Never again
Since reports detailing decades of alleged sexual harassment and assault by Harvey Weinstein were published last month, nearly 60 women have accused the Hollywood producer of sexual harassment and assault. While the number of allegations against Weinstein are staggering (and nauseating), they pale in comparison to the outpouring by women worldwide who are sharing their stories of being sexually harassed or assaulted in the workplace.
With its virtual megaphone, the #MeToo social media movement is shedding light on the magnitude of sexual predation by men in positions of power. Oscar-winning actresses. Receptionists. Acclaimed writers and reporters. Waitstaff. Elected officials. It is happening to women of all walks of life who are just breaking into their professions, are in the peak of their careers, and everywhere in between.
Many of us who have long remained silent about workplace harassment experiences feared retaliation, felt ashamed, or simply thought no one would believe us. Yes, US. My first job was a
harsh and unwanted introduction into what too many women face at work.
Like many fresh-out-of-college graduates, I had unrealistic expectations of my employability and quickly grew frustrated that my dream of becoming a high-paid sports reporter wasn’t instantaneously coming true. After several months of interviewing, zero call-backs and a stack of rejection letters, I was ready to give up on writing and accept a data entry clerk position until a mentor intervened and suggested I parlay my skills to pursue a career in public relations. He introduced me to several influential players in the sports world who provided me with guidance and leads to entry-level job opportunities. Soon thereafter, I was offered a PR job in a college athletic department. It was a contract position with no benefits and less-than-minimum-wage pay.
With $60,000 in school loan payments looming, my family urged me to take the data entry job. But I jumped at the opportunity to combine my love of sports with writing press releases, media guides and other game-related stories.
I reported on the first day to learn the gentleman who interviewed me for the position, and was to be my supervisor, accepted a job at another college. I was introduced to his replacement, a nerdy guy in his mid-to-late 30s, and was shown to our shared office — a small room located at the back of the school’s main gym. Later that day, while settling into our office, he disclosed that he was relieved to see I was “hot” because he didn’t want to spend his days in such close quarters with someone who wasn’t attractive. I took it as a compliment and laughed it off, notably because he was far from a beauty himself.
As the school year progressed, so did his sexually-charged comments about the female student-athletes’ bodies, along with other off-color remarks and sexual innuendos. His statements made me uncomfortable, but I chalked them up to what I thought was probably typical male workplace behavior in a male-dominated field. Like the “hot” comment, I shrugged it off.
During winter break our office was being painted. I lived across the street from the school library where we could have easily set up shop for the day. However, my supervisor mandated that we work from his apartment 20 miles away. When he answered the door wearing only a towel, I didn’t want to go inside but I didn’t think I had the authority to refuse to. After enduring 30 minutes of sitting at his kitchen table with him nearly naked, I told him I was not feeling well (because I was truly sickened over the situation) and went home. I told a few friends, who thought he sounded like a creep, but I didn’t share it beyond them. I didn’t want to stir up trouble or put my job at risk. We returned to the office the following day with no mention of his inappropriate attire or my sudden illness, so I just put my head down, did my work and pretended it never happened.
Then something happened that I could no longer laugh away or ignore. While on a weekend road trip with one of the sports teams that we were both scheduled to work, my supervisor neglected to book my room reservation and the hotel had no available rooms. I was the only woman who made the 250-mile journey with the team and staff, so there was no one who I could bunk with. The team and coaching staff had already retired to their rooms when he “chivalrously” offered to share his single-bed room with me. He rejected my suggestion that he stay with one of the male coaches or players, so I told him I’d find more appropriate accommodations.
I was 23 and earning a $1,000 monthly stipend. I didn’t have $100 available credit on a card, let alone enough cash in my wallet to find another hotel and rent my own room for the night. And I was too proud to call home and report the troubles I encountered on the job I was advised not to take. Unsure of what to do, or where to turn, I grabbed my bag and spent the night sitting in the hotel’s stairwell. (Thankfully I connected with an acquaintance who worked for the opposing team/lived nearby and let me stay on his couch the next night.) I cried for several hours, questioning if I did something to deserve this treatment, and then worked the next day alongside this man and endured a 4-hour bus ride home with him, again like nothing had happened.
But something did happen. I felt violated. I also felt like I was to blame because I had not spoken up when the initial red flag was raised several months before.
I didn’t show up for work that Monday. Or Tuesday. In fact, I never showed my face again. I was too ashamed to share with anyone in authority his actions over the previous weekend or during the many months prior. I instead let my employer and colleagues assume that I was unprofessional, irresponsible and quit without explanation. At the time it was the less excruciating route for me, but as I’ve looked back it has pained me to think that I allowed his inappropriate behavior and unwanted advances to reflect poorly upon me, rather than upon himself.
My first job may have been a harsh introduction to the “real world” and my first, most egregious, experience of workplace sexual harassment. But sadly, it wasn’t the only time. Even 20 years later, as I’ve climbed to what’s considered the top rung on the corporate ladder, I still am on the receiving end of less-than-professional comments or behavior. But it was the one, and final, time I sat back, shrugged it off or let another in the workplace sexually intimidate or degrade me.
I didn’t decide to share my experience to expose a creep, seek an apology or any type of justice. My hope is that by adding yet one more story to the growing social media dialogue, I might connect with just one woman who will recognize that first red flag and encourage her to speak up. I also hope that at least one man reads this and it encourages him to think or act differently.
Though I should be slugging this column with a “Me Too” hashtag, I’ll instead give it something that I hope all women who have experienced workplace sexual harassment can unite in typing — #NEVERAGAIN.
