Sexual Harassment: Not Just a Women’s Issue
06/18/2015 12:47 am ET | Updated Jun 17, 2016
Gretchen Carlson
Journalist, wife, mama, author of Getting Real, and Fox News Host of The Real Story with Gretchen Carlson weekdays 2PM EST.
Most professional women I know have experienced sexual harassment. So
have I — a few times — and I never talked about it until now. If that
seems surprising, it shouldn’t be. I’ve always considered myself a
strong woman, not afraid to stand up for myself, but in the face of
sexual harassment I was silent. As the issue takes a prominent place in
the headlines today, I sometimes feel guilty about my trepidation.
Perhaps I could have moved the conversation forward if I had come forth.
But when I had those experiences I was young and afraid to speak out. I
had no real power, and I was worried that people would blame me or
consider me a troublemaker. Sound familiar?
The first incident came when I was nearing the end of my term as Miss America. I was thrilled to schedule a meeting with a top TV executive in New York who promised to help me gain entrée to the business. He called a bunch of shows and sang my praises, and then he took me out to dinner.
Afterward we got into his car and he gave the driver the address of the friend I was staying with. As we sat in the backseat, he suddenly threw himself on top of me and stuck his tongue down my throat. I pulled away from him, horrified. As we reached my friend’s apartment building, I jumped out of the car and fled. When I got upstairs I started crying. I thought I had done something wrong.
The first incident came when I was nearing the end of my term as Miss America. I was thrilled to schedule a meeting with a top TV executive in New York who promised to help me gain entrée to the business. He called a bunch of shows and sang my praises, and then he took me out to dinner.
Afterward we got into his car and he gave the driver the address of the friend I was staying with. As we sat in the backseat, he suddenly threw himself on top of me and stuck his tongue down my throat. I pulled away from him, horrified. As we reached my friend’s apartment building, I jumped out of the car and fled. When I got upstairs I started crying. I thought I had done something wrong.
It happened again a few months later in L.A., where I was meeting
with a top public relations executive who had promised to help me parlay
my Miss America experience into a news media career. He suggested we
get some dinner. After I got into the passenger seat of his car, he
abruptly put his hand on the back of my head and shoved my face into his
crotch. Sickened, I yanked myself up, horrified and upset.
After each
incident, I spent sleepless nights wondering what I should do next.
Should I tell someone? But whom could I tell? In my heart I knew that I
wouldn’t be believed. These men were powerful, and I had no power. So I
stayed silent.
A third
incident happened at my first job as a reporter for a news station in
Richmond Virginia. One day, the station’s cameraman and I were out doing
a story in a rural area. Before the interview, he helped me attach my
microphone, reaching up under my blouse to hook it to my bra. This was a
normal routine, and I didn’t think anything of it. But on the drive
back to the station he started talking about how much he’d enjoyed
touching my breasts. It wasn’t just creepy; it was scary. I pressed my
body against the passenger-side window, and for a brief moment imagined
myself rolling out of the car onto the highway to escape from him.
Fortunately, we made it back to the station. This incident had a
different ending because when my boss saw my face, he pressed me until I
told him what had happened. It turned out there were other issues with
the cameraman, and the station let him go. But I felt terrible about the
whole situation. I didn’t want anyone to know about it lest they start
whispering about me and speculating about what really happened. Like so
many young women who are the victims of harassment, I worried for months
that I had invited his advances in some way, or worse, that people
would think I had. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but still I felt shame.
That was almost twenty-five years ago, but today young women are
experiencing the same dread of revealing sexual harassment. To be
honest, if a young professional woman were to ask my advice about what
to do if she were sexually harassed, I might hesitate. It’s well and
good to say, “Expose the harassers,” but even with laws and HR
departments, we’re unfortunately not at a place where we can say
absolutely that a woman who is harassed will be protected from
repercussions if she tells.
Those repercussions aren’t just the obvious trauma of being publicly involved in a scandal. They can be more insidious — an aura of doubt about her reliability, her stability and her toughness that could have an impact on her career growth. No wonder most women just prefer to move on and not tell.
So what can we do?
Those repercussions aren’t just the obvious trauma of being publicly involved in a scandal. They can be more insidious — an aura of doubt about her reliability, her stability and her toughness that could have an impact on her career growth. No wonder most women just prefer to move on and not tell.
So what can we do?
First, we have
to stop blaming the victim. Too often the narrative about sexual
harassment is that women bring it on themselves by the way they dress,
act or look. Harassers get a pass in our culture, and it’s clear to me
that we have to speak with one voice on this matter and say it’s wrong
and we aren’t going to stand for it. Even when I was harassed, I always
knew that my brains and talent were responsible for my success, not my
looks. Unfortunately, I still have to put up with the constant drumbeat
of “lookism.” People think it’s okay to refer to a professional woman as
a “blonde bimbo.” We should refuse to tolerate this attitude when it
occurs.
Second, we can
never let the fact that sexual harassment exists hold women back.
Recently it was revealed that some male members of Congress will not be
alone with female staffers for fear of the appearance of impropriety. As
a result women in these offices are excluded from important
opportunities. I can’t imagine progressing in one’s career in Washington
without being able to have private conversations with your boss or
drive alone in a car with him. No wonder there are no female chiefs of
staff in the offices that have this policy. In the guise of protecting
the reputation of males, women are being relegated to the second tier,
and this is just wrong.
Third, I
believe that sexual harassment training should be mandatory for all
businesses and organizations. Take the issue off the back burner and
demand compliance in making the work environment safe for women to
excel. My hope is that with more women in executive positions we can
provide a support system for young women so they’re less frightened of
speaking up when they’ve experienced abuse.
Finally, we
have to stop thinking of sexual harassment as only a women’s issue. It
comes down to how we raise our children, including our sons. It’s not
enough to tell our daughters to stand up for themselves. Part of putting
an end to harassment involves educating boys to be completely accepting
of women, both at home and at work, so that harassment becomes a relic
of the past.
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