E. Jean Carroll’s allegation of rape by Donald Trump has once again brought the issue of how much is too much to the fore. She is the sixteenth woman to accuse President Trump of sexual misconduct.
In response to Carroll’s allegations, the president described her as “not my type,” which is supposedly a reason why he wouldn’t have raped her. It’s part of his general demeaning of women, which, unfortunately, has come to be accepted – Just Donald being Donald.
Carroll said she has grown sick of women sharing their experiences of sexual misconduct by the president with no lasting repercussions. Will her revelation finally grip and hold the attention of the American public? Or have women and men become so numb to Trump’s incivility to women, even rape, that Carroll’s allegation will fall on deaf ears?
Carroll’s timing may be suspicious. After all, she is marketing a new book. But let’s assume that her story is true. In fact, it’s possible that it took a book for Carroll to finally share a secret she’s carried for twenty years? She would not be the first woman to suppress such a horrific experience, sharing it with only two friends in her case, and she surely won’t be the last, especially given how few sexual predators pay a just and lasting price.
And why is that? Until we find the answer, change is unlikely.
Jia Tolentino wrote in The New Yorker: Women’s speech is sometimes wielded, in this #MeToo era, as if it were Excalibur—as if the shining, terrible truth about the lives of women will, by itself, vanquish the men who have exploited and controlled them; as if speech were a weapon that protects those who wield it from hurt. Supporters of #MeToo have, on occasion, adhered to this idea in a sort of delusive optimism.”
The powerful don’t fear victims. They fear power greater than their own. To date, women have expected that the unfairness and immorality of letting a president get away with demeaning and even raping women would naturally lead to change. But as I explain when speaking or coaching on the topic of persuasion and negotiation, fairness is not a powerful argument when it doesn’t matter to the people you seek to influence.
Ephrat Livni wrote in Quartz, October 14, 2018 that powerful men have coopted the rhetoric of victims and have rewritten the narratives. Referring also to Tolentino’s observations, Livni explained that powerful men have created scenarios in which they’ve been wronged by accusers who are hysterical, malicious or hopelessly befuddled. They have defined themselves as targets, creating a kind of strategic ambiguity to weaken women’s claims of being the primary victims of sexual assault.
Then there are the quiet detractors. According to The Economist, October 20, 2018, Americans have grown increasingly skeptical of sexual misconduct claims.
“American adults responding that men who sexually harassed women at work 20 years ago should keep their jobs has risen from 28% to 36%. The proportion who think that women who complain about sexual harassment cause more problems than they solve has grown from 29% to 31%. And 18% of Americans now think that false accusations of sexual assault are a bigger problem than attacks that go unreported or unpunished, compared with 13% in November last year.”
So, what’s the answer? How do we turn this numbness toward sexual violence around? It must involve power which the perpetrators understand. In democratic governments, representatives must be pressed to attend to sexual misconduct in their midst, and certainly conducted by their president. Those who condone particularly serious sexual misconduct must be voted out of office. And they need to know now that such an outcome is just over the horizon.
Only power can change the culture of sexual misconduct acceptance so prevalent now. It’s not enough to be appalled. Even occasional marches cannot sustain change. We need to band together, women and men, and make people in power listen no matter their political affiliation. Either they bring about change, or they can pack their bags.
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