The American psyche is engrossed with another spectacle involving a powerful men and young women. While this is a long-standing cultural issue, it reached new heights of public display in 1991 with Anita Hill and Clarence Thomas. Later came Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Now it is Donald Trump and his history of groping females and intruding into their privacy. Male entitlement has a long history and once again we are involved in examining our cultural standards. “Character is what you do when no one is watching,” John Wooden, the basketball coach once said. Character counts. Or in these cases, “Character is what you do when you believe you can get away with it.”
In my practice as a psychologist, I get the opportunity to work with many women (and some men) with abuse histories. Working through a past assault is a difficult and painful endeavor, with complex effects on the victim. It is not just the physical act of having one’s personal boundaries shattered. The physical perpetration is only one damaging aspect of it all. Equally important is the meaning women make of what has happened to them: “What does this act say about who I am?” “Why me?” “Did I invite or provoke these events?” “Am I damaged now?” The relationship between victim and perpetrator is complicated.
The transgression is embedded in a complex web of connection, approval seeking, dependency, as well as positive feelings. Often, there is a power differential, with the victim dependent on the perpetrator. Victims are left with a shattered sense of trust and deep seated fears of the triggers that surrounded the actual event. Dark parking lots, a certain bedroom ceiling, pieces of music now have the power to rush them right back to the emotional nightmare they have experienced. Finally, victims wrestle with the bystander question: “Why did nobody intervene?” “Why did no-one believe me?” “How was this possible – why was there no help?” Or, worse: “Why could I not speak up?” The belief in basic dignity, the belief in the righteousness of those in authority, the trust in our communities, all are broken. Often, the truth is not welcomed. It requires great courage to speak truth to power. Doing so can demand too much, seem hopeless with dire consequences: Families risk to be broken up, jobs will be lost, opportunities evaporate, economic security dissolves and expensive legal battles may need to be fought.
“Is speaking my truth worth the upheaval it will cause?” the victim asks. Often, the rational answer is “No,” which relegates the nightmare back to the private struggle once again. Right here is the place where things need to change.
Protecting victims requires the creation of a culture that truly hears the victim and takes them seriously.
For too long it has been the women coming in after the men’s transgressions and cleaning up: Staying silent, “stay by your man,” repair the broken relationships in order to make the next Thanksgiving dinner or company party less awkward or even possible. Hillary Clinton has done her share of clean-up after her husband. His past forces her to be silent on the present issue. If we allow the leaders of our country to get away with what powerful men always get away with, then we all become bystanders. We openly condone violence against women, be it on college campus, in the military, in our organizations or, most painfully, in our families. If our School Board hired a teacher with a history of sexual transgressions, the like of a Donald Trump, we would sue them. He cannot become our next president. Our daughters deserve better. The men in our country request better. I certainly do.
Paul Frehner is a licensed psychologist in New Hampshire.