Dear Freda: c/o The Shrinking Violets Club
‘The tuffet’s gone bust, and the spider’s lust / has landed him with the law / Miss Muffet’s all a’ flutter / the curds have turned to butter / and things will never be the same again…”
Corny, isn’t it, Freda? But then again, how could it compare to the case brought by yourself against former Western Cape premier and erstwhile Burt Reynolds impersonator Peter Marais?
Even a stick of R2 “Rose Garden of India” incense from a Soweto spaza couldn’t beat the stench of fakeness (“I love my beautiful wife, I wouldn’t look at her”) at this trial. At its heart, a charge of sexual harassment. Only politicians could pull off such brilliant insincerity.
Which you, Ms Adams also certainly are, despite the Blanche du Bois con act. What constitutes sexual harassment, and whether Marais was guilty of it, almost appears the sideshow. But what really gets me thinking is whether or not it’s true that politics is no place for “a lady” — like you, the oh-so-fragile Ms Adams, who needs just more than R1-million to compensate for the trauma of being asked by Marais if he could, among other things, “lick you from head to toe”. Or when he suggested that you “bare all”, or when he asked if you were keen for a threesome with another politician friend.
Testy stuff indeed, Freda — could give any woman (besides Marais’s good wife, Bonita) nightmares. Personally, I’d tell him exactly what he should rather do with his tongue. But hey, that’s just me.
One appreciates your standing up to the New National Party and all that, but you do become a bit undone at the seams when you start talking of sista’ solidarity, about how you’re standing up for not only yourself, but for all women vulnerable to this “scourge”.
Scourge of what, dearest? An attack of the Victorian vapours every time a man makes a lewd suggestion?
And just so you know, Freda, we women don’t have to ponder for much longer on where being lewd and worthy of contempt and ridicule ends and sexual harassment starts. Not, as we once believed, when that man is a superior in the workplace and has the power to fire you or make your life hell. But virtually anytime, and hell, he could be anybody. Just as long as he’s a man.
The United Association of South Africa’s legal services (UASA) has saved us the trouble of thinking too much about that “you look pretty today” remark in the passage yesterday, and has drawn up guidelines.
You should have a look at them sometime. Are you sure you didn’t guest edit them?
“Harassment can be physical, verbal, non-verbal, electronic or written,” warns the UASA. Such behaviour includes “suggestive remarks, physical contact, filthy jokes, sexual chatter, e-mail or SMS”.
Just so we can be sure this isn’t some obscure grouping, these definitions are similar to what is (ahem) laid down in the Labour Relations Act 66 of 1995. Added to this, the National Economic Development and Labour Council has a code of good practice on the handling of sexual harassment.
There, too, sexual harassment is unwanted conduct of a sexual nature. Of any “sexual” nature.
As a teenager, Freda, I’d heard about men who open their coats and drop their fleshy bits at women sunbathing in parks — and steeled myself that should it ever happen to me, I wouldn’t run away, but rather burst out laughing. It always appears a bit ludicrous that women should run off screaming, and need years in therapy, just because they were exposed to not a R5 rifle, but a sexual organ.
I know of women, though, who’ve extended this principled position to suggestive remarks in the office corridor. A sarcastic retort is their way to put an end to unwanted sexual advances, inside or outside the office. But hey, that’s just my stupid friends.
Not so for you, Freda. You’re making a point that the likes of Marais could not get away with sacrificing “your womanhood” on the altar of political expediency. With all the talk about the shock to your genteel sensibilities, and womanhood, one wonders why you, Freda Adams, aren’t better off teaching croquet at Fancourt.
An aside: none of this is to say sexual harassment isn’t a reality for many women. Or that it isn’t wrong.
But if the likes of the UASA are to be relied on to define what the legal boundaries are, both men and women had better watch out. Asking a colleague out for a drink could cost your job. And if that isn’t bad enough, the UASA guidelines talk of things like “emotional harassment”. This, to the uninitiated, is “rage”, which is a factor with which many women are confronted daily.
Presumably, this is when your boss screams at you. “In the event of a rage outburst, it is advisable to distance yourself. Leave the office and resume the conversation when the person has calmed down. Then say you find such behaviour unacceptable.”
This advisory stems from the fact that women, we are told, suffer in silence because they don’t know how to handle the situation.
Methinks, Freda dear, that all this shrinking violet nonsense, that women’s gentle, sweet ears cannot hear filthy jokes, cannot tell a man off for making a lewd comment, and will be reduced to quivering wrecks each time a man shouts in the office, bodes ill for the state of women in the workplace, let alone politics. Things could be going fine, your career could be skyrocketing, but all your walls could come crashing down if a poor, sorry man, who doesn’t know how to strike up a real conversation with a woman, tells you one day he’d like to see you naked. You’ll go nuts with shock and horror.
It’s a typical case of not seeing the bigger picture, that what he needs are not your tears, but your scorn. Think about how history would have gone awry if Miss Muffet had a pair of scissors under the tuffet…
Yours sincerely,
Khadija