#ME TOO------AND YOU?
Rev. Kit Ketcham, PUUF, Feb. 18, 2018
This thing has
gone too far. It has terrified people, driven them out of their workplaces and
even professions, made them afraid to speak up and punished them for speaking.
This thing, by which I mean misogyny and violence against women (and girls, and
men, and boys, and even babies, but I’m going to skip the horrific baby story
that was reported last week). The #MeToo upheaval is an attempt to address
something old and deep and very destructive, and if you’ve forgotten how
serious it is let’s take a visit to my favorite radical-feminist data center,
the Department of Justice’s Bureau of Justice Statistics. There you can learn that there were an estimated 323,450
rapes or sexual assaults in 2016, as well as 1,109,610 reported incidents of
domestic violence. Less than a quarter of those rapes are reported to police;
slightly over half of the domestic violence incidents are. Rebecca Solnit in the publication Literary
Hub.
When
the explosion of #MeToo accusations against powerful men in entertainment,
industry, and sports hit the news circuits last fall, I took a deep breath and
considered my own history with sexual assault.
I’ve
done a lot of journaling about this topic over the years, trying to figure out
how an early experience with an uncle I had trusted and loved had affected my
development as a girl moving from childhood, through adolescence, into
adulthood, and contemplating my relationships with men along the way.
When I told my parents that my elderly uncle had fondled me on a
recent visit to Elgin, where our aunt and uncle lived, they immediately took
action. But it was not to report the
uncle to the authorities nor, as far as I know, to confront the uncle or to
inform my dad’s sister, our aunt.
Instead,
we almost never saw that uncle again, unless they happened to drop by our home
in Athena unexpectedly. He mostly disappeared
from our lives and died a few years later of age-related ailments.
But
the effect of that experience was burned into my memory and from that time on,
I was wary of males. Even a minor
teasing by a male friend alarmed me; and I’d count the number of males in a room
compared to the females and wonder if we girls were safe.
And
yet my little heart went pitty-pat over the cute athletes in our high school; I
had my crushes and a few boys even liked me in return, but I rarely felt safe
with them. I was aware of their physical
strength, their ability to affect how I felt, and my need to keep my
distance---because it was up to me, of course, to keep them from hurting me.
After
high school and college, I left home for young adult type experiences: a summer
in Wisconsin at a church center, a welfare worker job in Klickitat County, and
then an opportunity to move to Denver and really be on my own for the first
time in my life.
I
fell in love in Denver, had my first real sexual experience, and then felt the guilt
and confusion because of his criticism of my body. With my so-called “innocence” gone, I began
to date another man who became my husband only a few months later. It felt as if virginity was a burden to be
relieved and then there was no reason to stop sexually. But I was still scared.
Marriage
did not make things easier, and after 13 years of feeling used rather than
cherished, I left the marriage and embarked on an effort to overcome the fear
I’d had for so long.
A
few years of experimentation, which included an incident of date rape, ended
abruptly with the advent of the fear of HIV/AIDS and I began to be more
trusting of myself and my ability to choose wisely, to take care of myself, and
a couple of truly caring relationships helped me find a comfort level with men
that I had not had before.
But
that changed again, after the breakup of a relationship in which my partner was
unfaithful, and I have been pretty much celibate since that time, over 20 years
ago.
There is a
professional taboo in UU ministry against being romantically involved with a
member of my congregation and that restriction became an oasis for me when I
went into ministry. My professional
relationships with men had to be completely above-board; much harm has been
done to congregations when the minister has let his or her sexual interest in a
parishioner become active. I was very
happy with that restriction. It was a
relief.
But enough about
me---what about you? Several weeks ago,
I announced that I would speak about the #MeToo tsunami of accusations and
resignations, the groundswell of angry women and uncomfortable men. I asked if any women and men who had been
sexually assaulted or harassed would like to help me shape the service, and
several contacted me.
Since that time, I
have had conversations with a number of women and men and we women have shared
our experiences and our feelings, examined the trajectory of our lives as they
were affected by the experience, and where we are today with it. I have come to believe that many, if not
most, women have been affected by experiences from one end of the sexual
harassment spectrum to the other, from unwanted flirtatiousness to rape,
serious injury, and even death.
As several of the
men who responded remarked, this is to some degree a socialization issue and
has to do with the way gender roles have been assigned and interpreted as we
grew up. BUT it also has to do with
misuse of power---physical power and the type of power that is inherent in an
unequal relationship where one person has the ability to make or destroy
another’s success and sense of wellbeing.
Most men would not
even consider physically forcing another person to satisfy them sexually and
yet the MeToo victims have spoken clearly about their sense that they had no
choice---either to remove themselves from the situation or report the situation
or to do anything but freeze and even dissociate from their bodies as it
occurred. They may not have been
physically forced, but it was an emotional coercion that may have even been
unconscious on the part of the dominant person, usually the man.
Where does this
sense of emotional coercion come from? A
couple of my male friends, both from my generation, grew up in an environment
in which most women were not peers but were mothers and housewives, not in the
workforce except out of necessity and then often in menial jobs or typical
“women’s work” careers like teaching or nursing.
Many of these work
situations required women to be subservient to men’s direction and their
livelihood depended on their being able to satisfy a boss’s needs. Sometimes these included sexual advances of
some kind; a woman had few choices in such a situation and figuring out how to
keep one’s job without succumbing to the pain of sexual harassment and assault
has been one of women’s ongoing challenges as they climb the career ladder.
Women learned to
laugh it off, to keep their male bosses happy while avoiding the unwanted hug
or joke; women warned each other about grabby males in the workforce and in
social situations.
