of the hell she grew up through, the way her body and mind and conservative community were used against her by an almost-stranger from too young of an age, night after night, for years. I wrote down the name of her abuser. I told myself I’d hunt him down, I’d kill him. Instead I became proud of the amazing woman she’d become despite him. He’s still out there.
I learn about mutual friends who have crossed boundaries, large and small, and how little is done to correct them. How defensive they get when they’re confronted with their actions. How complicated being decent and listening becomes.
The stories I know, the stories we see on #MeToo posts, only scratch the surface. All these stories should be unacceptable. Instead they’re normal, the small ones like being hit on against your will or touched by strangers, all those unfair and horrible moments as common as parking tickets.
When I was 16, I met a girl. We were attracted to each other, and ended up in a bed, even though she had a boyfriend back home. Later in the night she changed her mind, and I listened, but have always wondered if I didn’t listen well enough, and if what I had taken for a mutual adventure was actually mixed up in a power dynamic I was too young and selfish to understand. How much harm is caused simply because we assume things and don’t communicate?
When I was 19, and hitchhiking through Europe, a man invited me to get a drink with him at 2 a.m. We didn’t speak the same language. I realized, too late, that he wasn’t taking me to a bar; he was taking me to his house. I knew what that implied, but I figured it’d all work out.
In the middle of the night I awoke to his hand on my shoulder, and I felt, for the first time, a glimmer of what every woman faces: The embarrassment and fear that comes from someone’s advance, and the inability to communicate your way out of it. I’m strong and confident, so situations like this have always ended well for me. I can easily see how they wouldn’t.
As men, our job is to recognize that this kind of abuse is everywhere. To support those who encounter it, and shut down those who perpetuate it. When men react with indifference or scorn or feel personally attacked in the face of this awareness, I understand that. We must examine why we feel that way. We cannot simply assume that it’ll go away, or that we’re misunderstood, that we’re not part of the problem. The issue of unwanted sexual attention is everywhere.
David Eyer Davis is a writer, traveler and works as a film programs coordinator at the Utah Film Center.