by Lee Seham
February 1, 2008
A few months ago, I filed my first written sexual harassment complaint. Ironic – maybe – for a man who conducts sexual harassment prevention seminars for large and mid-size corporations.
It all took place at an upscale gym in White Plains. The gaze of another man lingered substantially longer than the quick peek the rest of us indulge in out of curiosity or certain kinds of envy. These gazes were occurring with some frequency, and they occurred in several different venues: the locker room, the swimming pool area, the sauna. If that were all, I would have let it go. This happens every so often, at least to me. I’m not sure why – I wear my wedding ring and consider myself a flaming heterosexual. I guess I must be cuter than I thought.
But, one day, he sidled a little too close as I finished up at the urinal. Making a show of peering over my shoulder – easy to do since he’s six inches taller – he said with a sly smile, “Remember, more than two shakes is masturbation.” I kept silent and left the area as soon as I could.
Forty-five minutes later, as I showered, the shower door began to open. His head angled toward the opening and, having caught a full view, he apologized and closed the door again. Could have been a mistake. But it wasn’t a mistake I had ever made, nor in my experience, had anyone else at the club.
I’m a multi-tasker. That means I can’t just sit and schvitz in the sauna. I have to exercise and stretch. The next day, he settled himself a few feet away in the small wooden room and began to closely observe my sit-ups and comment on my form. I maintained a stony silence. I knew that, to any neutral observer, I was being rude. The message, I thought, was clear as day, and I hoped he was getting it.
Still, the next day he sat on the locker room bench next to me, leaned in, and said “good morning.” I ignored him. He leaned in close and repeated with impatient emphasis, “I said good morning!” I turned to him, with barely controlled rage, and said, “Haven’t you got the message yet that I don’t want to talk to you. I – don’t – want – to – talk – to – you.” He took a half-step back and gave every appearance of being startled.
Nevertheless, a few days later he again made the same demand that I return his “good morning.” This time his tone was angry. So was my response: “I told you before – I don’t want to talk to you. Stop talking to me!”
The next day I asked to speak to a manager. She turned out to be an attractive, young Hispanic woman who, for a gal in her early twenties, had a very professional bearing. I explained the situation and provided her with a written statement. She reacted with the genuine concern and sympathy. Before she could ask, I told her that I was not asking the club to take any action. To the contrary, I was reluctant to be responsible for a man losing his membership. But, I wanted to create a written record of what had happened. I wanted to make sure that if it ever happened again – either to me or anyone else – there would be a foundation that would ensure that the complainant would be taken seriously. She accepted my written complaint and apologized for the club. I told her that there was no need and later wrote a letter to the owner complimenting the manager for her courtesy and discretion.
Months have passed. There have been a few more leers, from him and others. But nothing I can’t live with. I’ve adjusted my routine a little. I try to avoid him. I now often wear a bathing suit in the sauna – which has a sign of substantial size at the door warning against “inappropriate” behavior. Our sauna has a history.
My sexual harassment seminars are frequently conducted in traditionally male-dominated industries. I have sometimes met angry resistance from men who feel they have lost something with the introduction of women into the workplace. And, to be fair, they have. Some of these workplaces – in terms of language and conversation – were the equivalent of locker rooms. And – my recent experience aside – a locker room can be a lot of fun: the jokes, the confidences, the friendly boisterousness. Part of what I tell such men is that they should think of their sisters, wives, and mothers – and that these women, and all women, have a right to earn a living in an environment which is non-hostile.
My most recent seminar was for the human resources department of a large corporation listed on the NYSE. The dozen or more trainees were primarily female. And, for the first time, I made my recent experience part of the discussion.
It’s hard to describe the sympathy of the women managers. They hung on every word. They impatiently asked – “and then what happened” and “what did you do?” They were horrified and very concerned for me.
I then told them that this was the first time I had shared this story. That I thought maybe it would help future trainees understand that desperate sense of being trapped in a hostile environment and yet not knowing if fighting back would just make things worse. There was a lot of vigorous nodding.
Then two of them simultaneously asked the obvious question: did your complaint help your situation? Yes, I said. It helped. It helped to take a firm, but measured response. It helped me emotionally to push back against a gross invasion of my privacy and to set the stage for the next push if one proves necessary.
And, just as importantly, it may help someone else who, in the future, finds himself in a similar situation.
Lee Seham is a labor, employment and immigration attorney who has lived in Chappaqua for over eleven years.
Copyright 2008 NewCastleNOW.org