Bulletin from Abroad
Donald Trump’s behaviour has given Americans good reason to discuss men behaving badly.
Rachel Morris in Washington DC
In the past few weeks, I’ve been overtaken by an unexpected, even unthinkable emotion: gratitude towards Donald Trump. I mean that almost sincerely. Let’s be clear. I’m not grateful there’s a mental picture burnt into my brain of Trump’s favoured method of groping women, which is – as revealed by video footage in early October – to “move on them like a bitch” and “grab them by the pussy”. Nor am I grateful for the knowledge that he used to show up in the dressing room of the Miss Teen USA contest to ogle underage beauty queens. But these revelations, with the accounts of the 11 women (so far) who have accused Trump of sexual harassment, have triggered something more than mere disgust – and so for a rare sliver of positivity in this otherwise godawful election, I’m thankful.
Because for the first time that I can think of, the US is having an honest and uncomfortable reckoning with misogyny. Not a sanitised discussion of “women in the workplace” in the mode of Facebook chief operating officer Sheryl Sandberg, which puts most of the burden on women to improve their lot; and not the one-step-forward-two-steps-back tiptoeing around abortion that mostly constitutes reproductive rights policy here. It’s as if decades upon decades of gross predatory behaviour have culminated in the existence of Donald Trump, human boil, and this election is the lance that lets the pus out. (Sorry.)
The Trump tape’s effect on the election has been startling enough. Dozens of Republicans have finally denounced their nominee, creating an unprecedented schism in the party. First Lady Michelle Obama delivered a speech that described the reality of sexism in more personal, physical terms than anything I’ve heard from a national politician: “It’s like that sick, sinking feeling you get when you’re walking down the street minding your own business and some guy yells out vulgar words about your body.”
But even more fascinating is how this episode is reverberating through many corners of American life. Actress Rose McGowan described her rape by a powerful Hollywood studio executive and how “my ex sold our movie to my rapist for distribution”. I’ve seen female journalists on Twitter talking about being harassed on the job by senior male reporters. In private conversations and in public forums, women are talking about how the Trump allegations have brought memories of their own assaults rushing back to the surface.
Not that this discussion has been confined to women. Recently, a friend told me about a conversation that she’d had with her therapist. Couples were suddenly revisiting old adulteries, the therapist said – indiscretions they believed they had moved on from but which no longer seemed okay. For many men, this episode has been revelatory – an education in how, for women, harassment is simply part of the fabric of daily life.
This is hardly the only recent highprofile sexual harassment case – there was the explosion of rape allegations against actor Bill Cosby and the resignation of Fox News chairman Roger Ailes following allegations of sexual harassment. But perhaps the Trump story has resonated more because practically every woman alive has experienced the kind of behaviour he describes: being grabbed or pawed at by some guy without consent.
And so I wouldn’t be surprised if the reverberations continue. We may yet learn more about that Hollywood executive or some of those male journalists. A woman who has gritted her teeth and ignored the creepy guy at work may now decide to file a complaint. If this happens, it’s not really Trump I should be grateful to, of course. It’s the women who came forward to bravely tell their stories.
It’s as if decades of predatory behaviour have culminated in the existence of Donald Trump.