Living A More Integrated Truth: Is Social Mercy Missing from Social Justice?//Shelby M. Burton, B.S.

Image URL: https://studentaffairscollective.org/diversity-is-great-but-what-about-social-Justice/

I once thought Mercy was as simple as giving second chances. And third chances. And fourth chances.  And fifth and sixth and seventh and eighth chances.  An infinite amount of chances.  I thought that we were ordered by Mercy to pardon everyone from those who made menial mistakes to the enemies liable for our greatest physical and psychological wounds.

I now realize that Mercy is less about accepting apologies and more about the process of healing.  Mercy is the angel on my shoulder glowing with purity and compassion, halo representing the crowning glory of self-forgiveness, wings that will someday grant us freedom from the malice and hatred and sorrow that this earthly world contains. Mercy gives food to the hungry without judgment of the reasons underlying starvation, and she exonerates the most erroneous of crimes—even the crimes you committed against yourself.  When he touched you without consent, Mercy was the embrace of the first person who told you it was not your fault. Mercy is the first time that you finally believed it. Mercy is when you forgave yourself for never being able to forgive him.

I once thought that Justice was the reverse.  That she was the blood-red devil weighing heavily on the opposite shoulder, recklessly angry, a forever fighter (never a lover).  In the face of wrongdoing, she tempted me with the promise of retribution and payback and the frigidity of vengeance running through my veins.  I feared Justice—and I was not even on the receiving end.  I naively thought I had to choose between Mercy and Justice.  Justice felt like too much of a burden to carry, and I was weak enough by this point.

Until I realized that Justice is not a devil at all.  She is a soldier.  And it is not retribution she seeks, per se; rather, Justice seeks respect and harmony and peace.  So. Much. Peace.  Justice empowers the powerless.  She is honest and brave and resilient.  She is the sister-friend who marches beside you to advocate for women’s rights.  She is the representative who hears of your abuse and understands that in order for real change to happen, we need better policies, increased protection, an entire societal shift in thinking.  Justice not only hears you when you speak, she perseveres until your worth as a human being is honored.

I got to thinking: If my definitions of Mercy and Justice carry such extensive baggage,
what kind of baggage does society hold and how is it reflected on both the micro and macro levels?  Is Mercy perceived as more loving but for the weak, while Justice is inappropriately perceived as vengeful but nevertheless effective?  Is this why we choose to align with one or the other?  And how is this dialectical response creating unnecessary noise in our existential journey toward growth? How is it informing our governmental policy, the criminal Justice system, ethical procedures, economic norms?  How about Social Justice? Because when we explicitly choose one, we also actively reject the other. 

Social Justice advocacy is inspiring.  We are a passionate group of people but we are also infuriated—it is a helpless feeling to realize that you have been blinded from very strategic atrocities and muted when responding to them. It is freeing to speak in a world you have only experienced silently, but it is exhausting to speak those words when they fall among deaf ears.  And it is in this endless cycle of enlightenment, powerlessness, and the illusion of freedom that the fire within surfaces and consumes, and Justice becomes our mission.

But in keeping our linguistic baggage in mind, it can feel like there is no space for Social Mercy in the intimidating face of Social Justice.  We do not want to find ourselves looking ignorant in the midst of a movement, but we want to fight.  We want to learn, but we do not want to look stupid asking the questions.  I propose that this  phenomenon is occurring due to one of two reasons:
1. You are not ready to be merciful towards yourself—which requires that you confront your failings and work hard to lessen any cognitive dissonance potentially sparked by incongruent actions.  Could it be that you refuse to forgive yourself because you are not ready to terminate the behaviors that do not align with the very beliefs you say you fight for?  And the guilt associated with being merciful toward yourself is overpowering, so you opt out of self-forgiveness altogether?
2. Others are not being merciful toward you.  And if you are truly doing the hard stuff—confronting your own ignorance, persevering, remaining open-minded—do not let mercilessness stop you.  Some of us have been so wronged that Mercy is not a feasible option quite yet.  Show them Mercy instead.  We are all just trying to do our best.

Because.  The realization that I can raucously advocate for peace, while also holding myself to a standard of grace not perfection.  The knowledge that I am going to mess up in the process.  The commitment and intentionality to never stop trying. The epiphany that I am both propelled by the fire, and inspired to warm others with my fumes.  This is what it means to be living justly and mercifully.  And so, I challenge you to consider: In what ways are you living dialectically?  And how can you benefit by living a more integrated truth?

Written By Shelby M. Burton, B.S.

