Aziz Ansari, #MeToo, & the Issue of Accountability
Allegations against Aziz Ansari have thrown the internet in a flurry- was it sexual assault or was it just bad sex? Because how can a NICE GUY feminist man be capable of sexual coercion? The backlash has been swift but people defending him and this sort of encounter have been loud too.
When I read the account, my heart just went out to Grace for having to describe every single painful detail. She knew that people wouldn't take her story seriously without graphic and painstaking depth because either we want to believe that bad things like assault don't happen or because we're more inclined to give a powerful man the benefit of the doubt than some nameless woman online who's ~probably just trying to get attention~ (bleh). It was painful to read (partially because Babe didn't do the best job reporting this but anyways). To me, it seemed clear that Grace wasn't okay with what was happening, that she felt violated.
But many women have expressed their doubt. The encounter feels all too familiar for some, and labeling it as "assault" forces us to reexamine our own experiences through that lens. If Grace was assaulted, then has everyone we know been assaulted too? Maybe. But maybe not. Context matters. A woman could be in the same exact situation as Grace, but if she's a different person, she may take away a different experience. It doesn't have to be labeled assault or coercion or intimidation- but if Grace felt violated, then how can we as complete strangers say that she wasn't? It was the responsibility of her partner to ensure she felt safe, and he failed. He should have known better. And it doesn't seem like he's particularly interested in trying to do better moving forward.
(Side note- I will say that it is uncomfortable to see Ansari under fire by a lotta white women who didn't seem as angry about white men who have been accused by more women.... I don't want there to be a racial dimension and I'm not sure if it's even worth mentioning but it feels a bit remiss to leave out.)
Anyways, I'm wondering now how much it matters to label Grace's experience. Some people insist it's assault and some people really want it to be bad sex, but maybe some times, violation can't be neatly categorized. And maybe getting bogged down with defining this one individual encounter in a singular moment in time is drawing our attention away from widespread attitudes, norms, policies that we continue to allow to exist. "Our normal is awful", one writer at Bust says.
American values encourage us to believe deeply in the agency of the individual, and our instinct is to provide credit or assign blame to singular people like Ansari. But this neoliberal response overlooks the ways in which we are products of our culture. Thinking critically about how we collectively think about sex, expectations, and boundaries is important because these pervasive attitudes affect the way we interact with each other. Speaking in broad strokes here, but how have women been rewarded for behaviors like being gentle and tactful (read: not direct), and how do those habits affect how we assert ourselves in sexual encounters? How does fear of and a tradition of violence affect the ways in which we present our agency? What expectations are men implicitly taught about sex? How do a lack of consequences for transgressions allow a terrible status quo to perpetuate? What about when sex is consensual but bad? How can we work to really change these elements so deeply embedded in our culture? It's also important to note that so much of the national conversation (and this blog post) centers heterosexual encounters, but sexual aggression is just as much of an issue in LGBTQ experiences.
We have to acknowledge that there are no nice guys (or gals) when it comes to sexual assault and harassment. We are all capable of violating someone else's boundaries. Whether we do it or not requires a firm grasp on the definition of consent (the absence of no doesn't always mean yes), a healthy respect for other people, and a bit of self-awareness. And still these ingredients aren't quite enough- "feminist" men like Ansari who are familiar with nuance still violate boundaries without realizing it (or actively knowing something was wrong and pretending otherwise because "by all indications it was consensual"?).
It's worth saying that this is a different sort of case than what we've seen so far with #MeToo. Many of the women who have come forward with this movement have shared experiences with bosses and superiors, men who held an element of power over women's economic stability. The details of Grace's story aren't the same and neither are they as clean, and it's frustrating. But reality is messy, and a lot of sexual violence and trauma defies neat boundaries and definitions. And this reality needs to drive us towards constantly striving for better for everyone.
Another dimension of this is due process. It's tough because a single, anonymous source can be enough to make someone guilty of something very bad. No matter what people are accused of though, they deserve due process in a legal sense but how does that translate to the court of social opinion? For so long, women have held in so much trauma, they've been belittled and mocked and put in real danger for telling their stories. It's felt like no one has taken them seriously and that these violations merit no real consequences.
We've reached a tipping point and it's all swung in the opposite direction and finally we feel validated. Now some warn against the "mania" of #MeToo, which sounds patronizing but we have to make sure we stay grounded and measured. As the process of assigning guilt and blame quickens and punishments are doled out fast, we have to reflect on what kinds of consequences we really believe in.
