One of the more popular approaches to the developing toddler (i.e. the uncooperative toddler) is offering choices. The idea behind this concept is that you defuse the power struggle. It's brilliant. Really. At least that's what I have read, and that's what I am told.
As my daughter was beginning her new journey, her daddy volunteered to chauffeur her each morning, to give me a little more "me time." But occasionally, work trumps my run on the treadmill, and I have to take the morning wheel.
Anyone who has ever tried to get a kid out the door knows that it can be about as much fun as getting a root canal without sufficient anesthetic. It sucks.
When I recently had to step in and get my sweet, delightful little girl off to school, we were struggling to finish dressing, and I was worried she was going to end up missing out on the limited breakfast I can get into her. I remembered my positive discipline toolbox, and decided to offer a choice.
When I recently had to step in and get my sweet, delightful little girl off to school, we were struggling to finish dressing, and I was worried she was going to end up missing out on the limited breakfast I can get into her. I remembered my positive discipline toolbox, and decided to offer a choice.
Me: Food or shoes?
It seemed like an obvious question, and a simple set of choices.
My daughter: Shoes aren't food, Mommy.
Sometimes the choices on the table seem very easy. Sometimes it seems like the choices in front of you are black and white. And then, the person making those choices reveals a grey area.
Life's like that. I needed my daughter to choose between two very simple tasks, and she heard a very different statement.
As this year's election cycle has spiraled out of control, and the issues that we expect to be talking about have taken a backseat to insanity, some of the most disturbing and unexpected topics have risen to the forefront. Sexual harassment, sexual assault, and the perpetuation and acceptance of rape culture in our society are now part of the political narrative.
No matter what side of the two-party aisle you stand, or even if you are trying to champion the revolution of a third party or Green Party candidate, one thing is sure, you never expected one of your choices in this year's election to be someone who brags about kissing or grabbing women without their invitation or consent. Sadly, a lot of people are diminishing the significance of this harmful talk and labeling it "locker room" talk, as if this kind of talk is justified if you use it in the correct location.
There is no correct location.
There is no correct location.
And for many of us who have suffered sexual harassment, abuse, discrimination, and/or assault, it seems like the choices are black and white. But sadly, that's not the case for everyone.
Several women have now come forward, accusing the Republican presidential candidate of previous sexual assaults, lewd comments, behaviors, and harassment. And as always, one of the questions being so loudly asked is "Why did they wait to come forward until now?" Others seize on the fact that one of the women with the most disturbing allegations can't remember the exact date of her uninvited encounter with the man.
Trauma doesn't follow a rule book. We don't always remember dates, time of day, flight numbers or the color of our perpetrator's tie. We may vividly remember that our perpetrator smelled of coffee and cigarettes, but still be unable to answer questions about a physical attribute. Some of us block all memory of a traumatic event for years, because we simply are not equipped to deal with it at the time it occurred. Those hidden memories only surface when something unexpectedly triggers us.
Survivors of sexual misconduct are frequently disbelieved. In most cases, these crimes are a matter of "she said vs. he said." In most cases, if you are murdered, nobody doubts that. If you have a limb severed from your body, people can see that. But emotional and sexual trauma are in question. These traumas may be harder to prove, but they are no less destructive.
Emotional trauma, sexual abuse, and sexual harassment can, and often do alter you. As a victim, you must decide whether you are going to seek justice for yourself, and potentially prevent the victimization of someone else, or if you are going to remain silent. For most of us, that choice seems obvious. But for others, the analysis of all of the possible outcomes leads to less certainty. The answer isn't always black and white.
As someone who endured years of emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of a relative, I know that victims often feel they have very valid reasons not to come forward. For me, it was the fear that my abuser would become unhinged, and kill everyone in my home. But sometimes the reasons are quite a bit less extreme.
As I said before, victims are often disbelieved by the very people they go to for help. They must relive an awful event--usually multiple times, and face questions that feel almost as invasive and violating as the original event. It is humiliating. It is painful. And as with the original assault or abuse, you just want it to be over.
Sadly, even when you have the courage to come forward and you are believed, justice isn't always served.
In my case, I came forward as my stepfather was finally leaving the house, because I wanted to ensure that my mother wouldn't let him come back. If he didn't come back, the abuse would stop. I also hoped that by coming forward, I could influence the visitation rights he would have with my younger sister, and that I would never have to see him again.
