Archives for September 2015

Maryah Converse, New York, USA, SSH Blog Correspondent

“Do you think that women can be their own worst enemies? When they act as if the harassment were a compliment, or don’t speak up. Aren’t you your own worst enemies?” asked a man in the audience after a performance of #SpeakUp: The Street Harassment Play.

I did not just assume his good intentions, as Flux Theater Ensemble’s “Rules of Engagement” asked us to do in the facilitated discussion after the performance. I felt his good intentions, saw it in the dismay on his face at the reactions of all the women in the circle.

I thought, how many times have I said this to myself? “You shouldn’t have walked away. You should have stood up to that man. You’re your own worst enemy, woman!”

Then I remind myself that it is a psychological defense mechanism. I cannot confront or even take seriously every incident of street harassment in my life. I would have no time or energy for anything else. And sometimes—no, often it is physically dangerous. On my computer, I have a quote by the writer Margaret Atwood: “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” I hate that she is right.

Some of the others in our circle have responded to his well-intentioned but jarring question. Then Shaun Bennet Fauntleroy said, “The worst enemy is the one who makes us feel small.” It felt like the perfect note to end our discussion.

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Bennet Fauntleroy was not just the facilitator of our discussion group. She is also the woman behind the event, #SpeakUp: The Street Harassment Plays, and wrote one of the seven short monologues in the project.

Each of the monologues approached harassment from the many ways that women respond, all different, all equally valid. The second piece, “Just the Way It Is” by Nicole Pandolfo, was the only male voice, and it provoked that too-common fear response. There is the trauma response of the seventh voice, “What I Would Do to You” by Maria Alexandria Beech.

The third voice, “God Bless You Mama: A Woman’s Guide to the World” by Sol Crespo, was by far the funniest. The text dripped with sarcasm, on the verge of farce, but was played absolutely straight by Holly Chou. With heartfelt innocent sincerity, she declares, “If he hadn’t reminded me to smile, I would never have known I had the ability … or the permission!” She keeps declaring with a bright smile, “Men are SO HELPFUL!”

I could not help but notice that the loudest laughter in the room came from the men. Every time I laughed, I felt guilty, because under the humor, this can be deadly serious.

The fifth voice was like a punch in the gut. I knew from the first sentence that this was the work of Lauren Ferebee, titled “Rogue Agent.” It was no surprise that my friend Lauren would want to write a theater short for a production of this kind. Another full-length play of hers, “Somewhere Safer,” is a nuanced reflection on terrorism and the wars in Afghanistan and Syria, gender, and the choices we have to make between morality and making a living.

Here in “Rogue Agent” was the anger response to harassment, raging against the machine. “I never wanted to be a woman writer,” the narrator spits out, played with the perfect low, gravelly voice by Hanna Cheek.

I asked Lauren about her piece, and she described the lack of women’s voices in the standard literary canon, saying, “To me, the silence of women artists across history is, on a structural level, related to the silence of a woman who has been called out over and over again in public. On a societal and personal level, women who live, write and work in the public space are told over and over again ‘you don’t belong here.’ I struggle with having internalized that voice telling me that I don’t belong here, and I struggle with having internalized that larger dynamic that my work doesn’t belong here.”

When I asked Lauren why she chose theater as the medium for her message, she said she wanted to tell audiences “that it’s ok to be impacted by those experiences. It’s ok to be angry. And that we should be angry, whether anyone tells us it’s ok or not.”

That is exactly what I heard in her piece in the lines, “All I ever learned about anger was to turn it into a secret … so I talk.”

Maryah works for the Unitarian Church of All Souls in New York City where she has provided particular leadership in the Racial Justice Initiative. She has an MA in Near Eastern Languages and Cultures, and was a Fellow at the Center for Arabic Study Abroad in Cairo.  Read her blog “Arabs I’ve Known.”

Sara Conklin, Washington, DC, USA, SSH Blog Correspondent

This weekend I was feeling particularly enraged about a viral video called Dear Fat People by YouTube comic, Nicole Arbour. In this video of self-proclaimed satire, “fat shaming” is heralded as something of a favor to people; if you can shame people enough, they might just lose weight.

I don’t know what universe Nicole Arbour lives in where shaming any person in any matter is considered a service to society, but I am proud to say I don’t live in the same one.

Unfortunately, the internet isn’t the only place where body image harassment exists. My first blog post was about an incident of street harassment I experienced where the line between objectification and sexism was blurred with a spewed statement of body hate.

This is a scenario that happens all too often – sexualized hecklings with specific references to one’s appearance and particularly, a woman’s curves.

I should be clear that it is neither my goal nor do I have enough time to discuss the myriad of ways in which people of all sizes and genders experience harassment in public spaces. But what I can begin to consider are the ways in which women of a certain body type experience public harassment differently, and I can do so by reflecting on my own experiences.

As Nicole Arbour so unabashedly points out in her gruesome video, plus-size women (or as I will start referring to as women) can be treated like public property, as if our bodies incentivize more of an invitation than others. A harassment perpetrator might feel like it is their privilege to point out a descriptive observation that they just don’t like, i.e. “move that fat ass along.” Melissa A. Fabello the Managing Editor of Everyday Feminism, points out that, “So long as people believe that ‘concern trolling’—harassing and threatening people under the guise of being concerned for their health;—is acceptable, attitudes like this one will not only exist, but also thrive.” Perhaps even to the extent of a “well-intentioned” blonde on YouTube projecting hate to hundreds of thousands of viewers.

In the words of another YouTube comic, Meghan Tonjes, that video was “lazy comedy wrapped in health concern trolling tied in a f***ing privilege bow.”

The sad truth: the street harassment I have experienced is most often directly related to the size of some part of my body or the way an outfit fits on it. So, what is the difference between being harassed by a comedian’s video online and being told to move my fat ass on the street? Not a lot. Both perpetuate and let flourish the notion that “calling out” people who don’t fit a certain qualifying personal descriptor makes them less than and makes them a target for words used to demean people. If you don’t believe that’s even possible, check out the brilliant photographer Haley Morris-Cafiero who captured reactions to her body in public.

We need to shake up the idea that all harassment is the same stereotype: a come-on from the guy in the hard hat to the girl in the short skirt. Truthfully, harassment in public spaces comes in more varieties than we have words to describe it. But, what is lacking in variety are the tools to combat harassment that is guised as body shaming.

I’m always reading articles about women who have witty and poignant comebacks to street harassers. I’d like to think of myself as one of those women. On most days I have an allegorical potluck of shutdowns in my head. But why, when I am directly insulted about the size of my body, do I fall silent? I feel powerless. Perhaps more of our empowering messages to women don’t always require literal references to situational street harassment. It might start at a place deeper-rooted and intrinsically engrained — It might start with body acceptance. It’s worth thinking that if I loved my whole self a little more and was aided in this self-actualization by the world around me, the allegorical potluck could be reeling with comebacks of body positive statements instead of contrived defense mechanisms.

Truthfully, my body does not occupy nearly enough space to be of such a mental occupation to you. Yet, every time you make a comment in regards to it, there is a power dynamic shift. I won’t stand by and let anyone feel powerless because of the way someone sees them. I’m worth more than your lazy and privileged comments in any public space, online or otherwise.

Sara works in fundraising events at an organization that empowers women who face homelessness through recovery, wellness training, and housing. She runs her own photography company (saraconklinphotography.com) and a popular website that seeks to connect the world through pictures, sarapose.com.