Since reports detailing decades of alleged sexual harassment and assault by Harvey Weinstein were published last month, nearly 60 women have accused the Hollywood producer of sexual harassment and assault. While the number of allegations against Weinstein are staggering (and nauseating), they pale in comparison to the outpouring by women worldwide who are sharing their stories of being sexually harassed or assaulted in the workplace.
With its virtual megaphone, the #MeToo social media movement is shedding light on the magnitude of sexual predation by men in positions of power. Oscar-winning actresses. Receptionists. Acclaimed writers and reporters. Waitstaff. Elected officials. It is happening to women of all walks of life who are just breaking into their professions, are in the peak of their careers, and everywhere in between.
Many of us who have long remained silent about workplace harassment experiences feared retaliation, felt ashamed, or simply thought no one would believe us. Yes, US. My first job was a
harsh and unwanted introduction into what too many women face at work.
Like many fresh-out-of-college graduates, I had unrealistic expectations of my employability and quickly grew frustrated that my dream of becoming a high-paid sports reporter wasn’t instantaneously coming true. After several months of interviewing, zero call-backs and a stack of rejection letters, I was ready to give up on writing and accept a data entry clerk position until a mentor intervened and suggested I parlay my skills to pursue a career in public relations. He introduced me to several influential players in the sports world who provided me with guidance and leads to entry-level job opportunities. Soon thereafter, I was offered a PR job in a college athletic department. It was a contract position with no benefits and less-than-minimum-wage pay.
With $60,000 in school loan payments looming, my family urged me to take the data entry job. But I jumped at the opportunity to combine my love of sports with writing press releases, media guides and other game-related stories.
I reported on the first day to learn the gentleman who interviewed me for the position, and was to be my supervisor, accepted a job at another college. I was introduced to his replacement, a nerdy guy in his mid-to-late 30s, and was shown to our shared office — a small room located at the back of the school’s main gym. Later that day, while settling into our office, he disclosed that he was relieved to see I was “hot” because he didn’t want to spend his days in such close quarters with someone who wasn’t attractive. I took it as a compliment and laughed it off, notably because he was far from a beauty himself.
As the school year progressed, so did his sexually-charged comments about the female student-athletes’ bodies, along with other off-color remarks and sexual innuendos. His statements made me uncomfortable, but I chalked them up to what I thought was probably typical male workplace behavior in a male-dominated field. Like the “hot” comment, I shrugged it off.
During winter break our office was being painted. I lived across the street from the school library where we could have easily set up shop for the day. However, my supervisor mandated that we work from his apartment 20 miles away. When he answered the door wearing only a towel, I didn’t want to go inside but I didn’t think I had the authority to refuse to. After enduring 30 minutes of sitting at his kitchen table with him nearly naked, I told him I was not feeling well (because I was truly sickened over the situation) and went home. I told a few friends, who thought he sounded like a creep, but I didn’t share it beyond them. I didn’t want to stir up trouble or put my job at risk. We returned to the office the following day with no mention of his inappropriate attire or my sudden illness, so I just put my head down, did my work and pretended it never happened.
Then something happened that I could no longer laugh away or ignore. While on a weekend road trip with one of the sports teams that we were both scheduled to work, my supervisor neglected to book my room reservation and the hotel had no available rooms. I was the only woman who made the 250-mile journey with the team and staff, so there was no one who I could bunk with. The team and coaching staff had already retired to their rooms when he “chivalrously” offered to share his single-bed room with me. He rejected my suggestion that he stay with one of the male coaches or players, so I told him I’d find more appropriate accommodations.
I was 23 and earning a $1,000 monthly stipend. I didn’t have $100 available credit on a card, let alone enough cash in my wallet to find another hotel and rent my own room for the night. And I was too proud to call home and report the troubles I encountered on the job I was advised not to take. Unsure of what to do, or where to turn, I grabbed my bag and spent the night sitting in the hotel’s stairwell. (Thankfully I connected with an acquaintance who worked for the opposing team/lived nearby and let me stay on his couch the next night.) I cried for several hours, questioning if I did something to deserve this treatment, and then worked the next day alongside this man and endured a 4-hour bus ride home with him, again like nothing had happened.
But something did happen. I felt violated. I also felt like I was to blame because I had not spoken up when the initial red flag was raised several months before.
I didn’t show up for work that Monday. Or Tuesday. In fact, I never showed my face again. I was too ashamed to share with anyone in authority his actions over the previous weekend or during the many months prior. I instead let my employer and colleagues assume that I was unprofessional, irresponsible and quit without explanation. At the time it was the less excruciating route for me, but as I’ve looked back it has pained me to think that I allowed his inappropriate behavior and unwanted advances to reflect poorly upon me, rather than upon himself.
My first job may have been a harsh introduction to the “real world” and my first, most egregious, experience of workplace sexual harassment. But sadly, it wasn’t the only time. Even 20 years later, as I’ve climbed to what’s considered the top rung on the corporate ladder, I still am on the receiving end of less-than-professional comments or behavior. But it was the one, and final, time I sat back, shrugged it off or let another in the workplace sexually intimidate or degrade me.
I didn’t decide to share my experience to expose a creep, seek an apology or any type of justice. My hope is that by adding yet one more story to the growing social media dialogue, I might connect with just one woman who will recognize that first red flag and encourage her to speak up. I also hope that at least one man reads this and it encourages him to think or act differently.
Though I should be slugging this column with a “Me Too” hashtag, I’ll instead give it something that I hope all women who have experienced workplace sexual harassment can unite in typing — #NEVERAGAIN.
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