ON October 5, 2017, the Harvey Weinstein scandal broke. The American film producer and former studio executive has since seen more than 50 women, many of them famous actresses, including Gwyneth Paltrow, Lupita Nyong’o, Rose McGowan and Angelina Jolie accusing him of at minimum, unwanted sexual advances and, at worst, rape. Weinstein’s modus operandi it seems often included a bathrobe, private screenings, desperate requests for massages and thinly veiled career promises and threats.

Each accusation reads like the diary of a serial predator, who had become emboldened by the silence of his victims and on the few accusations in which they felt empowered enough to at least speak out, they found that there were very few that were willing to listen and worse, act on it. It was Hollywood’s well known secret for more than 20 years. Hollywood is worlds away from our reality here in Guyana. We can discuss Weinstein almost dispassionately if we just don’t dig to deeply into the internal discomfort we feel when we read the alleged victims’ stories and we recognise the initial naivety, the vaguely uncomfortable feeling, the shock, the rising horror, the internal negotiation and desperate acts of self-preservation and then the shame.

Weinstein argues that he has not had non-consensual sex or sexual contact with any woman and I have no doubt that a man in his position and with his power has had a supply of willing debutantes. Many would be unwilling to admit it, but there are women who are willing to exchange favours for access, opportunity and promotion; transactional sex, if you will. But this is not about them. This is about the many women, who laugh awkwardly in uncomfortable situations, because they don’t want to be that one woman who spoils everyone’s fun, while she cringes internally and hopes that the aggressor does not cross that single imperceptible line she has mentally made, the moment she realises that the interaction has strayed into inappropriate territory.

Take Nyong’o’s experience for example. According to her essay in The New York Times, headlined, “Lupita Nyong’o: Speaking Out About Harvey Weinstein” on October 19. She described the exercise of power when he demanded that she have an alcoholic beverage because he was paying. That, by itself, can seem harmless, because what harm can one vodka soda in a public place cause? The issue at hand though is that Weinstein established himself as the figure with the money, the power and the right to tell his subordinate in the industry what she could have on his dime.

Later when Nyong’o describes visiting his home for the screening of a competing film, for which she was invited, and he interrupted her just 15 minutes into viewing the film with the need to ‘show [her] something’ and escorted her away from his young children to his bedroom, then proceeds to offer her a massage, I am immediately triggered. Many might ask, why didn’t she leave his house in that moment? The answer is simple. He was a powerful industry figure; successful and powerful. He could make or break her career as a young actress, still in school.

In that moment a woman considers how she can remove herself from a situation, without damaging her career and hopes within her heart that she is wrong and that this man will not cross her imperceptible line. She does not want to be assaulted, she is hoping against hope that her polite but obvious reluctance will be enough so that she does not have to make a scene and create a powerful enemy. Nyong’o reasons herself into giving him the massage, rather than letting him touch her and only left after he decided to get up to remove his pants, even after she had told him not to do that. Her line had been crossed and she fled.

While I have no story that exactly reflects what happened to her, I can relate to every single emotion. I understand the thought process and I know the shame that must have followed that interaction. I understand the self-blame. Why did I go to his home? Why didn’t I leave as soon as I felt uncomfortable? Why didn’t I slap him when he touched me inappropriately? When I was in my early 20s and just embarking on my career, I met a powerful man at a Christmas party. All of my other female colleagues were meeting powerful men of their own and frankly we were all giddy with the excitement of the moment. For me, I was being introduced to a world I scarcely knew existed and in that room I was ‘fresh meat.’ One of my work colleagues remarked ‘girl Lloyda, you getting the rush tonight.’

I had my eye on an international guest, who had his eye on me, but I was in a committed relationship so I did little more than smile and simper like a schoolgirl in his presence. He, too, was not pushy or aggressive, but it was a powerful local figure who turned his attention toward me and changed my experience that night. I knew immediately that I was not attracted to him, but I knew who he was so I smiled and laughed awkwardly at his sweaty compliments about how sexy he found me. As the night went on and his interest did not wane, I avoided his groping hands as best I could, still laughing off every inappropriate touch. I knew that I would do well not to anger this man, so when he asked for my number, I gave it to him. So began months of being aggressively pursued. After my experience that night at the party, I knew for sure that I would not go out with him. He had not left his intentions in the dark and I had left the party that night feeling mildly dirty and ashamed of myself for encouraging him.

