Choose Your Own Deflection
13 Comments That Miss the Point in Our Discussion of Predation
This is a follow-up to my post Indie Publishing Has a Creep Problem.
As the conversation about predators in our industry has continued, my hope is that it can keep up momentum so this isn’t another lip-service discussion, so that something will change at the fundamental level of our understanding about predation and power.
I’ve read every comment on the shares of my original post and on the post itself (oh yes, I saw you talking about me), and I’ve spotted some dangerous varieties of comments that may seem supportive but actually detract and distract from the discussion we need to have.
I know how intense social programing in, as I’ve had to unpack it myself and continue to do so, finding little splinters of internalized misogyny lodged inside me every day. This is a lifelong process.
So, let me break down a few of the harmful types of comments along with why they’re harmful, not helpful. We can unpack this together.
If you’ve said one of these things as a response to my original post or any post along the same lines, your first instinct might be to explain to yourself why I’M wrong and YOU’RE misunderstood. I get it. We don’t like to face the reality that we might’ve harmed when we meant to help. It sucks. I’ve been there. I’m sure I’ll be there again.
But you also have the option to accept that you unintentionally did the wrong thing and then learn how not to do that anymore. In the words of Maya Angelou, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
Here we go.
1. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” And that’s it. That’s the comment.
I shared a personal story to illustrate a much larger problem I want us to discuss. My story was not the point. This is not about me. I just don’t feel comfortable sharing anyone’s story but my own, and I had plenty to choose from. These types of comments show me that the person missed the point so broadly that they never laid eyes on it.
They probably meant the best, and I appreciate that they didn’t feel like that should have happened to me, but they’re letting themselves off incredibly easy by viewing this as an isolated incident and not something rampant that will take all of us to fix.
2. “Is this about [person or specific setting]?”
I don’t know why people seem to think this problem is isolated to a single or even a handful of people or settings. I can only assume wishful thinking is behind this. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could root out a few key offenders and this would never happen again? I would love that. But it’s not the case. Becoming hyper focused like this misses the point and does not advance the conversation.
But also, maybe we should be asking why so many people immediately thought of the same few groups and people.
3. “This happens in every industry.”
I address that in the piece, actually. But also, our discussion is focused on indie publishing, the industry where we have a stake in the outcomes and the power to make change. Too frequently, the sentiment that “this is an everywhere problem” is used as a way to shut people up and discourage anyone from trying to change things. It’s cynical at best, silencing at worst.
If you’re telling me about your toxic work environment where your boss lords his power over you, wastes your time, and is sexually aggressive toward you, how would it feel to hear me say, “Well, that happens everywhere. Not sure why you think you’re so special.” Does that make you feel heard or dismissed? I can’t imagine myself saying this to someone I care about.
4. “Why didn’t she just X?”
Monday morning quarterbacking someone’s violating moments is not a good look. This question is also not asked in good faith. If you really want to know why the victim reacted the way she did, close your eyes, imagine the setting, the stakes, what kind of person would put her in that position, what the reaction of that type of person would likely be to rejection or humiliation, and whether her acting differently would have worked out well for her or not in the long run.
I think when you do that exercise properly, you’ll discover the answer, and you’ll probably find, if you’re honest with yourself, that you wouldn’t have done differently in her position. Also, this sentiment is a pretty obvious case of victim blaming. Why didn’t SHE do something differently? Why didn’t HE is my question.
When you ask this question publicly, whether you mean to or not, you’re signaling to every person who’s experienced these aggressions that you’re not a safe person to tell about them.
5. “Name names!”
This shows a real lack of understanding of the nature of these sorts of offenses. If the man did not hold more perceived power in the situation than the female victim, she would likely have no problem kneeing him in the groin and telling everyone around. So when she doesn’t do that, what does that tell you?
These offenses are almost always unexpected. The creep or predator catches the woman on her heels. Because of that, there is almost never proof. Even if there is, say, biological evidence of a crime, unless there are physical injuries (and even then), men can claim there was verbal consent, and then it’s her word against his.
I’m married to a cop, so I can tell you that this is the unfortunate flaw in the systems of our world. My husband can know in his heart that there was no consent, write it in his report, and arrest the perpetrator, but there’s still a strong chance that the offender will get off without punishment.
Knowing all that, what do you think is to be gained by naming names for LESSER offenses?
