A new survey reveals that half of working women in Canada say they have endured sexual harassment on the job.
Let’s let that sink in for a moment, shall we? One in two women have, as the Canada Labour Code defines it, experienced: “any conduct, comment, gesture, or contact of a sexual nature that is likely to cause offence or humiliation to any employee; or that might, on reasonable grounds, be perceived by that employee as placing a condition of a sexual nature on employment or on any opportunity for training or promotion.”
Does it surprise you that 50 per cent of women have been sexually harassed in their workplaces ? Chances are, if you’re a woman, it doesn’t. In fact, you may think that number is low. I do.
Having worked for more than 30 years in the media, pretty much nothing shocks me anymore. But I must confess I am surprised that employers appear to be taking sexual harassment so seriously now. Granted, it’s the big names that are getting the big headlines. What is happening on shop floors, in restaurants and workplaces where women are economically vulnerable and exploited is probably another matter altogether. I hope this is all not just another “trending” story that will be forgotten in a couple of months. But, even if it does move from the front pages to the back pages, in my opinion, there’s already been a seismic shift.
A decade ago or even three decades ago, it was dramatically different.
It wasn’t until 1983 that sexual harassment was even put in the Canadian Human Rights Code.
In the ’70s and ’80s, the best that women could hope for was that a woman co-worker might forewarn her about a man in the office who “can’t keep his hands to himself.” Or worse, “don’t stay in the office after work if he’s here too.” Or, “never go to his place – no matter what.” The phrase “he has hands like an octopus” was considered normal office banter.
The top boss at one of my jobs in the early ’80s was a serial sexual harasser. He preyed on vulnerable women who needed their jobs.
One night when I was working late on the paper, I came across one of the women he had been harassing. She was crying by herself in the back of the building. She told me her story. I told my immediate boss the next morning, and I said we had to do something about this. He was not enthusiastic, but he did agree to go with me to confront the boss. For that I was grateful.
My intention was pretty simple: Make the harasser aware that his actions were unacceptable and that he had to stop.
Naively I thought if he knew someone else knew, he would just stop.
So in the two of us went to his office.
The harasser’s partner, who also worked at the company, walked in as I was telling him that what he did was wrong. I stopped cold when she came in. She was pregnant, and I didn’t want to upset her. She said, however, to just continue my conversation. I hesitated, but the harasser also said to continue. I did. She shrugged when she heard what I said. She then laughed, and said “(his name) are you doing that again?”
This reaction might shock people today. It shocked me then, but taken in the context of that time, it probably wasn’t as dramatic as it would be today. I have no idea what their relationship was based on. I still don’t. What I did know was that I couldn’t work for people like this, and I left that job soon after.
Years later I was at a journalists’ training event and a group of us were in the pub sharing work stories. The harasser’s name came up, and I relayed my experience with him.
I then received a phone call from the harasser while I was at work at my new workplace. One of the journalists had told him what I had said about him.
The harasser, to his credit, in a very small, very weird way, didn’t deny the facts. He was, however, protesting my use of the word “predator” in describing him. After some debate about the word choice, he agreed that “harasser” was more suitable a descriptor. Predator, he said, made him sound like a pedophile.
Think about that for a minute. A man in a position of power has the gall to actually argue about a word that describes his abhorrent behaviour.
Did he continue to sexually exploit women workers after I left his workplace? Probably. Do I ever wonder what more I could have done? Yes. Would he dare harass women now? Would he call me up now and complain about saying he was a predator? I don’t know.
What I do know is that as soon as the #MeToo movement caught fire, one of my first thoughts was for those women in that workplace who had been targeted. My second thought was recalling all the other incidents at workplaces in the years following that one. My third thought was that I hoped the women who had suffered at his hands might just turn up on his doorstep with a #MeToo picket sign.
I still hope they do.
Pat Tracy is the editor of the Burnaby NOW and New Westminster Record.
