A “hostile work environment”

I don’t think I would have considered talking about this, probably ever, if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was doing some training courses for my day job (more on that another time). One of my recerts was workplace sexual harassment. And oooh, boy, did that open a can of worms.

I see a lot of people ask why folks don’t report an incident when it happens, and answers vary. But one thing I don’t see discussed all that often is how it might be difficult to know if harassment has happened.

Last fall, I was working in a particular place for a couple of months. It wasn’t a friendly place to begin with, but there were a few people I connected with and some I could work with comfortably even if we weren’t friends. Being new to the job, I had to rely on others around me for support.

One of the people I considered supportive-but-not-a-friend asked me one day during my lunch break if I had some time. I said sure. In hindsight, I should’ve said no, but it’s not like I could have predicted what happened. He disclosed to me some personal information about his relationship and said he needed a “wife’s perspective.”

What followed was details about his sexual exploits at work in a way that made me uncomfortable. Would I have said it was harassment? Not at the time, no. Weird and awkward, yes. But on the level of a reportable offense? Well, I didn’t report it, so there you go.

Until I watched the training video for a different job (the one I’m currently in). I know I’m being vague, but trust me, when I saw the video, the specific things this person said to me and the way he cornered me alone and manipulated me during the conversation were absolutely and without question harassment.

This is the sort of thing I have dealt with since junior high school. Boys (then) and men (now) tend to say things to me that are definitely not acceptable. Nine times out of ten, it’s someone I barely know: a coworker I just met, a casual acquaintance from a class, a virtual stranger on the internet. There’s also a vastly different tone than a close friend talking about something personal. This includes threatening me or stalking me if I say I’m uncomfortable or I walk away. I once blocked a man on social media for the things he said to me, and he proceeded to stalk my website and send me angry messages because he “opened up” to me and I was being “cruel” for rejecting him.

I really don’t know exactly why this happens. Maybe I’m particularly gullible when it comes to the manipulation tactics these men use to get my attention before they drop the pretense. Maybe they either think of me as “one of the guys” (odd, since I’m definitely not particularly masc) or they see me as an unfuckable sounding board and figure it’s “safe” to tell me their sexual woes. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve written books that include detailed intimacy, particularly queer sex, so people think that I’m available to listen to their real stories.

Some of the problem is that I don’t always recognize the harassment immediately. As I mentioned before, I didn’t even think it was more than just uncomfortable until the specific things said to me came up in the training video. The people who have done this to me often phrase it in a way that makes me think it’s not that big a deal, at least at first. I once had a man message me because he wanted to thank me for being open-minded. He started off by telling me he’s had a lot of bad experiences with women not liking that he’s bisexual. And of course, I’ll always defend my bi brothers, so I had no problem with him sending me a quick note. Sadly, that exchange ended with him sending me a dick pic.

But I think there’s another layer. Without exception, every single person who has approached me in this way has been from a marginalized community. It’s almost exclusively men, but I have experienced it from a couple of women and a couple of nonbinary people. Only two (to my knowledge) of the men who have done this to me in my adulthood have been cisgender heterosexual, and while most have been white, not all have been. I think that this makes me particularly vulnerable because I try not to be seen as someone unsafe for marginalized folks. Yes, I’m part of some of those communities myself, but I’m also keenly aware of places where I have privilege. So no matter how uncomfortable I might be, I’m wary of doing harm by reporting these incidents or even saying no to lending an ear. I didn’t want to report Dick Pic Guy because I didn’t want him or anyone else to think the problem was his sexuality and not the fact that he sent a perfect stranger an uninvited image of his schlong. On top of that, the one person I told that this had happened excused the behavior and made it clear they did not think I was aware of how things are “really” done in queer circles.

Except that this type of behavior is doing harm to me. Being sexually and romantically liberated does not magically confer the right to exploit other marginalized people, to create unsafe and hostile environments. My work as an author does not make me a therapist or available to anyone who asks. And as much as I know I need to use caution when someone wants to speak to me, that does not in any way excuse the behavior of the other parties involved.

Unless we are good friends, have known each other for years, and have had conversations about many other topics that don’t involve sex, I do not want to hear it. I am not your therapist or your partner. Even if we know each other, please use care when sharing things with me. Ask first, don’t assume. And don’t put me in the position of having to decide if my trauma or yours takes precedence in matters of sex and intimacy. Definitely don’t send me pics of your genitals no matter how well we know each other.