I understand the desire for justice — that’s why I’m spending so much of my time on this discussion when I need to be revising my books — but I care more about the victim’s emotional and physical safety, and it’s often unsafe to call people out.
If I call people out based on stories I’ve heard from women I believe, I’ll be hit with a lawsuit by the named party in a flash unless the women come forward to back me up. I won’t force their hand like that, and neither should you. It’s not safe to name names, and with our current set up, it doesn’t lead to accountability anyway, it only traumatizes the victim all over again.
6. “I’ve never experienced this because…”
If you’ve never experienced this kind of predation, it’s because the universe spun the wheel of shit luck and it didn’t land on you, that’s why. Period. To say, “I’ve never experienced this,” is fine if that’s your truth. Does it contribute to the discussion about those who have? Not really. But you’re free to say it.
It’s the “because” in this sentiment that is so unfortunate. It implies that there is a proper way for a woman to live to avoid being sexually harassed, assaulted, coerced, or preyed upon. That’s just not true, and it’s a roundabout way of victim blaming. Let me reiterate: if you haven’t been victimized, you’ve gotten lucky, that’s all.
7. “Let me know in the future, and I’ll kick his ass.”
Have you considered that this is why women haven’t let you know? If a woman is scared of her predator, she might not want to bring the attention to it that your self-serving ass-kicking might bring. And if you do successfully beat him to a pulp? Where do you think that rage and humiliation will be aimed? At the physically superior being or the one he knows is in a power-down position?
I totally understand this this is, at its heart, a generous offer of help. But it doesn’t help. Please hear that and think about it, even if it makes you emotionally uncomfortable.
8. “If any man ever tried this on me, I would [insert violent act].”
This is the kind of statement folks say to reaffirm an identity we hold about ourselves like, “I am a strong person,” or “I am fearless.” But to believe that every woman who does not react the way you fantasize yourself reacting is somehow NOT strong or brave is offensive, even if you didn’t mean it to be. Strong people still get caught in power-down positions. Courageous people still get scared into inaction.
I see this response more as a way of assuring the scared or vulnerable parts of ourselves that “this won’t happen to me,” because it’s too terrifying of a thought. It’s not helpful to the victim, who probably thought, prior to the incident, that she would have a stronger response than she was able to in a situation like that. Part of the trauma in this sort of thing is confronting the truth that we’re not the type of person we had thought we would be in that situation. Until you’ve found yourself in that same position, you don’t know if your body will respond with fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. You can flatter your ego to believe one thing or another, but you just don’t know.
And again, when you express this publicly, you’re sending a clear signal to victims that you’re not someone they can report the encounter to without judgement.
9. “If this happens to you, let me know! I’m a safe person.”
Sir or ma’am, I don’t know who the hell you are, so I don’t know that you’re a safe person. Neither does anyone else in this comment section.
Probably this offer is done in a generous spirit, but it shows such a lack of understanding about how predators operate. Predators act like refuge. They act like allies. That’s how they pull people in. If they looked like the creature from the black lagoon and said disgusting things all the time, they’d hardly be the problem that are today. We’d spot them and stay far, far away.
This is yet another statement that does not advance the conversation an inch. It ends up being an attempt to portray yourself publicly in a particular way rather than doing the hard work of wondering, “Why didn’t they come see me when it happened? What could I do to show that I’m a safe person?”
10. “This would never happen at [setting/event].”
*Heavy sigh* Yes, it would. And if the overwhelming sentiment among attendees is that “bad things don’t happen here,” then when they inevitably do, victims will not feel safe coming forward because they know they will be met with disbelief.
We’ll never reach predator-zero, but we can create spaces that keep the victim from feeling shame and fear in the aftermath, and that eliminates a good portion of the trauma.
11. “Some men are just awkward. Cut them a break.”
Women know what an awkward man is like. Hell, we’re awkward, too! We have experience with this, and we generally give a lot of grace in this area. So when we say he’s being a creep or a predator, we aren’t talking about him being awkward. Please just listen to us. Unless you were there and witnessed the interaction, you can’t possibly know what happened better than the victim, so please stop acting like it.
This is also what’s known as “himpathy,” and I’ve seen so much of it this week. It’s when someone prioritizes the feelings of the perpetrator over the safety and feelings of the victim. It takes a lot of practice to recognize when we do this, because we’ve been socially programmed for it our whole lives. But I don’t think anyone wants to behave this way, so start the work on yourself before you speak like this again, please.
