Being Afraid

This last summer I had the opportunity to discuss an important topic with a person who had political views completely opposed to my own. He was a Swedish Democrat (for those of you not familiar, the Swedish Democrat, SD, party in Sweden is generally known as the right-wing racist party) and was trying to get me to understand all the problems that are facing us due to all these new immigrants and refugees that have been “let in” recently. I argued that we had problems before too, and you just cannot lump all people together like he was doing, there are bad eggs in every cultural basket so to speak. At one point, when trying to convince me he said: “OK, but imagine if you are on a tram, what would scare you the most: 10 immigrant men surrounding you, or 10 Swedish men surrounding you?” I looked at him in amazement and told him frankly: “Well, actually what would scare me most is being surrounded by 10 strange men, in that situation, I really don’t give a damn where they come from or what they look like, just the fact that they are 10 men scares the crap out of me.” Our conversation kind of died out after that…

Last week when enjoying a nice feminist dinner/get-together, stories arose regarding scary and threatening situations we had experienced due to men. One woman told of a time when she had recently moved to Paris and was walking the streets, in the middle of the afternoon, all wide-eyed and full of wonder, when a group of guys decided to mess with her; pulling her hair, taunting her, following her. No one did anything to help her, but she managed to get away, just to be followed by another man who she had to tell several times to stop fucking following her: “But I’m not like those guys!” he persisted. “Well if you really are not like those guys then stop following me.” Really, it should not be that difficult to take no for an answer. I told of the time I was vacationing in Egypt with a friend and we decided to take a boat trip to go snorkeling. For some reason I just kept getting water in my mask as soon as I got in the ocean and one of the guides quickly took that as an opportunity to lead me away from the rest of the group, from my friend, to “help” me with my mask. After doing so, he also helped himself to my body, holding me tight so I couldn’t get away and slipping his hands under my bikini. I tried to push him away, tried swimming faster but there was no use. I was scared, I didn’t have any control over the situation and thought that he might even become violent if I struggled too much. Just let him keep his disgusting hand there then, hopefully this will all be over soon. That is what I told myself. Another time when taking a nice walk during the night in my neighbourhood I was followed by a gang of 5-6 guys on motorcycles and had to escape by going into the yard of another house and hiding in the god damned bushes until they decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and went away. I remembered crying my eyes out when I finally got home. I was so fucking scared.

And I hate it. I hate being scared of approximately half of the world’s population. But I am. I really am. I happily watch thrillers and horror flicks when I’m alone, I love a little rush of adrenaline when some monster or ghost pops out of nowhere. However, when walking alone, day or night, I am never scared of any monsters, ghosts, ghouls or wild animals, the only thing I am ever scared of then is men. Strange men following me, strange men putting their hands on me, strange men not understanding, or wanting to understand a No. Strange men thinking that a woman’s body is not her own. Because it isn’t, right? I mean, according to society, according to advertising, according to the gender norms that make up our institutions and structure our every day lives, us women do not really own our bodies. They are the bodies of everyone, for everyone to gawk and gaze at, for anyone to touch whenever they feel like it. We are taught to smile and be readily available. Be happy for the attention. Wanting the attention. Well, what if we don’t care for the attention? What if we go out of our way to not get that damned unwanted attention?

In a social experiment, Jackson Katz asked college women and men what they did on a regular basis to avoid being sexually assaulted. Needless to say, the responses were not just different, but frighteningly so:

I myself can put a “check” on several of the female responses, and even add some more of my own. I can only ever dream of one day being able to respond the way the men did. Perhaps when I’m dead, I can stop worrying about it… This reminds me of that quote by Margaret Atwood:

Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.”

How skewed is the world that we are living in?

