By Beth Keil
A recent talk show episode was devoted to the unfolding sex scandal at Penn State University. One conversation centered around the man who witnessed a young boy being raped in the shower by a former football coach and how he didn’t stop the rape nor did he report it to the police (he did tell his dad and then the head coach the next day). A member of the audience got up and asked, “How do any of us know what we would have done (if we were the witness)? This question resonated with me as it was a question I had asked myself.
What is alleged to have happened, the rape of this young boy, is reprehensible and should have been stopped. There’s no question about that but I found myself wondering why were people silent or didn’t intervene at the time? Were some people more worried about the financial impact on the University? I have no doubt. But I’m wondering more about the people who witnessed the rape/molestation —-a former janitor reported an earlier event years earlier involving the same former coach); what would keep them silent or from intervening? What keeps any of us silent? The only answer I can find is FEAR.
This leads me to wonder about the culture the witnesses found themselves in. We can judge what people should or shouldn’t do but to do so without understanding the culture in which this happened in makes the environment very difficult to transform. Superficial interventions are made more easily than addressing the culture which creates silence or inaction. So back to the one witness…I wonder what he may have been afraid might happen if he stopped the coach right then and there? Did he think he’d be fired, or not believed? Was there a situation from his past where he felt helpless resonating for him such that he couldn’t do more than what he did? Understanding why all this happened holds more promise of change than pointing fingers and going after people but the latter makes better headlines.
Eighteen years ago when I was 8 months pregnant I was at the local mall at the pet store with my 3 year old son. I witnessed a man touching a young teenage girl’s buttock as she entered the store. Without a moment’s thought I grabbed his arm and called out in a loud voice, “May I have the manager please!?” People walked by as I repeated my demand. The man whose wrist I held didn’t resist, he never said a word and didn’t deny he touched her. He looked like he hoped the floor would open up and take him. I felt myself trembling and I held my grip until the manager came and asked me what happened. The long and short of it is the young teen didn’t recall being touched (I saw her turn her head around when his hand touched her buttock). The manager assured me he would notify the other stores at the mall that attracted children and young teens and provide them with a description of the man, something the stores do already.
Later, when I shared what happened with a few of my women friends some were surprised that I did what I did, taking the action I took. I surprised myself at how quickly I grabbed the man’s arm without thinking. I was in an environment I felt safe in, there were others about, and I think the pregnancy and mommy hormones made me into a Mama Bear where I could not stand by. Later I was aware previous feelings of helplessness living as a woman in this culture, of having been touched by a stranger in public, surfaced and propelled my hand to grab his unlike the man in the subway.
But back to the member of the audience’s question–can any of us know what we’d do? Perhaps the best we can say is how we hope we’ll respond.
