I Reported a Superior for Sexual Harassment
I reported a superior for sexual harassment. When I did my phone interview with HR, the woman asked, “Do you feel safe to continue working and living where you are?” At that time, I lived on the campus where I worked. My harasser’s house was about 100 feet away from mine. We shared an outdoor shower and toilet, so he could see me walking back and forth from my house in my towel — already an uncomfortable dynamic to have with a male colleague, let alone someone who has harassed you — but yes, I felt physically safe, so I guess I was fine.
When I shared my experience with a very small circle of people, I found myself not wanting to be “that person” who had been harassed in their workplace. I didn’t want pity or sympathy. I didn’t want to be considered weak for not being able to put up with a few jokes. Nor did I want to be congratulated and considered strong for standing up for myself. I wanted this experience to just go away and for it to have no bearing on my personhood. I found myself saying, “Nothing has happened to me physically, but…” I found myself at times almost wishing that I had been physically harassed in some way. That would make it “easier”: it would be a more clearly unacceptable behavior as defined by our society, instead of the institutionalized banality of rude/sexist/sexual jokes. Then I would find myself feeling like a terrible person for wishing that, as physical and sexual harassment and assault is a horrible reality for far too many people.
Something in me said that I needed to minimize somehow what had happened to me; I needed to reassure others that I was “okay,” because I had not been physically harmed.
No person should become a target because of their gender, whether chosen or assigned at birth. Something in me though — societal influence, the way I was raised, messaging from others, I’m not sure what — said that I had to qualify my situation in that way. Something in me said that I needed to minimize somehow what had happened to me; I needed to reassure others that I was “okay,” because I had not been physically harmed. Even after reading my company’s sexual harassment policy, I felt hesitant, “but it’s not…” “but he didn’t…” My sister had to be the one to say, “it’s creating an offensive and hostile work environment,” which yes, is sexual harassment.
I know now from my research that sexual harassment does explicitly include things such as “derogatory remarks about an employee’s gender,” or “making jokes toward a person because of a protected characteristic,” that “creates an intimidating, hostile, or offensive work environment.” Then again, I instinctively knew from the beginning that my colleague’s jokes were not okay. I knew that they made me uncomfortable and made me avoid him as much as possible (which was difficult to do since several aspects of my job required frequent approval from him). Yet I was the one initially willing to write his comments off as “just” jokes.
There were a few levels to my initial silence. First, I think I was too stunned to react in the moment. Second, I was new. New to the job, new to the country. I didn’t want to “ruffle any feathers.” I thought maybe he just had a perverse sense of humor and that I would just have to tolerate that. Finally, I didn’t feel empowered, professionally or personally. Professionally, he was second-in-charge and I worked most closely with him. Personally, I had been raised to respect my elders and not question authority. I had been taught to walk away from bad situations instead of to stand up for myself. I had been taught not to make a scene.
Instead, I found myself reticent and embarrassed to tell friends, and even more hesitant to talk to HR for fear of blowing things out of proportion.
I should have walked around with a megaphone announcing that this man had made inappropriate comments to me in the workplace. I should not have hesitated to stand up for myself to him or to go to HR. Instead, I found myself reticent and embarrassed to tell friends, and even more hesitant to talk to HR for fear of blowing things out of proportion. What did it say about me that I had failed to stand up to him, that I had felt too scared/timid to stand up to him, that I had been willing to write off his comments for months?
The question that weighed heavily on me initially was why had it not been instilled in me to instinctively demand respect? Why are we not teaching all young women to demand respect? That is what I wrote when I first drafted this. My second read-through showed me that is still the wrong thinking. We should not only be asking, “Why are we not teaching young girls to demand respect?” but also, “Why are we teaching boys that girls do not merit respect?” Why are we teaching boys that girls are any different from them — smaller, weaker, stupider? That women are objects rather than equals? And why do society and certain organizational structures intimidate people out of speaking up against harassment? If it is so ugly of a crime that we cannot bear to look at it, we should be doing everything in our power to root it out, expose it, and put an end to it, instead of putting up barriers to justice and intimidating people out of speaking up. A briefing paper published in 2018 by the Women’s Institute for Policy Research estimates that only one in ten who experience harassment make a formal report due to access barriers, embarrassment, or fear of retaliation, a justified fear considering that in 2017 the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunities Commission (EEOC) found that 71% of cases included retaliation charges.
Neither my supervisor nor HR ever asked me how I was doing, how it was impacting my work or mental state, or if they could offer any support. Neither of them said, “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.” During my official complainant interview with HR, they asked, “What would be an ideal course of action for you?” I was completely thrown by this question. Not being familiar with the sexual harassment-reporting process I wondered, is that a standard question? I would not presume to decide an appropriate jail term for someone who committed a crime against me. I would testify and leave the decision-making to the jury and judge. I felt that how I answered it said something about who I am as a person. If I said, “In my ideal world, you would fire him and I would never see him again,” would that make me an unreasonable, over-reactive, terrible person? Because, if I were honest, if I were wishing upon a genie, that is exactly what I wanted. But I was not wishing on a genie; I was filing a formal complaint with someone who manages my employee file. So instead, I mumbled something along the lines of, “For no other person to have to experience this again.” That seemed honest enough while remaining professional and protecting myself so that I could not somehow be interpreted as “vindictive.” If the goal of the question was to make me feel empowered, it had the opposite effect. I felt that it put the burden on me, the harassed, to act as judge, thereby relieving my organization of the responsibility to define consequences of inappropriate behavior in the work place.
As I finished up my interview with HR, they said, “We have a no-retaliation clause, and he is also not to talk about the case with you. So, if you feel like he is making your work hard, or does anything else inappropriate, or if he tries to say anything about the case, please let me know.” “Okay,” I replied, taking a deep breath. What else was there to say? Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.
My case concluded as I expected it would — a note will be added to his file and no one in the organization who was not involved will be any the wiser. His poor behavior, and subsequently character and reputation, will be protected. I am fortunate that all I experienced were “just” jokes and inappropriate comments. Because of this experience, I feel more empowered. I will not hesitate to speak out against someone’s inappropriate behavior in the future. I will not be intimidated/embarrassed/shamed out of using my voice again. I should not have had to get sexually harassed to feel this way. We should be empowering employees in the workplace. We should be empowering young girls to grow into powerful women. We should be teaching young boys that girls are to be respected, not objectified. I hope by sharing, other women will know that standing up for themselves is not complaining. It is not being weak, quite the opposite. As much as I want to leave this chapter behind, I firmly believe that the more we speak out, the more change we will bring about.