Things didn't work out the way I hoped. The statute of limitations had expired. I suffered through reliving some of the worst years of my life, and I felt I had gained nothing. I was disowned by family. The financial impact was devastating to my mother and sister. My education was compromised. He ended up babysitting my sister after school every day, and I had to see him when I took over until our mom got home at night.
In recent days, several high profile rape cases have served as painful reminders to many of us that doing the right thing doesn't always result in achieving justice. When judges choose to protect the futures of rapists, instead of sentencing appropriately, it sends a very clear message to victims: I don't matter.
As women and girls, we learn very early whether or not we will be heard, and what the outcomes might be. If we look around us and see that coming forward leads to additional abuse, harassment and unpleasantness, that black and white set of choices may not feel so black and white. We may choose to remain silent, because the results of using our voice may invite worse than what we have already experienced.
One of the women who have come forward in the case of the Republican candidate,describes getting up from her first class seat on a plane and thinking that she didn't "need" what was happening to her. That description is very telling. She remained silent for about 30 years. Was it simply that she didn't need a man reaching up her skirt, kissing and touching her without her consent? Or perhaps she didn't "need" all of the fallout that might come along with reporting the incident. It has been said that she didn't want to come forward even now, and that it was at the urging of friends that she did so.
Considering the way many have been questioning the timing of her coming forward, and casting doubt on her claims, it's not hard to understand why she hesitated.
In the last couple of years, about 30 women have come forward, claiming that actor Bill Cosby drugged and sexually assaulted them. Cosby has held an endearing place in popular culture for decades. People have equated him with the characters he has played on television. The reaction to these women and their claims has been astonishing. While it is true that we are innocent until proven guilty, these women have endured demeaning attacks and accusations that really hit below the belt. They have been accused of gold-digging, trying to garner attention, revive failed careers, and many other terrible things.
What is remarkable about the courage of these women is that in spite of so many of Cosby's defenders attempting to tear them down, enough evidence has come to light that he is facing serious investigation. Sometimes--often--where there is smoke, there is fire, or at the very least the smoldering embers of painful events and memories.
When we treat victims of crimes as conniving, plotting, attention-seeking or gold-digging, we discourage others from coming forward.
Doing the "right thing" is not always easy. In the case of coming forward to report sexual harassment, abuse, or assault, it may be the hardest thing you or a person you care about ever does. Sometimes it's the hardest thing they choose not to do. It's hard to encourage someone to report a crime, and have them decide not to. It feels like another crime. But that decision requires understanding and compassion, too.
From my own personal experience, I understand that the pursuit of justice can feel like a revictimization, and we often fail to see that the benefit outweighs the personal cost.
At the end of the day, the conversation about reporting these crimes needs to change. We need to become a great deal more compassionate, understanding and supportive of those who do have the courage to come forward. Ultimately, the conversation needs to shift so dramatically that reporting such crimes is always the obvious choice, because as victims, we are going to receive the thoughtful and compassionate treatment our offenders denied us.
We need to stop the cycle of victim shaming. We need to understand that post traumatic stress disorder can play a huge role in a victim's ability to come forward, and to remember details in the way we remember other events. We need to seriously review how our justice system treats victims and how sentences are applied. The very language we use when talking to, and about victims needs to change.
Until such changes occur--a tectonic shift in our culture--the choices about reporting sexual abuse, harassment and assault, may continue to be grey for some victims. Those of us who have courageously endured the system to seek justice must understand that not all of our sisters and brothers feel strong enough to face the process, the attacks and the further feelings of violation.
As someone who endured years of emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of a relative, I know that victims often feel they have very valid reasons not to come forward. For me, it was the fear that my abuser would become unhinged, and kill everyone in my home. But sometimes the reasons are quite a bit less extreme.
As I said before, victims are often disbelieved by the very people they go to for help. They must relive an awful event--usually multiple times, and face questions that feel almost as invasive and violating as the original event. It is humiliating. It is painful. And as with the original assault or abuse, you just want it to be over.
Sadly, even when you have the courage to come forward and you are believed, justice isn't always served.
In my case, I came forward as my stepfather was finally leaving the house, because I wanted to ensure that my mother wouldn't let him come back. If he didn't come back, the abuse would stop. I also hoped that by coming forward, I could influence the visitation rights he would have with my younger sister, and that I would never have to see him again.
Things didn't work out the way I hoped. The statute of limitations had expired. I suffered through reliving some of the worst years of my life, and I felt I had gained nothing. I was disowned by family. The financial impact was devastating to my mother and sister. My education was compromised. He ended up babysitting my sister after school every day, and I had to see him when I took over until our mom got home at night.