His pursuit of me ended only when one night I turned down his umpteenth invitation to go out, indicating that I was leaving work early because I was unwell. Later that evening, feeling much better after some sleep, I ended up at a quiet night spot with a friend, only to look up and see the malevolent glare of this very powerful man. I will never know if my then boss’s anger at me the next morning for leaving work early the day before, then still being ‘seen out’ was related in any form to vindictiveness from this man, but I do not doubt it. He was my boss’s superior and he was livid. I was grateful, though, that despite a reprimand in the office, I had escaped the situation mostly unscathed and my powerful man stopped calling me altogether.

Later, as my career grew, I committed to being extremely business-like with my superiors. I have fielded advances since then, but never in a way that has caused me to feel afraid or threatened. But do we excuse away advances in the workplace as par for the course? In almost every place I have worked, there has always been that woman, who everyone says ‘slept’ with ‘so and so’ in order to get the job that she has. There is a special level of disdain and spite, which people hold in their chests for any woman they believe has ‘slept her way to the top’. That disdain is never as vicious for the man or men they believe she might have slept with to achieve upward mobility. I try to be careful these days to avoid perpetuating such rumours. As a young professional, I know what it is like to have the accusation levelled in my direction, despite not so much as an ounce of evidence, much less proof.

No one ever stops to consider how many unwanted advances she has had to turn down or worse, whether she has had to smile through instances of sexual harassment. For professionals, the workplace is where people often meet their spouses or engage in other consensual romantic and sexual liaisons. I think we have to make a distinction here. But how do we define the grey areas where a person may acquiesce to an advance out of fear? The fear of dismissal or being passed over for promotion, is a real thing. Recently, I was told the story of a young store clerk who was granted a period of vacation leave. A temporary staff member was hired in her absence. When she returned to work, the store owner indicated that he no longer needed her services and when she asked why, he told her that the temporary staff ‘goes upstairs’, she doesn’t.

In the Prevention of Discrimination Act, Chapter 99:09 of the Laws of Guyana, sexual harassment is defined as the “unwanted conduct of a sexual nature in the workplace or in connection with the performance or work which is threatened or is imposed as a condition of employment on an employee or which creates a hostile working environment for the employee.” Unfortunately, for the most part the burden of proving a prima facie case of discrimination under this Act falls under the responsibility of the person alleging the violation. This can prove problematic if an unwanted advance is shut down, but not recorded or reported and discriminatory action is taken much later on and appears to be unrelated to the prior act.

In the whole discourse women are cast mainly as victims and men the aggressor. The assumption in our male-dominated hypersexual culture is that a sexual advance from a woman is never something that would be unwanted by a man. Then what about men who are preyed upon by other men? Recently, a male-dominated organisation here in Guyana issued a sexual harassment notice to its staff members, aimed at the men. The intentions were good because, according to Tracy S. Robinson, Jamaican attorney and lecturer in the Faculty of Law at the University of the West Indies (UWI), who has served as the Rapporteur on the Rights of Women since January 2012 for the Organization of American States (OAS), workers in sex-segregated industries tend to experience higher levels of sexual harassment because sexual harassment is a form of gender hostility that is often used to keep women in their places or out of certain workplaces. However, to direct sexual harassment policies at only one gender ignores a holistic approach to dealing with the issue.

Robinson also argues in a paper titled “Sexual Harassment in the Workplace: Let the Conversation Begin” that specific legislation, which clearly identifies what sexual harassment is, will provide clear guidance on what is acceptable and what is not for both male and female employees. I tend to agree with her here, especially since there are those that argue that western-styled similar legislation does not take into consideration the relaxed culture in the Region. I would argue that this is precisely why specific legislation is needed. Too much of the problematic behaviour is often excused away as part of culture. However, by clearly defining what falls within the bounds of sexual harassment and what does not, employees who are involved in consensual situations will be forced to clearly define their relationship so that no one is in a situation in which they are being taken advantage of.

Robinson also believes that specific legislation will also provide mechanisms for prevention, early response and fair treatment for both the accuser and the accused. Beyond the legal framework though, employers will need to focus their attention on knowledge and behaviour-change programmes, which prioritises the safety and comfort of all employees. We have to begin talking about these issues without fear or favour before we can clearly define the extent of the problem and possible solutions. We all need to assess our own conduct and that of our own colleagues to ensure that we arrive at consensual positions that safeguard all employees, but allows them to operate in an environment of camaraderie and goodwill.