Dear Julia. A couple of thoughts on normalization of the horrific.

Standard

In the past three years, three women friends of mine who I hold dear, have confided in me that at some point in their lives they were sexually harassed, assaulted and/or abused.

There’s no way to sugarcoat truths like these and while the point is not to keep tabs, it does beg the question “if three women in my inner circle felt comfortable enough to trust me with these terrible grievances, how many more are hiding their pain completely in the dark?” Well, according to a Brain Gallup poll published on December 2017, an appalling 46% of Mexican women admit they’ve been victims of sexual harassment. This is seriously messed up and it should bring shame to all Mexicans.

The #MeToo movement has not caught on in Mexico as much as in the United States. Some celebrities like Mexican playwright Sabina Berman, a sexual assault survivor herself, have explained that machismo is so engrained in our culture and societally accepted behavior, that women who find the courage to speak out are often ostracized, labeled as troublemakers and limited in their professional opportunities.

Now I applaud the intention and the courage of the pioneers of the #MeToo movement everywhere around the world, but this thought piece is less about that and more about my worries surrounding our normalization of abuse. Let me explain…

A couple of months ago, I was having a colloquial conversation with a dear friend… for privacy and reference purposes, let’s call her Julia. We were catching up as we had not seen each other for a while and, in the midst of chatting, she shared with me that she was worried about an upcoming professional project because a man who had sexually assaulted her when she was a minor, would be involved in the project. Like many other women who’ve gone through these horrors, Julia went on to explain that when the abuse happened years ago, she did not denounce the act, partly due to shame and naiveté and partly since as hinted earlier, it’s harder to speak out in a culture hard-wired to discard sexual violence, celebrate misogyny and sideline whistleblowers.

As I am reliving the moments when my friend shared with me these horrific memories, I find myself completely dumbfounded about the way that I reacted to her cry for help. When she finished sharing the details of the situation, I immediately went into problem-managing move, describing possible scenarios, calculating pros and cons for each alternative, creating conceptual maps in my head… I should have just hugged her immediately, held her close for at least a couple of minutes to show how much I cared about her in a moment of open vulnerability. Instead, I went into “the way I see it you have these options…” And herein lies the problem: could it be that I’ve begun to normalize the concept of sexual assault in my head? Just to be clear, by “normalize” I don’t mean “justify”, I mean that hearing about it and seeing it close to home no longer astounds me the way I think it should.

Maybe I’ve just been overexposed and have grown a thicker skin than I would like. Very early in my professional life, I worked on a project to combat trafficking in persons in Ecuador, mostly victims of sexual exploitation. I saw and learned of things too harrowing to even want to mention in this blog. I’ve seen the vice of sexual harassment in the lives of friends, I’ve read about multitudes of cases in the news and I’ve seen the tide of the #MeToo movement overtake social media and mainstream conversation… I posit that this overexposure could be having a numbing effect and it worries me.

The first time we see something new, be it negative such as an act of violence or positive, like the first time you attend a Cirque du Soleil show, your mind reacts in an enhanced way, precisely because it is new and unexpected. As you experience the same situation over and over, your margin of amazement begins diminishing, to the point where people learn to live exposed to the risk of violence or even the wildest contortion act in Cirque becomes unsurprisingly bleh.

MeToo_img-The-Nation-1024x644On October 15th, 2017, actress Alyssa Milano wrote the tweet that got the #MeToo movement off the ground.  When we heard the news about Harvey Weinstein, it was loud, it was amazing, it caught media attention, it was BIG and #MeToo REALLY flourished. But then came Kevin Spacey and Al Franken and the whole discrediting debate and divide related to the Aziz Ansari story, and so on and so forth… and we started normalizing and trivializing the phenomenon. Have we gotten to the point were if we hear about another case of sexual abuse we’re no longer appalled? If not, are we heading in that direction? In trying to raise awareness are we in a strange juxtaposition breeding a society were sexual misconduct becomes expected?

