Hilary Hogan | Contributing Writer
‘Take it as a compliment,’ one boy told me after his friend groped me in a nightclub. It had begun innocently enough and was preceded by a ten-minute conversation about how he knew my boyfriend. Then he casually patted my backside, and kindly told me to enjoy my night. Neither of them could understand my furious reaction to what had happened. In their book, my new acquaintance had done nothing more invasive than shake my hand.
That is the generic response when I react angrily to being touched intimately by strangers. I resent being told to ‘chill out’ by anyone on this side of the Atlantic. But I hate being told to relax about something that I’m convinced we should definitely not be chilling out about at all.
It views the person at the receiving end as someone they are entitled to.
Being smacked, stroked or otherwise touched by men seems to be such an inevitable part of being a woman on a night out that it’s scarcely commented on. It’s not news. It’s not even anecdote worthy. Yet every girl I know has been the victim of unwanted sexualised touching at least once. (I also know men who’ve experienced it – but also at the hands of men. Maybe it’s not a uniquely female problem, but overwhelmingly it appears to happen to women, by men).
It’s a not-so-subtle indicator of a perspective that sees consent as immaterial. It views the person at the receiving end as someone they are entitled to. In addition, touching itself is invasive and dominating – one individual forcing a part of their body on another is objectively highly demeaning.
It could be argued that drawing attention to what many perceive as innocent behaviour belittles the experiences of those who have been the victim of the most serious kinds of sexual violence. But the attitudes which makes this behaviour socially acceptable – objectification, entitlement – are those which allow for sexual assault and rape. Tackling one seemingly small issue and examining the reasons behind it allows us to discuss the culture we live in, and whether these smaller acts allow for more serious incidents to occur.
I’ve felt an urge to strike back, a temptation I’ve succumbed to too often. It’s an instinctive response to reassert my autonomy, to rebalance the power between myself and another. However, taking down the patriarchy one slap at a time is problematic.
When a man smacks a girl’s rear, or puts his hand up her skirt, it’s not a compliment. It’s not flattering.
But how are we supposed to react? A ten-minute calm discussion on the merits of personal space is hard to envisage with the actors in these situations, even though I’ve tried this approach before. (‘A feminist, are you love?’ replied one man.) The thought of passively reacting – of walking away from the problem – infuriates me. To me, it implicitly conveys if not agreement, then at least acceptance of what has occurred.
Maybe then we should at least convey that when a man smacks a girl’s rear, or puts his hand up her skirt, it’s not a compliment. It’s not flattering, and it’s not enjoyable. It’s humiliating being treated as an object, and there is no faster way to objectify someone than by behaving as though their opinion or consent is irrelevant. Standing up to seemingly trivial incidents is one way of addressing underlying issues which have incredibly harmful effects.
