Poll #1853037
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: None, participants: 92

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A friend-of-a-friend needs help and/or work (she's an experienced copy editor)

Feel free to visit her journal to learn more but, long story short: insane insurance costs, dire medical issues and the goddamn state can't/won't do a thing for her.

http://editrx.livejournal.com/

It seems that ReaderCon also rocks at genderfail. Sigh.

By rax: Readercon: This Isn't The Only Reason Not To Go.

Filter: public

In the comments to my entry of last night, kest reminded me of an anecdote I wanted to share.

Some of y'all have already heard this. Some of y'all were present when it happened and I know I blogged about it shortly after the incident, but I think it bears re-telling.

I was at a convention in 2008 - a small event of not more than 500 people or so. As is per usual at this sort of thing, folks would hang out in the lobby of the hotel after programming was done for the night and shoot the shit, knock back a few beverages, etc. Much conversation, some flirtation and, I'm sure, some hooking-up occurred.

There was a guy there, whom we shall call Asshat for reasons that are about to become obvious.

Asshat was trying, oh was he trying to make it with the ladies. But instead of succeeding, he was checking off every box on the How to be a Creep bingo card. He wouldn't respect personal space. He touched women without asking. He offered (and offered, and offered) to give women back rubs and foot rubs and would persist with the offer, even when turned down. And, as the night progressed, he got extremely drunk (even by my standards, it was pretty epic) and increasingly pushy.

At one point, I was having a great conversation with a fantastic costumer I had just met. Let's call her V.. V is extremely talented and I was dying to pick her brains. She was also very pretty and apparently unaccompanied. About ten minutes into the conversation, Asshat comes barreling towards as V looks panicked and disgusted and says "Oh my god, this guy. I can't stand him. Excuse me." and she fled for the elevators.

Me? I ended up talking to the guy for I don't know how long. Over an hour, trying to get it through his head that he was on a hiding to nowhere. Furthermore, I deliberately decided to throw myself on the grenade for the team. If I was occupying his attention - and I was one of his targets for the evening - that meant he wouldn't be harassing anyone else. It was not the most fun I've ever had at LobbyCon.

Finally, I convince the guy that he needs to go to bed - no, thank you, I'm not coming with you - and he goes.

Me? I was pissed at having to spend a chunk of my evening like that, furious at Asshat for being an ass and bloody annoyed that the only solution that I thought was tenable was to throw myself on that grenade and talk and talk and talk to him instead of saying "Dude.You're a creep. You've managed to alienate pretty much every woman in the room. Fuck off." Any why didn't I say that? Because I had no way of telling if this guy would retreat with his tail between his legs and/or physically assault me either then-and-there, or at a later point in the weekend. But I've gone over that, already...

The next day. several people - male and female - approach me and say "Wow, Johanna. That guy was a real ass. If he bugs you again tonight, you just let me know and I'll step in."

My reaction to these declarations wasn't simple. Several thoughts ran through my head simultaneously:
1) You noticed that I was being bothered by Asshat, last night, but you didn't step up at the time. Thanks a heap. And I'm sure all the other women you saw him bothering are pleased, too.
2) Since when do you get to decide that I need rescuing?
3) Oh, thank god, I won't have to handle Asshat alone, tonight.

And then I felt ashamed for getting angry about #2.

There have been times when I've sought rescue, and there have been times when people have appointed themselves my shining knight - even when I didn't need one. But I got over feeling bad about feeling angry. And the whole who decides who needs rescuing in an uncertain social situation is a thorny problem and merits discussion all by itself. It'll come, believe me. But I'm digressing...

Anyways.

In the end, Asshat was so badly hungover after that night, he remained invisible for the rest of the convention. I heard rumor that he realized he had fucked up and was, in fact, hiding out. But I don't believe that rumor was true.

Why? Because the next year, Asshat emails me a couple of weeks before the next instance of the event (I let him have my email address because I have trouble enforcing my boundaries, remember?) and he told me that he was, indeed, just too hungover to socialize at the convention the next night and, by the way, he was so looking forward to meeting up with those lovely ladies of the event again and did I have any tips for how he could avoid getting shot down so hard this time around?

There was also some babbling about having been on medication that aggravated the effects of alcohol and oopsie and but I'm a nice guy!, too.

