They say when you hear something over and over again it seeps into your mind to such a degree that it's no longer shocking. Nor do the details seem to matter. Instead, we become immune to it all.
That's what's happening to Americans who are waking up each day to yet another sexual harassment claim. The story, which only weeks ago was solely about Harvey Weinstein, has unleashed a tsunami of allegations against powerful men in America's two most powerful industries: Hollywood and the media. What to conclude from it all is murky at best.
Hollywood wants you to believe it's all so obvious:
Men are pigs. The media wants you to know that
harassment of women in the workplace is unacceptable. Few would disagree with the latter, but it isn't that simple. The issue goes much, much deeper.
I've written for years about Hollywood and the media, never about this particular subject but always about the corruption of these two industries.
We're making a mistake to assume sexual harassment is equally rampant across all other industries. It is not. Hollywood and the media are unlike any other work environment - to compare these two worlds with other work environments is absurd. Most workplaces aren't saturated in sex the way these two industries are, mainly because there are no cameras that demand men and women (especially women) look sexy and perfectly coiffed all the time.
In an environment like that, of course sexual innuendo, sexual overtures, and, yes, sexual harassment is going to occur.
The very air these folks breathe is sexual, and most people know this going in. Those who want to be actors and journalists - in other words, in the media spotlight - are people who want and need attention. They like the power of the camera; it feeds their egos. If you put a bunch of men and women with this mentality together every single day, sparks are going to fly.
Between the make-up room, the clothes, the playacting, and the cameras, it all begs for things to go wrong.The notion that women in these industries are innocent is silly.
Yes, the men and women (we don't hear about them, but they're there) who prey upon those who are young and unsuspecting is wrong. Of course it's wrong. But mixed in with these bad apples are just as many women who know exactly what they're doing.These men we call sexual "predators,"
most of whom are not raping women but are, in effect, sexually propositioning them, would not be successful if there were fewer women willing to participate in such a way that allows the men to think their advances are welcome. A common thread among the men who've been accused is that, while they've apologized for being inappropriate, honestly they thought they were flirting with women who were flirting with them. They believed it was a two-way street.
I'm not referring to the Harvey Weinstein debacle,
but to the torrent of subsequent harassment claims in which men who are guilty of egregious behavior are lumped in with men who flirt. And that is a slippery slope.Flirting in the workplace, some of which crosses the line and becomes harassment and most of which doesn't, has been around for decades. Of course, there were fewer women in the workplace back in the day, and America had yet to become such a morally vacuous country. But it was there nonetheless.
My mother, for instance, was a stockbroker in the 1950s - clearly a male-dominated field.
When she faced sexism at the company for which she worked, she quit and found another company, also male-dominated, that was happy to have her and where the men treated her well.But the fact remains that my mother was a flirt. A big one, actually. She was also beautiful. But in those days, the women who
were in the workforce knew how to handle these situations better. They recognized that putting men and women together in a workplace environment with no spouses or children in sight was precarious. They knew sexual energy would be in the air. To believe otherwise, to believe it's possible for it to be otherwise, is just silly.
There will always be Harvey Weinsteins in the world, and they will always dominate in Hollywood and the media.
But the answer to this problem is not to castigate all men as potential sexual predators and women as innocent victims. It's to recognize the delicate nature of putting men and women together all day in an environment that's meant solely for work. Consider how many people meet their spouses at work-that alone proves the workplace is never without chemistry.Bottom line:
Every exchange between the sexes at work does not constitute 'harassment.' To suggest otherwise is a slippery slope.
OMG. I remember years ago, I went for a casting for a TV commercial. I think it was Bendick's chocolates, or someone-else's-chocolates, whatever.
The brief was: I was like this 1920's guy on a chaise-longue, kissing this 1920's woman in 1920's mode.
I was sitting on a chaise-longue with this girl, and I went into my action. The casting director shouted over at us "NO!!! NO!!! NO!!! Not like that!!! Give it some OOOmph!!! Get stuck into it properly!!!"
So we did. Over, and over, and over again.
After so many takes, I had swallowed so much of this girl's saliva that it started having this incredibly weird biochemical warfare, amore-amore-amore, pharmaceutical effect on me.
Anyway....
After the casting was over, I returned home, only to find that I had been stricken 'ill with Love'. and for about a whole week, I could-not-for-the-life-of-me stop thinking about this girl, and I hadn't even spoken to her. I would wake up in the middle of the night - thinking about this girl. When I walked down the street - I'd be thinking about this girl. What was doubly bizarre was: I didn't even know her name, and couldn't even remember what she looked like, but I could-not-stop-thinking-about-this-girl.
Anyway....
A week went by, and the phone rang - "Hey, HFL, guess what??? You got that Bendick's (or whatever it was) job!!!".
Great!
I was pleased that I got the job, but I kept on thinking: "Oh no, my life is just about to go upside-down haywire-twatso. I'm going to have to split up with my girlfriend. I'm going to have to look for somewhere new to live, blah blah blah. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Anyway....
The shoot date comes. I turn up at the studio, ready-as-I'll-ever-be-for-whatever-fate-has-in-store-for me. I go onto set, only to find - The client hadn't picked amore-chemical-girl for the job, they'd chosen this other actress, and we both instantly hated-each-others-guts. Thankfully, her spit chemicals had no effect on me whatsoever, and the biohazardous amore-amore-amore lurve pharmaceuticals from the other chick wore off after a few days.
LOL.