Last Wednesday I arrived at work primed to write a piece responding to a television editorial about a radio prank in which a female television presenter was led into a dark room, blindfolded, only to discover one of the male radio co-hosts naked. Regardless of whether the woman involved was offended, which she wasn’t, I was and remain concerned about the message that type of prank sends to young men and women about what is and isn’t acceptable in a workplace.
On the same morning, unaware of my intended subject matter, Angela Priestley came to work having already written, for the first time, about her experience of being sexually harassed at the age of 19 in one of her first jobs.
Angela was prompted to write about her experience after learning that the Federal Sex Discrimination Commissioner, Liz Broderick, was sharing her own story of being sexually harassed by a client at the beginning of her legal career. Liz had chosen to tell her story for the first time at the launch of a new initiative called Know Where The Line Is which is designed to educate and encourage Australians to recognise what is and isn’t acceptable in a bid to stamp out sexual harassment.
On Wednesday afternoon I was called by the producer on the television show to which I had responded in my piece. They asked if I would go on the show that evening to discuss my take on the radio prank, which I did.
At one point the conversation turned to Tony Abbott and his then Liberal candidate, now member for Lindsay, Fiona Scott, whom he described during the election campaign as having “sex appeal”. This particular topic arose because of a digitally-altered image, of the then-Opposition leader ogling Scott’s cleavage, that had been circulating on social media that day. The photo, which is insulting to both Tony Abbott and Fiona Scott, was fake.
The fake image reinforces why Abbott’s election remarks were so inappropriate. By referencing her sex appeal Abbott has not just opened himself up to being portrayed lewdly but he has opened Scott up to it too. She deserved, and deserves, the right to do her job unencumbered by any commentary around her physical appearance. Her boss, in effect, compromised what Liz Broderick, the Australian Chamber of Commerce and the ACTU are fighting for: the right for Australians to enjoy workplaces free from sexual harassment.
My issue – then and now – with Abbott’s comments about Scott’s appearance is that her appearance has nothing to do with her ability to do her job. The impact of linking them – as Abbott’s comment implicitly did – is insidious and extends beyond Fiona Scott. Like the radio prank, it sends a message – whether it’s intended or not – that this type of conduct or comments are acceptable. Tolerating and excusing incidences like these perpetuates the notion that sexism is a cultural quirk that women are expected to quietly endure. The impact of that message is amplified when it is sent by those with power and influence.
One of the other panellists on Wednesday night, Janet Albrechtson, disagreed with my position and commented after the show about the paternalism inherent in my argument. I accept it is paternalistic to try and stamp out sexism and sexual harassment because it does involve limiting the civil liberties of a group of people, namely those who like to sexually harass and/or make sexist remarks to, others, “for the greater good”.
One of the few things I learned at university that I have never forgotten is this: one person’s civil liberties end when another person’s liberties begin. At the risk of grossly oversimplifying, ‘I have the right to behave how I like until it impedes on you’, is one of the basic principles that underpins our legal system.
Technically, forbidding people from murdering other people is an infringement of an individual’s civil liberties. But it’s an infringement we accept because one person’s right to live without being murdered supersedes another person’s right to kill someone.
Historically not all individuals were treated equally in this equation. It’s why there was a time when a man couldn’t ever “rape” his wife because she didn’t have the right to reject her husband’s advances. His civil liberties extended further than hers. Similarly slavery flourished because the civil liberties granted to African-Americans, for example, were far less generous than those given to their employers’.
The historical hangover from such power imbalances still lingers which might explain why some people jump to defend a man’s right to “joke” or sexually harass a woman ahead of her right to be offended or not harassed.
Ultimately in a developed civil society the critical question regarding individuals’ rights boils down to this: where is the reasonable place to draw the line? Once you decide where that line is drawn it is up to all of us – but particularly those with power and influence – to enforce it. If you’re not sure where the line is regarding sexual harassment in the workplace Liz Broderick’s office has compiled a fantastic resource to help you find it.
It might seem paternalistic and patronising for outsiders to call out inappropriate conduct, particularly when the women involved aren’t offended. But calling it out is less for their benefit, if they’re not concerned, than it is for others. For the benefit of those who are less powerful and more vulnerable. To make it absolutely clear to them that if they’re subject to behaviour that makes them feel harassed or uncomfortable they don’t have to accept it in silence. They can speak out because collectively we have drawn a line we’re happy to enforce.
Last week I read stories from four different women about their experiences as younger women being sexually harassed. In most ways their experiences of sexual harassment were different but in one way they were the same: they were far younger and far more vulnerable when they were exploited. At the time they didn’t speak out, in fact they’ve each waited decades to share their stories.
What struck me as I read their stories was this. Now, Angela Priestley, Liz Broderick, Lisa Bryant and Tara Moss are well-educated, independent and empowered women.
Even back when they were subject to the various guises of offensive conduct, they were, in relative terms, privileged. And yet each of them was powerless and vulnerable in the face of exploitative behaviour by those in more powerful positions. By virtue of their age alone, they were vulnerable.
On Friday I was asked to speak to a group of young mothers who are part way through a TAFE qualification which is the equivalent of having finished high school. Many of the girls who complete this course, supported by a charitable foundation, are single mothers, in their very early 20s, or younger, who don’t necessarily enjoy the emotional or financial support of their family. Many of the girls who complete this course haven’t finished school and domestic violence is, or has been, a very real problem for many of them.
The girls I met were enthusiastic, thoughtful, obviously clever and strong but they are not powerful, at least not yet. As I sat there it dawned on me that it is for these girls that it matters most that we draw the line. That we speak up and push back.
For the young people – who in a few decades’ times might be bold leaders like Liz Broderick and Tara Moss – but right now are vulnerable and powerless. Do we want them, or anyone else,
to endure the unwelcome advances of a powerful peer? If the answer to that is no, which I sincerely hope it is, it’s necessary to draw the line.
I am embarrassed to admit I had arrived to speak to the young mothers feeling slightly bruised by a torrent of unpleasant social media. That was quickly put into context the minute we began talking. I am privileged by way of pot luck. I was born into a family whose unconditional support I enjoy every single day. I have an education and a job. I have various safety nets around me by virtue of being lucky.
As I walked out of that room on Friday I was reminded that that kind of luck carries with it an obligation to, at the very least, recognise that privilege for what it is. Ideally I’d argue the obligation is to also be compassionate and aware of those who aren’t yet so lucky. It might be paternalistic to consider the welfare of others but what’s the alternative? Whatever it is, I’ll take the former.