Make Way for Female Sexual Enthusiasm Within Sexual Scripts//Annika Johnson

Photo Credit: The Aurora Center for Advocacy & Education

Current attention on the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements has pushed sexual consent into the spotlight. Many recent stories are urging us to reflect on our current sexual scripts and it has become increasingly apparent these scripts are flawed. Sexual scripts are the context in which consent is negotiated, so it is important to reflect on the literature regarding common consent practices.

If you have observed sexual consent negotiations, or lack thereof, within the media then it may come as no surprise to you how young adults have been navigating sexual encounters. When looking at young adults, research has shown indirect and nonverbal communication to be the most common approach to negotiating sexual consent. Typically, this looks like avoidance of direct conversations and relying solely on nonverbal and passive approaches. This method prevails due to the prevalent fear of rejection. When young adults perceived a possible negative reaction to their sexual communication they were less likely to use sexual consent behaviors. This highlights a current problem within our culture, which is the notion that establishing affirmative consent may be embarrassing. Therefore, we have been relying upon completely unreliable passive methods to establish sexual consent, such as “not resisting” as indicative of sexual consent.

On the other side of the coin, there is the notion of token resistance. Within the traditional heterosexual sexual script, men are to advance sexual contact, and women are to serve as “gatekeepers” for the sexual activity. Token resistance is the predominant idea that women within this script engage in resistant behaviors even though they want and intend to participate. However, this notion is proving to be more of a myth, research shows us token resistance is far from common. Most women denied ever using token resistance as a part of their sexual script.
Sadly, when token resistance was used by women, it was often to protect their sexual reputation for fear of being perceived “too sexually eager”.

This research shows us that as we continue to move forward within the #MeToo and Time’s Up movement it will be essential to encourage female sexual empowerment. True sexual consent can only thrive in a culture that encourages women to enthusiastically engage in sexual encounters, without shame or embarrassment.

Written by: Annika Johnson

References

Hickman, S. E., & Muehlenhard, C. L. (1999). "By the semi-mystical appearance of a condom": How young women and men communicate sexual consent in heterosexual situations. Journal of Sex Research, 36, 258-272. doi: 10.1080/00224499909551996

Humphreys, T. P. (2004). Understanding sexual consent: An empirical investigation of the normative script for young heterosexual adults. In M. Cowling & P. Reynolds (Eds.), Making Sense of Sexual Consent, (pp. 209-225). Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

Jozkowski, K. N., & Peterson, Z. D. (2013). College students and sexual consent: Unique insights. Journal of Sex Research, 50, 517-523. doi:10.1080/00224499.2012.700739

Jozkowski, K. N., Peterson, Z. D., Sanders, S. A., Dennis, B., & Reece, M. (2014). Gender differences in heterosexual college students’ conceptualization and indicators of sexual consent: Implications for contemporary sexual assault prevention education. Journal of Sex Research, 51, 904-916. doi: 10.1080/00224499.2013.792326

My Program is Honoring a Sexist//Valerie Ryan

Photo from: https://www.flickr.com/photos/devlinthompson/2872580956

Every time I listen to the radio it seems like there is a new story about sexual abuse and harassment, and the people telling the stories (many of them women) are actually being heard. The perpetrators are losing their jobs and going to jail – it’s incredible and long overdue. Yet in the midst of all this, my PhD program is putting up a plaque to commemorate the life and work of a misogynistic professor who passed away last semester. Or, at least, one professor is trying to have the plaque approved by the dean of the college.

One month into the fall semester, an email informed faculty and students in our department that one of our oldest professors (we’ll call him Professor C), had passed away at the age of 73 due to cancer. Five people replied all to express their sadness, while many of us chose to make no public comments. After all, we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, even if the person who died was a sexist curmudgeon.

The sad irony is that the professor who wants to commemorate this man with a plaque (we’ll call her Professor A) often bore the brunt of his gibes and attacks. During my second year of graduate school, I attended a methodology focus area meeting, as I did every month, to spend two hours being nerdy with other quant students and professors. The gender representation at this particular meeting was odd: I was one of only three women, including the group’s faculty advisor, Professor A, in a room of about eight men. Approximately 85% of the grad students in my program are women, so it felt odd to be outnumbered. Perhaps it was the lack of women in the room that prompted Professor C to include the following gem in his presentation on publishing in academic journals: “this might sound sexist, but it’s harder for women to publish, because when they get a rejection they spend all day in bed crying.” This statement was met with horrified silence, which Professor C ignored, acting as though nothing had happened while continuing his diatribe about publishing. I sat there wondering, “why isn’t Professor A saying anything?” Not only was she our faculty advisor, she was also the editor of one of the most prestigious journals in quantitative psychology. I couldn’t even look at the other woman grad student in the room – I felt so uncomfortable.