So I let him have it. Politely, to be sure, but I told him that he had been a creep at LobbyCon and the best thing he could do was not try flirting with the "lovely ladies". Indeed, don't even talk to them. Wait for them to come to him, if they were going to which, to be honest, was rather unlikely...

Cue: approximately half a dozen rounds of email in which he defends himself with "But I'm a nice guy!" and "I'm just trying to pay these pretty gals a compliment, I don't get what the fuss is?" and "How am I supposed to make new friends (translated: hook up) if I don't talk to anyone?" and I keep repeating the same don't-be-a-creep points over and over.

I hoped some of it sunk in, but I think what really got to him was the rumor that reached me - and him - that if one person, one person complained about his behavior at the next LobbyCon, he was going to get thrown out so fast and so hard, his ass would bounce on the sidewalk. As I recall, he was there when the con rolled around a few weeks later, but generally kept to himself. To be honest, this time I did line up a few would-be rescuers in advance and, whenever I saw him floating around the edges of the heaving mass of LobbyCon I - and many other women, I'm sure - turned my back on him and threw myself into whatever conversation I was having with even more gusto. Anyone who had been there the year before immediately picked up on the situation - there's those non verbal cues again - and we all pulled together to exclude Asshat.

Was Asshat clueless? Based on the email conversations we had, I think so. Was Asshat also malicious? Yes. I don't believe that the terms clueless and malicious are mutually exclusive. Some folks talk like that's the case, but they're wrong.

The sad and horrible thing is that guys like Asshat are everywhere. They're at conventions, they're on the bus, they're at the workplace. And so we end up with situations like Shrodinger's Rapist.


***

A quick postscript on non-verbal communication and deciding whether or not to step into an encounter to break it up because you think someone is being harassed. I apologize for the awkward structure, but I'm trying to keep it gender neutral, for obvious reasons.

ETA: I'm assuming a situation like a SF/F convention, not a random encounter on the street. Different rules apply. But some principles are universal.

Watch the encounter.

Is one person physically backing off from the other - and the other keeps trying to close that space? Is the person who's backing off trying to turn their back on the encounter?

Does the aggressor keep reaching out to touch the other person, despite being shrugged off?

Is the possible-victim looking around the space, trying to make eye contact with someone, anyone?

They are? Then make that eye-contact and pay attention to what happens next. I have managed to summon more help with a quick eye-roll - or a widening of my eyes - and a momentary downturn of the mouth (hate to say it, but the aggressor is often looking at my tits, so a change of expression isn't noticed) than a whole set of semaphore flags.

Contraiwise, I have managed to convey no, really, I'm okay with a bit of a wink and a half-smile.

Actually, body language is the set of semaphore flags. So, yeah, assess that when deciding what to do.

If in doubt, barge on in. Me? Me in particular? I might mutter something about #2, above, but it's far more likely that I'll thank you for getting involved.

ETA: this is a public post because, damn, this s*** needs to be talked about. A lot. Out loud and in public.

ETA2: But wait! There's more!

It's a topic that's been on my mind for a long time, but not one I've spoken up about because, honestly, people who are much smarter and more articulate than myself have said pretty much everything I've ever wanted to say.

However, recent events have me thinking that I have to put in my two cents.

For a long time - until quite recently - I was suckered into the notion that if I wore a costume at a convention, any kind of costume, I had to accept unasked-for remarks with good grace, even when they went far past the line of, say, appreciative and into creepy.

I would let people touch me - from arms around the shoulder to unasked-for back rubs - because I didn't want to be the bitch who told them back off.

Correction: I didn't know that I could say "Back off!" without there being horrible consequences.

During my too-brief sojourn in talk-therapy* one thing that was pulled out into the harsh light of day and thoroughly examined is that, because of a couple of traumatic incidents, I have very poor boundaries and great difficulty enforcing them.

Okay then. The lousy boundaries aren't my "fault", per se, but in failing to deal with some matters, I tolerated unacceptable behavior - and by tolerating it, I (silently) approved it and therefore perpetuated it.

So the guy who I let circle me and whistle and say something along the lines of "You've still got it, baybee" (this was a man who I'd threatened with a restraining order some years prior to that incident - we encountered each other in the hallway of a local convention) was not reprimanded by me at the time (I wanted to, even in my clueless state back then, his behavior enraged me) and I'm sure he went on to pull similar BS on other women. And, damn, do I feel stupid for not calling him on it.