A guy recently told me about this girl he’d been chatting with for months and finally he was invited to her home for dinner for their first date, but when he got there, there was no dinner, instead she told him that the only reason she invited him was because her boyfriend was away and she just wanted to fuck and then never see him again. He said he was disappointed cause he thought she wanted to get to know him and instead he felt like a piece of meat. What he didn’t say was that he, in any way, felt threatened or scared in that situation. Whereas I, when imagining myself being in that situation, would freak the hell out. I would try getting away as soon as possible and never make that mistake ever again. Well, actually, I would never put myself in that situation in the first place: going home to a strange guy on the first date? No thanks, that one goes on the list above as things to avoid. Instead, I tell the people closest to me every time I do go out on a date with someone I do not know. I even try giving them as much information as I have about the guy just in case. A friend of mine actually told me once that her cousin usually looks up the guys phone numbers in order to get their full names and addresses, then texts those details to her friends before meeting the guy, so if she ends up missing they will know where to look first. Seriously. Just writing this is almost making me laugh because it is so ridiculous, the crazy lengths that women feel like they have to go to just to avoid getting harmed. And men, well, they don’t even think about these things.

How lucky for them.

#sistabriefen – Stories of sexism in the world of agencies

I’ve been working at different agencies (PR/Communication/Web) for several years now and in light of #sistabriefen: Women in the industry in Sweden signing up to stand united and ask clients and agencies to demand equality and put an end to sexual harassment, marginalization and discrimination, I would just like to tell some of my own experiences and stories in this world.

First of all, I never really thought about working in marketing or at agencies before I actually started, it was more of a coincidence, one of those “being at the right place in the right time” things: While in Oslo for a photo project I met a friends’ brothers’ partner who worked at an agency that happened to be looking for some part-time help with a project managing photos, and I figured I could earn some experience and cash after my last employment as a photographer. What was supposed to be a 2 week job turned into months, which turned into a full time job, which eventually turned into my first promotion as a Production manager. This journey was no thanks to the CEO of the company, who I still think to this day is one of the biggest arseholes I’ve ever, so far, encountered. No, this was due to colleagues, especially one senior developer who saw my potential and competence, and basically persuaded the CEO to promote me. Even though I myself had sent my CV to the boss at least 4 times during the first year I worked there, I am pretty sure he never actually read it.

It’s difficult now, so many years later, to recount all the subtle incidents and remarks I experienced there, I was young and new to that world, still trying to figure out my place in it. I remember getting the work that nobody else wanted, shit tasks basically, even though I was far more educated than say another colleague who was the same age as me and hadn’t even finished her first degree while I was working on my third while also working there, but still had a better position (to be fair, she was in a relationship with one of the owners so… I guess that counts for more). I remember being hit on at the first office party I ever went to by a client who must have been twice my age. I remember the male-dominated tone of the place, the locker-roomish atmosphere. I remember talking about these things with other female colleagues who also felt troubled and frustrated. I also remember being called “cocky” and “tough” right before I was laid off for reasons I can only assume were personal and not based on my work, skills or anything else that should matter. Oh well. Even though it stung, I was glad to be out of that place.

