Some very good advice from Mark Evanier on not taking offense on behalf of others, and from Kath David on staking out the moral high ground. I'm not sure whether either bit of advice can be applied to the reactions to another public groping episode, this time at WorldCon. From my WorldCon experiences a couple lifetimes ago I recall there was lots of private consensual gropage going on, but that's a horse of a way different color. Seeing as how Thinking People usually consider the public variety to be nonconsensual (regardless of whether the "grope-ee," aware she's on camera, elects to behave as though it's consensual for the sake of good humor or face-saving or because she feels she has no choice), and, in any case, without any context other than the TV shot or tape they're watching, I should imagine gropers would refrain from exercising certain impulses in a public forum except if they have some sort of problem that disables their id or something. And even then, you know, it's still wrong.
Because, as Lisa points out, "It all combines to tell us that we are not welcome there," that the primary function of women at a mixed-group event is as available playthings and adjuncts for men (i.e., The Other), and only secondarily as friends or peers (i.e., People). It's the same sort of raging frustration I felt at that long-ago CAPA-Alpha dinner in San Diego when one of the members was feted for his birthday by others hiring a stripper. As one of the only women participating in that comics apa at the time, I'd had it made clear to me on a number of occasions that my kind (the xx-chromosome variety) wasn't exactly wanted, and this sort of sealed it.
And I don't think I was taking offense on behalf of someone else (like the stripper, in a world where female strippers = prurience and male strippers still = goofy laughs, or other restaurant patrons), I was offended because I realized, at long last, that my fellow apans couldn't care less about my comfort level and never even gave the hiring enough forethought to inform me about it beforehand, when I could have excused myself and, of course, missed out on the comradery of being with people that, despite a few faults, I generally liked.
Because so often that's the choice we're given now. Either participate in a social event that's often the highlight of the overall experience you're attending and ignore something at that event that makes you uncomfortable, or leave. And most of the time when this happens, I'll acknowledge that I'm the one with the problem watching women gyrating for male pleasure in a public venue, and I'll reluctantly excuse myself, consequently missing, say, the First Annual Wizard Awards at a convention where I'm helping run programming (ComicFest '93) because the ushers/trophy holders are all Hollywoodized bimbettes with their assets hanging out (i.e., "No Girls Allowed"), or a dinner for a friend where a stripper shows up unexpectedly, or any number of other fun things made sour for me by exploitation of the female body.
And after awhile, even though I know it's my own personal discomfort which I acknowledge isn't shared by everyone else (not even other women), it happens often enough that it starts to become more of a pattern than an aberration. And I wind up either squirming and looking away or severely curtailing my social life. And I resent that something that happens this often is almost always turned around, when I do voice my mild objections, to make me feel like it's my fault. So I continue to take the choice not implicitly given (because nobody likes to hang out with boat-rockers), the choice to get angry about it and to speak up.
And that's why I think a lot of folks wind up taking offense on behalf of others. Because we suspect we're not the only ones made uncomfortable in circumstances where it would be just as easy to avoid giving discomfort if the perpetrators gave their actions just a couple more seconds of forethought in the belief that, you know, other people mattered. And we feel like we need to speak up not only for ourselves but on behalf of those who stilllie back and enjoy it grin and bear it, or just "go along to get along" because they'd rather not call attention to themselves.
Because, as Lisa points out, "It all combines to tell us that we are not welcome there," that the primary function of women at a mixed-group event is as available playthings and adjuncts for men (i.e., The Other), and only secondarily as friends or peers (i.e., People). It's the same sort of raging frustration I felt at that long-ago CAPA-Alpha dinner in San Diego when one of the members was feted for his birthday by others hiring a stripper. As one of the only women participating in that comics apa at the time, I'd had it made clear to me on a number of occasions that my kind (the xx-chromosome variety) wasn't exactly wanted, and this sort of sealed it.
And I don't think I was taking offense on behalf of someone else (like the stripper, in a world where female strippers = prurience and male strippers still = goofy laughs, or other restaurant patrons), I was offended because I realized, at long last, that my fellow apans couldn't care less about my comfort level and never even gave the hiring enough forethought to inform me about it beforehand, when I could have excused myself and, of course, missed out on the comradery of being with people that, despite a few faults, I generally liked.
Because so often that's the choice we're given now. Either participate in a social event that's often the highlight of the overall experience you're attending and ignore something at that event that makes you uncomfortable, or leave. And most of the time when this happens, I'll acknowledge that I'm the one with the problem watching women gyrating for male pleasure in a public venue, and I'll reluctantly excuse myself, consequently missing, say, the First Annual Wizard Awards at a convention where I'm helping run programming (ComicFest '93) because the ushers/trophy holders are all Hollywoodized bimbettes with their assets hanging out (i.e., "No Girls Allowed"), or a dinner for a friend where a stripper shows up unexpectedly, or any number of other fun things made sour for me by exploitation of the female body.
And after awhile, even though I know it's my own personal discomfort which I acknowledge isn't shared by everyone else (not even other women), it happens often enough that it starts to become more of a pattern than an aberration. And I wind up either squirming and looking away or severely curtailing my social life. And I resent that something that happens this often is almost always turned around, when I do voice my mild objections, to make me feel like it's my fault. So I continue to take the choice not implicitly given (because nobody likes to hang out with boat-rockers), the choice to get angry about it and to speak up.
And that's why I think a lot of folks wind up taking offense on behalf of others. Because we suspect we're not the only ones made uncomfortable in circumstances where it would be just as easy to avoid giving discomfort if the perpetrators gave their actions just a couple more seconds of forethought in the belief that, you know, other people mattered. And we feel like we need to speak up not only for ourselves but on behalf of those who still
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