At first, I didn't know such behavior was unacceptable. Young, clueless and insecure, I'd accept such things with the equivalent of "tee hee" and tossing my hair. Any attention was good attention, right?

Then, even after I twigged on to the fact that I had the right to be treated as another human being (paging Simone DeBeauvoir!) I kept my mouth shut as I had already encountered the privileged brushoff of "Geeze, calm down willya, it's just a joke!" and worried that not only would my thoughts not be respected, but I would be seriously marginalized. Fandom was the center of my social life. I couldn't afford to find myself booted out of it.

(Don't even get me started on the "But I'm a nice guy / paying her a compliment!" defense. Just don't.)

Tangent: A friend of mine who I consider one of the most liberal-minded and book-smart guys I've ever known told me a few years ago that, in all honesty, that he thought I was taking the whole Barbie-is-not-an-acceptable-role-model-for-little-girls thing "too seriously" and did I really overthink every advertisement in which women were objectified and children sexualized every time I watched TV? It was a few months before I could talk to that guy again. FWIW, he's moved on a lot and I think he gets it now. I think. But I was gobsmacked at the time that he didn't get it, and I see folks who I thought were similarly smart saying the same things. Anyways...

I'm insecure and kind of needy. I want the approval of my friends. I've been into SF/F since long before it fought its way into the mainstream and better-than-it-was gender parity. Many of my friends in fandom are male. Because I'm insecure and kind of needy, I was willing to accept objectification as a form of (male) approval.

Not any more. I've not worn certain costumes for several years and, believe me, the weight I've gained rendering those costumes a bit snug is only one reason of many.

True, I should feel free to wear whatever I want at a convention and if some asshat makes unwanted comments or - worse yet - touches me without consent, I should be able to tell that person where to get off, without fear of being accused of over-reacting, of being shrewish, or being hysterical.

I'll pause for a second while the female readership regains its breath from laughing itself sick.

Shrodinger's Rapist is a very real concern for all women - even at a "safe" event**. I have no way of knowing if the guy who I ask to stop giving me an uninvited backrub at a convention party is going to attack me in a stairwell after the party is over. I don't. So I let him give me the backrub and take a long shower afterwards.

Newsflash: women will "accept" minor assault - and that's what unwanted contact is - rather than risk something worse.

Newsflash the second: in my experience, unwanted attention at conventions (or other public spaces) has always come from men. Always. But that is, to be fair, partially attributable to the gender disparity at conventions, in that case. If BayCon 1996 had a 50/50 gender split, maybe I would have had women catcalling me when I wore the infamous black plastic minidress. Who knows?

And so I've quit wearing outfits that I fear will get me harassed, or that I'm wearing to please the male gaze (see: insecure and needy, above). I've started speaking up when I'm the object of unwanted attention - and speaking up like that scares the shit out of me. There are people out there who will react violently to what they perceive as rejection. Maybe not right then, but maybe later that night, or a week from now, or six months down the road.

But I have to speak up. Have to.

I've been encouraged by the growing awareness of the need to make conventions a safe space for everyone, regardless of gender, sexuality, race, etc. More and more people are encountering unacceptable behavior and calling the perps to account for it. If I want to feel safe, I must join my voice with theirs, rather than try to shrug incidents off and/or convince myself I'm overreacting.

Harassment, marginalization, perpetuation of rape culture... all of that and a dozen more oppressive situations... silence equals consent.

People who feel threatened must speak up. We must support each other. We have to keep hammering on this topic, even when we're dismissed, told to "chill out", patronized and ignored.

We're making progress. Even I, Ms. Oblivious, can see this. Let's keep it up!

*Ended because of financial issues and a twit of a boss who wouldn't let me leave a half hour early twice a month to make it to my sessions. That's changing, now, thank heavens.

**What is safe? A place where I don't have to worry about dismissal, harassment or assault. It doesn't exist, yet, and so I must remain vigilant.

Tags: rant

My best friend is gone.

Alex passed away about 20 minutes ago.

I think he waited until I had stepped out of the room - I needed to take a break - but I got back in time. It was very quick and very peaceful. We were all there and we said goodbye.

Tags: alex, fuck cancer

My mother died at 2:45AM. It was very peaceful, and we were all able to say goodbye before she went.

Thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts and good wishes during the past few days.

Tags: susan