Later I was head-hunted by another agency, which in hindsight did give me some pause before accepting the offer seeing as I was the only woman working there when I started: warning signs that I chose to disregard, thinking that I could manage on my own and inspire some change. And sure, I did change some things and at first my efficiency and ambition was a welcoming force according to my closest boss. Nonetheless, being the only woman (and a strong and opinionated one at that) where the majority of the men working there were scared of conflict and thought discussions meant fights, well, it soon became quite tricky and frustrating. I remember one instance where we had an e-mail thread among some colleagues discussing ideas for our new site. One colleague in the SEO department tried pushing for an idea which basically only involved SEO and was frankly not that good in terms of design and UX, something that I of course tried to put forth after also discussing it with our senior designer (who agreed with me). I explained that I didn’t think the idea was that good and tried to get him to understand why, but instead he went on the offence, personally attacking me because I “obviously did not understand SEO”. I maintained my composure and stuck to the original point concerning the idea and then the discussion abruptly ended. A few days later one of the owners came by and asked to see me in the conference room. I had no idea what it was about but he told me that the e-mail discussion was just not OK, that I had handled it poorly. He said: You are like a bulldozer, you just run everybody over! And I couldn’t help thinking: “If I were a white man in my 30ies like the rest of you, would we be having this exact conversation right now? I fucking doubt it.” I asked him how on earth I was the one being punished for the discussion when it was the other colleague who personally attacked me while I stuck to the topic, never saying anything bad or mean about him personally. But it was no use. He said that I cannot behave like that with my colleagues, it was not acceptable. I had to change and be “softer”. Little did I know that he would use that same tactic against me several times later on, claiming that I was too rough with colleagues, clients, god and his grandma. One time he called and told me he just had a conversation with a client who claimed that they felt like I had run them over and the first thing I did after talking to him was of course to go back in my mind and figure out what I had said or done that had made the client feel that way. I was upset with myself, thinking it was me, that I was the problem. But seeing as I am a grown up who can take responsibility for my actions, I felt the need to apologize to the client so I contacted them and told them I never meant to run them over and that I was sorry about it, that I hope I could make up for it and asked them to just let me know how they would like me to better communicate with them. The response I got baffled me: The client said that they were a bit surprised seeing as they never had claimed that I had run them over… my colleague had either misinterpreted something, or perhaps more accurately, he had lied to me just to put me down once again, just because he couldn’t deal with my no-nonsense approach. Other incidents at that damned place included: me having to take crap from clients due to the lies that the owners had told them and promises that they made (which they knew couldn’t be kept but hey, I was there as a scapegoat when shit hit the fan so, it was fine…); me having to take crap from partner firms due to lies that the owners had told them which I was not allowed to come clean about; me having to deal with them turning into drunken jackasses at every staff party, enduring even more male-macho-boyish talk and behavior, and so on, and so forth.

After the “bulldozer incident” I thought, and still maintain: I would rather be the bulldozer, than being the one run over by it. Especially seeing as I was constantly being run over by my male bosses and colleagues any way: Every time I had an idea that no one wanted to listen to; every time I tried to speak at a meeting and was interrupted; every time I got someone else’s shit thrown at me; every time I worked my arse off and had the best damn results there but instead got negative feedback for being “too hard”, “too tough”, “too opinionated”; every time I was denied a raise even though I deserved one; every time I was assigned the role as some kind of mother/maid, as if I was taking care of children in a god damned kindergarten; every time I was given less resources for my projects, but still had to accomplish the same goals and deadlines, lest I be shamed; every time I was told that I was the problem and had to change my ways; every time I was made the black sheep, the scapegoat, the punching bag. It really didn’t matter how much of a bulldozer I might or might not have been, I was still the one being run over for the most part, and the few times I spoke up about it, well, you can probably figure out how that went. Basically: I was damned if I did, and I was damned if I didn’t.

When I eventually told my boss I was quitting, I couldn’t stop smiling. I was finally free.

But then again: Will I ever be free, will any of us who have experienced this type of discrimination and sexism at work ever be treated as equals, listened to, respected, valued? I firmly believe that as long as the agencies are mostly dominated by males, women will always be in a token position, sticking out like sore thumbs. That is why #sistabriefen is such an important and necessary plea. My experiences are far from the worst that have happened and still happen to women in this industry, I consider myself lucky in a way, but I know also that I have deserved more respect than was given to me. However, when reading some of the horror stories that women have endured, I am shocked, yet not surprised, disgusted, and just at a loss for words. Many stories can be read here (mostly in Swedish though), for those of you interested, for those who perhaps don’t really think this is a “big deal”, for those who want to grasp the vastness of these issues. Read, educate yourself, speak up about it, stop it.

mad men

(funny little tidbit: just got a text from a former colleague (one of the few reasonable men at that place who I felt I could confide in and who confided in me), telling me that everything is chaos right now. Since I left, not that long ago, the project management is basically non-existent, the boss is completely lost, everyone is overburdened, irritated and frustrated. I shouldn’t be happy about this, but I am. It is nice to realize that the space I filled there, the hard work I put in, was in fact crucial and without it, well… That’s their problem, I guess. It’s just sad, typical and unfortunate that some people and especially bosses, do not understand or appreciate the value of their employees, especially when they happen to be female. However, I want to believe in Karma, in some form of justice, and I find the fact that they are struggling without me to be the universe giving me a silent nod: I was not always the problem, I actually did know what the heck I was doing, and why.)