Imagine the case of a university professor who's been accused of sexual harassment. He's also been a powerful opponent of greedy corporations and has influenced a lot of policy that has protected the country against their influence. He's teaching students, and it feels uncomfortable- but he is an expert in the field. Should students who are interested in his area of research be denied an instructor before the investigation is over? If he were to be found guilty of the charges, would that invalidate his entire body of contributions to society? Should it?
#MeToo encapsulates a lot of different types of violation, harassment, abuses of power, assault, and violence. These are tough and uncomfortable conversations. On one hand, I want us to live in a society with zero tolerance towards sexual assault. On the other, the reality is that a LOT of people have done it... Firing them does open up space and opportunity for people who haven't committed sexual assault to replace them, but destroying careers just doesn't seem like a sustainable or effective solution. Sure, it feels great at the moment and we feel heard but what does it say about our values? That we're out for blood and willing to punish people severely without second chances?
In some cases, absolutely. The case of Larry Nassar, US Gymnastics, and the 130 women who have come forward with stories of sexual abuse is absolutely unacceptable. It evokes a visceral response when I think about how this was allowed to happen, especially since he was a doctor. I don't have the stomach to read through the history of the case, but if whispers of wrongdoing or even one woman's account were taken seriously over the years, could countless women have been protected? How do can we better prevent gross abuses in power and investigate the truth in a timely fashion?
The US Gymnastics situation is much much different than Ansari's but there's room for all of these stories in #MeToo. Ansari's case seems murkier but it's the narrative that messier and perhaps more relevant and insidious to all of our lives.
I'm left with questions. What does accountability look like for people who have violated others during sexual encounters? What does accountability look like for those who have committed sexual assault and harassment? Do we extend them an opportunity to grow? Or do some especially egregious abuses in power not deserve this consideration? What kinds of punishment are congruent with our values? In what ways do we really believe in reform? Can people reform if there seem to express no remorse? How do we challenge larger cultural attitudes that normalize encounters like Grace and Ansari's and structures that allow over a hundred women to be assaulted by Nassar? I have so many questions, but I'm hopeful about gaining clarity and momentum because we're in the midst of a remarkable time of change.
xoxo,
Juhi
When I read the account, my heart just went out to Grace for having to describe every single painful detail. She knew that people wouldn't take her story seriously without graphic and painstaking depth because either we want to believe that bad things like assault don't happen or because we're more inclined to give a powerful man the benefit of the doubt than some nameless woman online who's ~probably just trying to get attention~ (bleh). It was painful to read (partially because Babe didn't do the best job reporting this but anyways). To me, it seemed clear that Grace wasn't okay with what was happening, that she felt violated.
But many women have expressed their doubt. The encounter feels all too familiar for some, and labeling it as "assault" forces us to reexamine our own experiences through that lens. If Grace was assaulted, then has everyone we know been assaulted too? Maybe. But maybe not. Context matters. A woman could be in the same exact situation as Grace, but if she's a different person, she may take away a different experience. It doesn't have to be labeled assault or coercion or intimidation- but if Grace felt violated, then how can we as complete strangers say that she wasn't? It was the responsibility of her partner to ensure she felt safe, and he failed. He should have known better. And it doesn't seem like he's particularly interested in trying to do better moving forward.
(Side note- I will say that it is uncomfortable to see Ansari under fire by a lotta white women who didn't seem as angry about white men who have been accused by more women.... I don't want there to be a racial dimension and I'm not sure if it's even worth mentioning but it feels a bit remiss to leave out.)
Anyways, I'm wondering now how much it matters to label Grace's experience. Some people insist it's assault and some people really want it to be bad sex, but maybe some times, violation can't be neatly categorized. And maybe getting bogged down with defining this one individual encounter in a singular moment in time is drawing our attention away from widespread attitudes, norms, policies that we continue to allow to exist. "Our normal is awful", one writer at Bust says.