12. “These predators will always be around.”
True! I agree! Do you believe saying this publicly this is helpful in advancing the conversation about making our industry safer for everyone? Or are you trying to let yourself off the hook of doing that hard work and feeling uncomfortable for a little while?
If you complete that sentence with, “so we need to make it as easy and painless as possible for victims to speak up and see their perpetrator held accountable,” then I’m with you. But if you don’t add something to the effect of that last part, I’m not with you. Go away and come back with something constructive.
13. “Women get handsy and inappropriate too.”
No lie detected. But why are you mentioning it in the context of a discussion about men preying upon women? This is called “changing the subject” and it’s not helpful.
It also misses a crucial understanding of power dynamics. If a man is of a smaller and weaker physical stature than a woman target, holds no power in her field, and is not armed, she will likely have no problem rejecting him and reporting him as inappropriate. (If you knew the number of public masturbation calls my husband gets in his line of work, you’d understand.) And that’s because the power differential is weighted toward her side. If no one likes the man but they do like and respect the woman, they will probably believe what she says.
This is a rare instance, as you might imagine, and that’s why my post was focused on men in power positions. They don’t have to be at the top of anything. If they are more established than their female target, they have the power in the interaction.
It’s important to understand that when it’s his word against hers, his wins. This is the standard. “How many women does it take to expose a predator?” is a perverse kind of changing-the-lightbulb joke. So even if the man and woman are physically and socially equal in all ways, if something occurs, his word will be taken over hers. This is because we’re more concerned about the possibility of him being falsely accused than we are of the possibility that a victim will be silenced and dismissed.
Then add in the usual physical difference between the man and woman. Then imagine if he has more power in their community.
When people make this an issue of men as predator and women as prey, this is why. Because women start from a power-down position as a default.
Are there situations where a man would not feel safe speaking up? Oh, certainly. I’ve heard stories about male cover models at romance conventions getting felt up without consent, and I understand totally why that would be violating: they worry that speaking up will lose them their jobs. And it might. I feel for anyone in this position who has to disconnect temporarily from their body to “get through” a violation for the sake of keeping access to their income. I’ve been through this, and it took me a decade to fully reconnect to my body after.
So, shall I call this a “women and male cover models at romance conventions” issue? Or are the vast number of victims in the industry I’m discussing women to the point where it makes a certain kind of sense to talk about it in the terms I’ve been using?
Listen, I know this is a power thing more than a gender thing. But if I start talking about it that way, it will lose people very quickly, and because we live in a sexist and misogynistic culture, the power differential shakes out pretty much right down the lines of gender anyway.
(And race, sexual orientation, etc. It’s technically impossible to separate this problem of gender oppression from all the other forms of oppression, but I do know that too much all at once shuts people down. However, once people truly start to see the ugly truths of our systems, they start to see them everywhere. That’s my hope. Maybe I’m flawed in this approach. I don’t know yet.)
I’ve just spent this post discussing what’s unhelpful to add to the discussion, so what is helpful, you might wonder?
Here are some options to get you started:
1. “I’ve experienced this too. Thank you for bringing attention to it.”
This helps those who haven’t experienced it see the expansiveness of the problem and put faces to the abstract. It’s why #metoo was so powerful. Of course, if you’re not comfortable saying that, no pressure.
2. “I’m sorry this has happened to you and that it continues to happen to so many people. I’m going to think about ways I might’ve contributed to making women feel less safe.”
All the solutions start with self-reflection.
3. “I’ve shared this with a group I’m in, and we’re discussing paths forward, ways to reduce friction for victims to report, and how our culture has contributed to this problem.”
This is what true leadership looks like. Personal accountability is key.
I would love to see every creep and predator held accountable for what they’ve done. Unfortunately, we don’t have a system that does that yet, and our attempts at accountability tend to cause additional harm to the victim and lead to no meaningful consequences for the perpetrator.
So we must do that first, and it’s hard work. But we’re writers. We’re smart people, and the community is small enough to create change. With enough of us working on this, we could become an example for other industries, we could be the beacon of equality and inclusion we want to be.
It takes tough, honest work, and that starts in each of us.
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Claire Taylor has published over 30 humor and mystery books across various pen names. She also provides fiction and career consulting for other writers through her company FFS Media.