But I shouldn’t have been surprised by this behavior – Professor C had “taught” a class I took my first semester in grad school, during which he would only answer questions posed by men. In other classes, he would casually use pornography laws as illustrative examples. The man has been described by other faculty members as “the bully in the room” at departmental meetings. He routinely referred to women, including Professor A, as “broads” (a derogatory word used to refer to women sex workers) and almost always had at least one beautiful blonde woman graduate student serving as his fully-funded research assistant. Older students told me horrifying stories about Professor C, such as the time he slapped the a** of the woman who was to become his second wife in front of a group of grad students at a welcome back party.

After the “it’s hard for women to publish” incident I avoided Professor C as much as I could. He regularly attended the methodology focus area meetings but never again made a blatantly sexist comment to the group. Instead, he spoke of the importance of big data initiatives on campus, interrupted Professor A frequently, and only paid attention when the men in the room introduced themselves.

When he died, a menacing presence left our program; the man who sat around basking in his self-importance while treating women like an old piece of gum he couldn’t quite scrape off his shoe was gone. But when I found out that Professor A wanted to put a plaque outside of the quantitative consulting lab to commemorate Professor C, I was upset. I don’t want to be reminded of a man who made me feel less than my male peers every time I enter the lab and use my skills to help faculty and students with their research design and statistical analyses.

The plan to commemorate this man has been temporarily put on hold, though I’m sure Professor A’s tenacity will prevail in the end. At least when it happens, I’ll be able to smile at the fact that everyone entering the quant consulting lab will be greeted by a memorial that, if it could talk, would say in Professor C’s growl: “quantitative consulting has no value.” But only a few of us know what Professor C believed and, maybe, in the future when someone mentions his name others will reply, “oh, you mean the guy who did quant consulting or whatever?” His real work will be forgotten, and his legacy will become entwined with a service he despised. Maybe I’ll start a memorial fund in his name to help women graduate students.

Written by Valerie Ryan

The Cost of Sexual Violence//Colleen Kase

Photo from taraobrien.com

        Over the past several weeks, revelations of sexual assault and harassment have seemed to come spilling out of every corner of American life: the entertainment industry, state and national governments, the media, Olympic sports, and Silicon Valley tech giants, to name just a few. To me, it has felt frustrating to hear some people (mostly men, but some women, too) express their shock or pointed disbelief that these experiences are so prevalent. To me and the women I know, they are shamefully common, an aspect of life as a female-identified person that we have invented a million little strategies to avoid, and another million to cope with when they inevitably occur to us or our loved ones. On the other hand, it feels liberating and exciting to hear so many brave women speak their truths to power, and finally have it make an impact.

       One aspect of this movement that I believe the American public has yet to fully reckon with is the immense price that sexual assault and harassment exact from their victims. The CDC estimates that rape costs approximately $122,461 per victim (or $3.1 trillion overall) in terms of lost productivity, mental and physical health issues, and criminal justice proceedings (Peterson, DeGue, Florence, & Lokey, 2017). Over 80% of women who experience sexual harassment in the workplace leave that workplace within two years, resulting in a significantly higher likelihood of financial instability (McLaughlin, Uggen, & Blackstone, 2017). And the costs are greater for women of color, indigenous women, poor women, and disabled women, who experience sexual violence at higher rates, are less likely to be perceived sympathetically by police, courts, and the media, and are systemically disadvantaged in terms of mental and physical healthcare.

      Of course, the true cost of sexual assault and harassment to its victims, their friends and families, and the culture at large goes far beyond what can be calculated economically. Many survivors of sexual assault and harassment report experiencing a perceived loss of autonomy, decreased self-esteem, and increased interpersonal conflict, on which it is impossible to place a monetary value. The moments of joy, freedom, and independence that have been stolen from survivors can never be truly recouped, even in this new #MeToo era when perpetrators are being fired, censured, and brought to justice in the public spotlight. While this kind of retroactive justice is critically important, the anti-violence feminist movement also needs to inspire a cultural shift away from toxic masculinity and towards consent, respect, and radical empowerment, so that fewer girls and women in the future have to bear this cost in the first place.

Written by Colleen Kase

McLaughlin, H., Uggen, C., & Blackstone, A. (2017). The economic and career effects of
       sexual harassment on working women. Gender & Society, 31, 333-358.
       doi: 10.1177/0891243217704631

Peterson, C., DeGue, S., Florence, C., & Lokey, C. N. (2017). Lifetime economic burden of rape
among US adults. American Journal of Preventive Medicine, 52, 691-701.
        doi: 10.1016/j.amepre.2016.11.014