Maybe it’s time to commit to an ideal where we encourage people to break the silence, raise our voice against that which we hold reproachable but also ACTIVELY remind ourselves that we cannot ever allow normalization of this, even if it is a recourse of best intentions and a means to fast track into providing solutions. We MUST allow ourselves to feel angry and disgusted and to empathize with people to confide in us, to feel their pains, to support more by allowing ourselves to feel more and hence, love more.

Dear Julia, te quiero mucho. I’m here for you and I’m sorry for what you went through and I’m sorry I did not hug you really, really hard.

 

 

 

 

I get called “a good dad” a lot

Standard

Context: I’m a man, a husband and a father living in Monterrey, Mexico.

I get called “a good dad” a lot. Stating this is by no means, an intention of bragging.

HiRes-1024x661I get called a good dad when we’re at an airport, I notice my toddler needs a diaper change and I tell my wife “we’ll be right back, this one needs to go to the bathroom.” I get called a good dad when I take my kids out to breakfast on Sunday so that Mommy can get a much-deserved extra hour of sleep. People call me a good dad when I take my kids to a birthday party and endure the loud screaming, running around and ordinal chaos that occurs in such events. I get called a good dad when I calm my son down after a fall with a scraped knee, when I play tag with my daughters in the park or when I’m able to get them to an afternoon class on time. I get called a good dad by other mothers when I go to parent-teacher conferences at our kids’ school.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for any recognition I get. I am very conscious of my responsibility and role as a father to try to be the best paternal figure I can be toward my kids. I work on this every day and every way that I can. But consider the following:

  1. My wife does these and many other similar things as a parent to our children. She does them ALL the time and quite frankly, most of the time she does them better than I do (not because of her gender, just due to her personal talents). Does she get called a good mom? Sure… but not nearly as often and not nearly with the level of appraisal and amazement as the “good dad” comments I receive from random people in the street. My wife, as a woman and a mother, is socially EXPECTED to be a good mom. Apparently, being a good mom is considered normalcy, which raises several questions: does society think that good moms are good effortlessly? Do we really think that each and every challenge that drives other people crazy about dealing with kids has zero effect on mothers? If so, without any surgical operations, is there a way to turn me into a mother? Now? Please?

Sarcasm aside, being a mom is damn hard. It’s not something that happens magically or naturally. Even when you factor in your belief of the power “maternal instinct” may have, that only accounts for a mother’s intention to love and protect her children, not her talents to do so effectively.

  1. Apparently, society has very low expectations of what my duties as a father are. If what I am doing generates amazement and reasons for praise, what are average dads doing? Should we be worried about that? Why are we being way too complacent toward fathers? Even if you believe that traditional (old) roles where a mother stays at home and a dad goes to work apply (and trust me, even if you wanted them to, in this economy they don’t), that arrangement should not give men a pass at being fathers. What happened to the women’s liberation movement and why did it not tackle societal gender and paternal/maternal roles? We should be diligently working on reassessing society’s demands on dads. How can we get the ball rolling on that? Now? Please?

If we never expect fathers to be good fathers, they never will be. If we don’t demand fatherly figures to step up their game, we will continue raising children with less than adequate paternal examples who grow up to be less than adequate fathers themselves… in a downward spiral.

  1. People are very strange. As mentioned above, we apparently underappreciate good mothers and overvalue good fathers… But when Mother’s Day and Father’s Day come along, we tend to be way more festive on May 10th than on the third Sunday of June. Is that our guilt trip acting up on us? Do we know that we suck at valuing moms all year and hence try to overcompensate this in one measly day? I propose the following: let’s recognize good moms AND dads all year long and when deserved, equate Mother’s Day and Father’s Day celebrations. Meaning? If you suck at being a mom or a dad, you should not get a cool gift for it. And if you truly are a good mom or dad, congratulations and know that I applaud your efforts and admire you immensely. That is the best gift I know to give.

Sincerely,

A guy trying to be a good dad, but not always achieving it.