ohhh, the patriarchy...

This experience from my internship as a hospital chaplain in Atlanta during seminary stays with me.

As I was leading a group discussion in the Behavioral Health Unit, a white male patient in his twenties interrupted me comment on my appearance, saying: "I'm very attracted to you."  

I immediately told him his remarks were inappropriate and unwanted, and that if he wanted to remain in the group he had to stay on topic.

I have to confess, I felt bad. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Not knowing his diagnosis, I recognize that he's dealing with some things that I can't imagine, and while I still want to hold him responsible for his actions, I want to also remain compassionate and aware that he might have serious difficulty with reading social cues, knowing what's appropriate, and practicing inhibition.

About ten minutes later, he walked over to where I was sitting, leaned over me, invading my personal space, and said: "I want to have sex with you."

I held up my hand, cut him off before he could say anything further, and said: "That's entirely inappropriate and offensive. You cannot say that to me. You need to leave."

And he left.

At no point in the interaction did I feel physically unsafe or threatened. He did not touch me, and I never felt that his behavior was out of control, or that I was no longer in control of the situation.

That's right. I never felt that I was not in control of an interaction where I was sexually harassed. How's that for being a strong woman in the patriarchy? This incident is not so unique, and I find that instead of simply seeing this as a time when a patient was out of line and forgetting about it, I'm asking myself if I'm content with my reaction and what I could do differently next time that might make me feel better about the way I handle it. Because there will be a next time, and while my self-confidence and self-esteem can be sent into a complicated roller-coaster from an interaction of this nature, I have learned that my emotions and self-worth are most protected when I believe that I responded in strength.

After leaving this patient's unit, I looked in the mirror and considered my appearance. I felt that I had dressed appropriately for my role, and yet, once again, I'm tugging at my shirt, making sure that there's no cleavage. I realize that I’m doing this because I worry if I tell someone what happened, this is what they'll look for: did I tempt him to say these things? Was I dressed too scandalously to minister today?  

I told a male colleague of the interaction and he made certain to mention that I "handled it well." Recognizing that this colleague is kindhearted and respectful and is truly trying to encourage me, I had very mixed feelings about this comment. Why does it matter how I handled it? What if I hadn't handled it well? Why did he need to make that observation - why did he think I needed his approval of my ability to deflect comments of this nature?  

And why didn't I just tell him that? I'm still trying to protect his emotions, because I know that as a dude, he won't understand. I don't want him to think I'm "making a mountain out of a mole-hill" (I really used that phrase when speaking with him); I don't want him to think I'm one of "those" over-sensitive feminist types. I'm strong. I'm powerful, unflappable, a good minister who just happens to be a woman.    

In our conversation, I half-jokingly blamed my colleague for the incident. "It's the patriarchy.  It's your fault, really." He laughed with me, and then in all seriousness agreed.

I do not blame this patient for the discomfort he caused me today. I am angry that our society is such that a young male who suffers from some kind of behavioral or emotional or psychological illness feels entirely comfortable saying whatever he wants to a female. We can learn a lot from the behavior of those who lack inhibition. They show us what we have the potential to be when we are unable to interpret what is and is not appropriate. It would be relatively easy to just chalk this up as an interaction with an ill individual, and at a certain level that is all it is. But, I’m weary of the various categories of excuse I place these interactions into.  

This is what it means to minister while female.  

This is what it means to be a woman - strong or otherwise - in the patriarchy.  

Why is the strength of women even part of the conversation? Of course we're strong - we've been carrying more than our fair share with less recognition and compensation for all of human history.  

It was as I was reflecting on my experience today that I read the words of Eric Trump about his sister, in response to DT's comments about how he would react if Roger Ailes' sexually harassed her:

"Ivanka is a strong, powerful woman, she wouldn’t allow herself to be objected..."

I don't disagree with Ivanka's strength and power. And I don't think Eric is alone in his conclusion. I've already seen some tweeting and such about how this is more evidence of the horror of Trump, and while it's not not that, let's not pretend that Eric (and his father, for that matter) are some fringe minority in their opinions of women.  

Saying a woman's strength is a reason why a man might not harass her is another form of victim blaming because of it's inverse: a woman who allows harassment must be weak. If she were simply stronger, more powerful, this wouldn't have happened.

(Another fantastic double bind from the patriarchy: Please be strong enough that we won't be tempted to take advantage of you but not SO strong that we're scared and no longer attracted to you.)

I regret to inform you, Eric and friends, that of those strong and powerful women you know and love, at least half of them have been victims of sexual harassment, and that's a very conservative estimate. The real number is probably closer to 2 out of 3. Here are a few reasons you may not know about it:

• They told you but you didn't listen.

• They told you but you didn't hear their experience as harassment, and instead thought the unwanted comment or behavior was a joke, or a compliment, and they're over-reacting - so to you, it doesn't count.

• They don't want to tell you because you may no longer think of them as strong and powerful if you knew the truth.

This has already meandered on too long for me to address the reality that Ivanka has already been made into a sexual object, by her father, no less (though, again, he's not alone). And I'll save comments about her complicity in that for another day (for now, suffice it to say that her choosing to present herself as a sexual being still does not make it acceptable for others to objectify her.  No woman deserves to be objectified, regardless of their celebrity. Another double bind.)  

For now, if you're a female, know you're not alone in your struggle to be strong and powerful on your own terms, to avoid unwanted attention, and to "respond well" - whatever that may mean- WHEN harassment happens. If you're a female in ministry or similar field, know that you're not alone in navigating the tension of compassion for other and self.  

And if you're a male, just know that this is complicated, and please listen to our stories. DO NOT tell us how we could have responded better, because frankly you just don't know. You haven't been there. (I'm not saying men are never harassed, I'm saying men don't know what it's like to be a female who is harassed).

And finally, the importance of the form of victim blaming Eric Trump articulated could easily be lost in a heap of Trump hate. Let's not let that happen. DT has found power because he speaks for a portion of our country who feels unheard.  His opinions - and I think it's safe to say that Eric's, in this situation, are quite similar - are the opinions of many. Don't let this articulation of male privilege be ignored because we wish the person who said it was speaking solely for himself: he's not, and that response would be lazy. Instead, I want to work to continue to have a robust conversation about gender and power, and to have the courage to share my experiences even if I would rather forget them.