American values encourage us to believe deeply in the agency of the individual, and our instinct is to provide credit or assign blame to singular people like Ansari. But this neoliberal response overlooks the ways in which we are products of our culture. Thinking critically about how we collectively think about sex, expectations, and boundaries is important because these pervasive attitudes affect the way we interact with each other. Speaking in broad strokes here, but how have women been rewarded for behaviors like being gentle and tactful (read: not direct), and how do those habits affect how we assert ourselves in sexual encounters? How does fear of and a tradition of violence affect the ways in which we present our agency? What expectations are men implicitly taught about sex? How do a lack of consequences for transgressions allow a terrible status quo to perpetuate? What about when sex is consensual but bad? How can we work to really change these elements so deeply embedded in our culture? It's also important to note that so much of the national conversation (and this blog post) centers heterosexual encounters, but sexual aggression is just as much of an issue in LGBTQ experiences.
We have to acknowledge that there are no nice guys (or gals) when it comes to sexual assault and harassment. We are all capable of violating someone else's boundaries. Whether we do it or not requires a firm grasp on the definition of consent (the absence of no doesn't always mean yes), a healthy respect for other people, and a bit of self-awareness. And still these ingredients aren't quite enough- "feminist" men like Ansari who are familiar with nuance still violate boundaries without realizing it (or actively knowing something was wrong and pretending otherwise because "by all indications it was consensual"?).
It's worth saying that this is a different sort of case than what we've seen so far with #MeToo. Many of the women who have come forward with this movement have shared experiences with bosses and superiors, men who held an element of power over women's economic stability. The details of Grace's story aren't the same and neither are they as clean, and it's frustrating. But reality is messy, and a lot of sexual violence and trauma defies neat boundaries and definitions. And this reality needs to drive us towards constantly striving for better for everyone.
Another dimension of this is due process. It's tough because a single, anonymous source can be enough to make someone guilty of something very bad. No matter what people are accused of though, they deserve due process in a legal sense but how does that translate to the court of social opinion? For so long, women have held in so much trauma, they've been belittled and mocked and put in real danger for telling their stories. It's felt like no one has taken them seriously and that these violations merit no real consequences.
We've reached a tipping point and it's all swung in the opposite direction and finally we feel validated. Now some warn against the "mania" of #MeToo, which sounds patronizing but we have to make sure we stay grounded and measured. As the process of assigning guilt and blame quickens and punishments are doled out fast, we have to reflect on what kinds of consequences we really believe in.
Imagine the case of a university professor who's been accused of sexual harassment. He's also been a powerful opponent of greedy corporations and has influenced a lot of policy that has protected the country against their influence. He's teaching students, and it feels uncomfortable- but he is an expert in the field. Should students who are interested in his area of research be denied an instructor before the investigation is over? If he were to be found guilty of the charges, would that invalidate his entire body of contributions to society? Should it?
#MeToo encapsulates a lot of different types of violation, harassment, abuses of power, assault, and violence. These are tough and uncomfortable conversations. On one hand, I want us to live in a society with zero tolerance towards sexual assault. On the other, the reality is that a LOT of people have done it... Firing them does open up space and opportunity for people who haven't committed sexual assault to replace them, but destroying careers just doesn't seem like a sustainable or effective solution. Sure, it feels great at the moment and we feel heard but what does it say about our values? That we're out for blood and willing to punish people severely without second chances?
In some cases, absolutely. The case of Larry Nassar, US Gymnastics, and the 130 women who have come forward with stories of sexual abuse is absolutely unacceptable. It evokes a visceral response when I think about how this was allowed to happen, especially since he was a doctor. I don't have the stomach to read through the history of the case, but if whispers of wrongdoing or even one woman's account were taken seriously over the years, could countless women have been protected? How do can we better prevent gross abuses in power and investigate the truth in a timely fashion?
The US Gymnastics situation is much much different than Ansari's but there's room for all of these stories in #MeToo. Ansari's case seems murkier but it's the narrative that messier and perhaps more relevant and insidious to all of our lives.
I'm left with questions. What does accountability look like for people who have violated others during sexual encounters? What does accountability look like for those who have committed sexual assault and harassment? Do we extend them an opportunity to grow? Or do some especially egregious abuses in power not deserve this consideration? What kinds of punishment are congruent with our values? In what ways do we really believe in reform? Can people reform if there seem to express no remorse? How do we challenge larger cultural attitudes that normalize encounters like Grace and Ansari's and structures that allow over a hundred women to be assaulted by Nassar? I have so many questions, but I'm hopeful about gaining clarity and momentum because we're in the midst of a remarkable time of change.
xoxo,
Juhi
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