Jian Ghomeshi, a popular Canadian radio host on the
CBC,
was fired following allegations of sexual violence from
three different women and one instance of sexual harassment of a coworker (he
allegedly told her that he wants to “hate fuck” her).
Ghomeshi, in turn, posted a
lengthy Facebook post denying
the accusations as “false allegations pursued by a jilted ex-girlfriend and a
freelance writer” and suggests that the CBC fired him simply because they were
uncomfortable with him enjoying BDSM in his private life. He’s suing the CBC
for $55 million.
Not knowing anything about Ghomeshi or his work, I don’t
really have much to say about whether he’s right or wrong (although—speaking purely from a PR perspective—he seriously did himself no favors with that lame, self-martyring
Facebook post, which almost sounds like he’s humblebragging about how
crazy his sex life is). But I did want to point out
this line in the Toronto Star’s story, published on Oct. 26, emphasis mine:
The Star’s interviews of the women were lengthy. The women, all educated and employed, said
Ghomeshi’s actions shocked them.
Many people have pointed out how unsettling it is that the Toronto Star decided that the education
and employment status of the women is germane to the discussion of possible
sexual violence committed against them.
It’s easy to understand why the reporters decided to include
it (and why their editor decided to keep it in): it was a way to preemptively
answer questions about the women’s credibility. By mentioning that they’re
educated and employed, it signals that these women have less reason to lie—they
have careers that they presumably wouldn’t jeopardize with dishonesty. And because
they have educations, their careers are likely ones that pay reasonably well, so
these women probably aren’t necessarily planning to profit off their
allegations. “All educated and employed” was the Star’s way of saying, in essence, “It’s not what you’re thinking—take
them seriously!”
If that is indeed the reasoning, it’s still incredibly depressing
that the Star reporters figured
enough of their readers would instinctively cast mental aspersions on the women
that they felt compelled to head that off. It’s even more depressing to think
that the reporters were right; I don’t doubt that there were some readers who were skeptical, came to that line, and
subsequently gave the women’s stories a little more credence. And needless to
say, the unspoken corollary—if these women weren’t educated or weren’t employed,
then maybe it’d be okay to shrug them off—is pretty repugnant.
I don’t mean to bag on the Star reporters too much here; this sort of thing happens, in one
form or another, all the time. A girl or a woman is the victim of sexual harassment,
assault, or violence, and as a way of bolstering her credibility, we’re told
why we should afford her, unlike some other victims, the benefit of the doubt:
- She’s educated and employed.
- She comes from a good family.
- She doesn’t sleep around.
- She didn’t wear slutty clothes.
- She wasn’t drunk or high.
- She never made these sorts of accusations before.
- She doesn’t have any sort of troubled past or mental health
issues.
If we keep codifying which women deserve the benefit of the
doubt, what we’re really doing is helping potential rapists put together a
profile of an ideal victim—that is, a victim who will have the hardest time
getting people to take her seriously, or, more bluntly, a victim whom the
rapist will have the greatest chance of getting away with raping. The notion of
a woman being targeted specifically
because she’s poor, uneducated, and unemployed, or specifically because she likes having sex, wearing sexy clothes, and
drinking, or specifically because she’s
been raped in her past or because she has a history of mental health issues is both
horrifying and horrifying plausible.