Women have also
learned to manage their intimate relationships with men upon whom they felt
dependent for reasons like children, financial support, or household
needs. As a stay at home mother and
wife, a woman has had to keep her husband happy in order to take care of her
children and have a roof over her head.
Little girls may see
their mothers mollifying their fathers and subjugating their own needs and come
to believe that this is the way men and women are supposed to relate, not as
peers but as dominator and dependent, even when the relationship was basically
loving and kind. Mama did what Daddy
said.
And adolescent
girls may behave the same way when they are with a boyfriend or other male
companion: “don’t hurt his feelings by saying no, don’t make a fuss, don’t ask
for anything that will make him mad, because if you do, he can retaliate and make
your life miserable by talking to the other boys about you.”
When I was a school
counselor, I sometimes learned from girls that one of their friends was talking
about committing suicide. So I would bring that girl into my office to
check on her wellbeing and I had a series of questions I’d ask as our
conversation got underway.
The girl was often
unable to articulate her distress beyond the idea that she was worthless, that
the world would be better off without her, that she was stupid and ugly and fat,
so I’d gently ask her to tell me more about her life, and the one question that
often broke the dam of her anguish was “have you ever been sexually molested or
assaulted?”
The
answer was almost always YES, “yes, but I can’t talk about it because he said
he would hurt me worse, nobody would believe me, he might hurt my family, he
said that I was ugly and fat and dirty and that nobody else would ever want me.”
This
happens to boys too. We are probably all
well aware of the extent of the Catholic church’s history of priests using
little and not so little boys---and girls, to be clear--- using them for sexual
gratification, and the cover-up by church authorities over the years, even
today.
But
it happens elsewhere as well, with older boys and men forcing younger boys to
gratify them sexually. These
perpetrators are almost never gay men but rather straight men who are
pedophiles, drawn to young boys (and girls) for their powerlessness and
childlike bodies. It can also happen in heterosexual
hazing incidents where one boy or young man is initiated cruelly into a group.
For
this to happen to any person, male or female or non-binary is a terrible blow to their self-image, a deep
wound to their identity. They can come
to believe that they are worthless, that they are guilty somehow for not being
able to avoid or to end the abuse, that others will be harmed if they tell,
that they will not be believed.
Let’s
pause here for a moment and think about what has happened in our own
lives. There are a lot of stories in
this room, some of them never told, some of them repeated only to therapists
and partners, some that have been almost forgotten and some that will always be
remembered. It is not only women who
suffer. Men, transfolk, and nonbinary
people are survivors too.
We
all know people---women, men, children, transwomen, transmen, gender-fluid
folk---who have been touched by the pain of sexual assault and harassment. Today we feel their pain and our own. We wish healing for ourselves and for one
another. We wish for the three-fold
purpose of #MeToo to be realized:
The first purpose of MeToo is to help women and those of
all genders who have experienced sexual violation to not feel alone. The second
is to show men the magnitude of the problem so that men cannot claim ignorance.
#Metoo asks men to step up and take
responsibility for addressing sexual harassment. The third is to change the culture so that
every person can grow up trusting that their body will be respected.
HEALING RITUAL
I
have here on this table a bowl of pebbles and a container into which we will
drop our pebbles one person at a time, representing those who have been
affected by the scourge of sexual violation, a condition which is perpetuated
by misogyny, patriarchy, and the oppression of the weak by the powerful.
So,
if you are willing, if you are feeling pain from your own experiences, if you
have a MeToo story and are angry or sad or frightened, if you want to come up
here and stand with me in solidarity with all of us who have experienced this
violation, please, come on up. You don’t
have to say anything, you don’t have to share your experience, you’ll just be
together with us and not alone in your experience. If you have loved ones who have been harmed
by sexual violation, please come on up as well.
As
you come up to the platform, take a pebble or two from the bowl and drop them
in the container, to represent the pain that you and others have felt.
PLEASE JOIN ME IN A TIME OF
BLESSING FOR VICTIMS OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE
If you come feeling nervous about sharing this
moment with others, look around and see that you are not alone.
If you come feeling shame about this experience,
look around and see that in our eyes you are holy and good.
If you come feeling relief, look around and feel the
freedom of release.
If you come feeling anger, look around and see that
others recognize and understand your rage.
If you come here grieving, look around and share
your healing tears.
If you come feeling guilty, look around and let go
of your heart’s sad burden.
If you come feeling fear, look around and see that
you are held by the courageous love of this community.
If you come feeling compassion, look around and see
that your listening ear is deeply needed.
And if you come here with a survivor’s heart that
has persisted against all odds, look around and see that all of who you are
is welcome here and know that you are a gift unto the world.
May the spirit of life and love bring us all greater
understanding and the will to change what has been broken for so long. May it be so.
May we be healed.
Let’s pause for a time of silent reflection and
prayer as our sisters and brothers take their seats.
CLOSING HYMN #109: “As We Come Marching Marching”
I
recognize that not all of the MeToo issues have been addressed by my
words. Tod and I have talked about how
we might schedule a discussion time later in the year, when we’ve had a chance
to reflect, and my March sermon will be entitled “What do women want?”, that
famous quote from Sigmund Freud, to carry this important theme a bit farther.
BENEDICTION: Our worship service, our time of shaping
worth together, is ended, but our service to the world begins again as we leave
this place. Let us go in peace,
remembering the hurt and shame that we and our loved ones have experienced
because of the plague of sexual violence that permeates our culture. May we stand up to those who would deal pain
with their power and may we do all we can to support each other and to
eradicate this stain on our culture.
Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.
CLOSING CIRCLE
