Yesterday in the office I received a lengthy business-related phone call from a man who then came into the office today and began telling me about the issue all over again while he waited for Boss-Man to come to the front.
I stopped him with a smile to say, "I was the one you spoke with yesterday, Mr. ____."
He pointed at me. "That was you."
"Yes."
"Oh," he said, with a leer. "The sexy one."
There are not words sufficient enough to express how much I hate these kinds of incidents. I find that word, from a stranger, extremely offensive – how much more blatantly can it be stated that to him I am only a body on display for perusal? And why must he state that at all?
Yet even when the word is less offensive – pretty, beautiful, etc. – I find the situation uncomfortable. I don't know these men. They're not my friends; I'm not dating them. I’m not at a bar; I’m at work. If I were in a bar, I would be able to respond more freely; but since, at work, I am restricted to professionalism, I can do nothing but a.) become freezingly polite; b.) try to find something to do, preferably out of the room, where I don't have to look at the man in question; or c.) attempt to pretend that I’m not bothered by what feels like a kind of coercion, since I’m in a situation where a man is not acting like a gentleman, but, as I can do nothing to tell him so, I must act as though his actions weren’t rude, suggestive, and inappropriate.
Strangely it’s usually the older men who act this way; men closer to my age or younger tend toward a politeness we’re taught not to expect from our generation. If I’m sitting on my front porch, which faces the road, and someone drives by honking, he’s most likely over forty; if someone drives by and waves, he’s in his thirties or younger. (Teenagers are a coin toss.)
I don’t fault humanity for its sex drive; almost everyone has it, and I don’t have a problem with men in general; I like guys a lot. But I don’t like feeling, from specific individuals, that I’ve suddenly been reduced to the mental role of stripper in an environment where I have every right to feel professional and safe. These little instances make a girl feel embarrassed, powerless and soiled. They make a girl feel ashamed.
I don’t like that our culture has done this to us. To all of us, men and women alike. There’s something horribly wrong with this era of supposedly outspoken freedom. It's freedom in all the wrong ways.
5 comments:
I completely relate. I hate feeling that I've been reduced to just a body. It's a totally icky feeling, and it pisses me off.
Old skeezebags suck!
You know, and it's not like we don't appreciate appreciation...in its more proper context. There's a time and a place (and a person/people) for such things, but that place is not on the street, and not in the workplace.
And I'm sorry, it's not a compliment to be leered at by a person with an enormous hairy drum of a belly (which can be seen through the gaps between shirt and pants), missing teeth, and a sour smell incorporating many cigarettes and few baths.
But I could deal with all that much more kindly if it weren't for the fact that it happened while I was on the job. What can a girl DO in a situation like that? (Well. Obviously I simmer and rant quite well, but it's not exactly preventative, or reparatory.)
What it boils down to is that, when a person treats you in that fashion, you are watching your worth, your personhood, being deliberately discarded by another human being, and it feels something like murder. (I use "murder" in the Levinasian sense, as I heard it long ago from Marianne.)
IS there an equivalent way that women treat men? Unfortunately in our sexually driven culture, the experience of the female seems to be more prevalent.
I do not think there is a similar way women treat men, but I don't think this treatment we women experience on the job and otherwise has as much to do with our sexually driven culture as it has to do with the ever-persistent theme of women as chattel and sex objects.
I don't know how many times someone (usually a guy) has looked at me and said, "But we really don't have sexism anymore, do we?" to which I reply, "You are obviously not female." Why is it that just because I have a vagina it is somehow OK to make leery comments toward me? It's as if my only sense of worth derives from my body.
It's so important to vocalize our experiences. Keep vocalizing!
PS: I have a new job with a law firm here in Columbia. I'm the new you! Advice welcome.
I think you're right, Linds. The theme HAS been pretty persistent throughout human history.
It was actually hard for me to write this post. Along with the theme has come the feeling of shame and silence -- even guilt -- for experiencing leery treatment by disrespectful men. But it happens to all of us, in one form or another.
So you're the new me! Congratulations! Oh, there's so much to tell you. So. Much.
Two basic principles to live by in a law office:
1. Your work will never be done. You will never leave your desk empty at the end of the day. It's not your fault; it's the nature of the job.
2. STAY SANE. Treat the hectic days like production week in Pew.
Are you in a small or large firm? How many attorneys are you working for?
I'd be delighted to exchange emails, if you'd like.
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