In recent days, several high profile rape cases have served as painful reminders to many of us that doing the right thing doesn't always result in achieving justice. When judges choose to protect the futures of rapists, instead of sentencing appropriately, it sends a very clear message to victims: I don't matter.
As women and girls, we learn very early whether or not we will be heard, and what the outcomes might be. If we look around us and see that coming forward leads to additional abuse, harassment and unpleasantness, that black and white set of choices may not feel so black and white. We may choose to remain silent, because the results of using our voice may invite worse than what we have already experienced.
One of the women who have come forward in the case of the Republican candidate,describes getting up from her first class seat on a plane and thinking that she didn't "need" what was happening to her. That description is very telling. She remained silent for about 30 years. Was it simply that she didn't need a man reaching up her skirt, kissing and touching her without her consent? Or perhaps she didn't "need" all of the fallout that might come along with reporting the incident. It has been said that she didn't want to come forward even now, and that it was at the urging of friends that she did so.
Considering the way many have been questioning the timing of her coming forward, and casting doubt on her claims, it's not hard to understand why she hesitated.
In the last couple of years, about 30 women have come forward, claiming that actor Bill Cosby drugged and sexually assaulted them. Cosby has held an endearing place in popular culture for decades. People have equated him with the characters he has played on television. The reaction to these women and their claims has been astonishing. While it is true that we are innocent until proven guilty, these women have endured demeaning attacks and accusations that really hit below the belt. They have been accused of gold-digging, trying to garner attention, revive failed careers, and many other terrible things.
What is remarkable about the courage of these women is that in spite of so many of Cosby's defenders attempting to tear them down, enough evidence has come to light that he is facing serious investigation. Sometimes--often--where there is smoke, there is fire, or at the very least the smoldering embers of painful events and memories.
When we treat victims of crimes as conniving, plotting, attention-seeking or gold-digging, we discourage others from coming forward.
Doing the "right thing" is not always easy. In the case of coming forward to report sexual harassment, abuse, or assault, it may be the hardest thing you or a person you care about ever does. Sometimes it's the hardest thing they choose not to do. It's hard to encourage someone to report a crime, and have them decide not to. It feels like another crime. But that decision requires understanding and compassion, too.
From my own personal experience, I understand that the pursuit of justice can feel like a revictimization, and we often fail to see that the benefit outweighs the personal cost.
At the end of the day, the conversation about reporting these crimes needs to change. We need to become a great deal more compassionate, understanding and supportive of those who do have the courage to come forward. Ultimately, the conversation needs to shift so dramatically that reporting such crimes is always the obvious choice, because as victims, we are going to receive the thoughtful and compassionate treatment our offenders denied us.
We need to stop the cycle of victim shaming. We need to understand that post traumatic stress disorder can play a huge role in a victim's ability to come forward, and to remember details in the way we remember other events. We need to seriously review how our justice system treats victims and how sentences are applied. The very language we use when talking to, and about victims needs to change.
Until such changes occur--a tectonic shift in our culture--the choices about reporting sexual abuse, harassment and assault, may continue to be grey for some victims. Those of us who have courageously endured the system to seek justice must understand that not all of our sisters and brothers feel strong enough to face the process, the attacks and the further feelings of violation.
I will raise my daughter with "open borders." She will understand that she has any and all support she needs to be strong and use her voice. And my hope will always be that she never becomes the victim I was. But if the worst happens, I hope she will feel the courage to pursue justice. I will also hope that our world moves in the direction of getting a little better each day, and that if ever she must choose between coming forward and remaining silent, the choice will be black and white. I will hope that if someone tries to touch her on a plane, or look at her body without her knowledge or consent that she won't be conditioned to accept this as just one of the threads of our cultural fabric that all women must face at some point.
And for anyone who now declares that the words of a presidential candidate don't matter, or could be worse, you are part of the problem. You are part of the thread that silently and loudly discourages victims. You are part of the revictimization that prevents change and that conditions our children to believe that they must accept and perpetuate the madness. I don't care nearly as much about your political choices as I do the fact that you are willing to turn a blind eye to the destruction and harm this language does to victims, women and girls. I care that you are willing to accept that such words and treatment are a norm.
Until enough of us--victims, parents, teachers, legislators, leaders, friends, women and men--are willing to say "Enough. I will not let you say those words or do those things without consequence," we will continue to see the silent and loud destruction of our women and girls, and our future.
This choice is black and white.
