Lost in Translation

Filed Under Uncategorized | By Wende Hilsenrod | Leave a Comment

Credit: Free images from acobox.com
Last weekend I watched two foreign films, one from Peru and one from Brazil. I was baffled by the Peruvian film because I could not understand the “Spanish” they were speaking – I was tired, the actors were speaking quickly, and since they were also playing characters who were drunk, they were slurring and “eating their words”. The Brazilian film also baffled me. I was losing threads of the conversation (even when I read the subtitles in English) until I realized they were ‘mixing’ Yiddish and Portuguese and only Portuguese was translated! I lost interest in both films: it was a lot of work to keep up with the code switching. It also required that I stop paying attention in order to translate for the monolingual English speakers in the room. I found myself making up what I thought I heard the characters say. Everyone was left with a poor opinion of both movies.
I woke up this morning with a horrible and chilling thought: How many times, because I was tired, in a hurry, thought I understood the slang, did I mistranslate? Not just in Spanish or Portuguese, but in English as well. I will never forget the horror I felt when, years ago, my niece said the visit to Grandma’s was “the bomb”. I assumed she witnessed an explosion!
Which brings me to another point; I have my own lexicon, as does everyone else. When stressed, tired, anxious or just plain in a bad mood, I sling words around and expect to be understood! People in crisis expect and deserve to be understood by those who are there to advocate for them. Figuring out ways to check for understanding without screwing my face up and going “HUNNM?” “Excuse me is not only kinder, it opens up the flow of communication giving the providers more accurate information
Which brings me back to waking up in a cold sweat – how many times have we, as advocates, missed the sublties of language usage by our clients? What opportunities were lost? More importantly, how many clients walked away discourage and never came back?

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There’s been plenty of noise about last month’s decision by the Supreme Court not to hear the appeal of a Silsbee, Texas high school cheerleader who was kicked off her squad for refusing to cheer for her rapist. Probably because it was a First Amendment case, almost none of the noise has been about the important federal laws that can protect student survivors. Sexual violence in schools and on campus is usually strange and mysterious territory for survivors, advocates, and lawyers alike. That’s why it’s so important to take this opportunity to talk about Title IX.

For most people, Title IX calls to mind gender equality in sports, like a school having an equal number of sports teams for boys and girls. But Title IX can mean much more than that, especially when it comes to sexual violence. I want to offer some thoughts on what Title IX—and other civil legal remedies—can and should mean for those of us serving crime victims in Texas. First, though, here is a brief explanation of what Title IX is.

Title IX Explained

Similar to other civil rights laws that prohibit sex discrimination in the workplace and in housing, Title IX prohibits sex discrimination in the educational setting. Among other things, that means a school can be held legally responsible when it knows about and ignores sexual harassment or sexual assault in programs that it has control over.

According to the Supreme Court in the 1999 landmark case Davis v. Monroe County Board of Education, the bottom line with Title IX is that any form of sexual harassment or violence can constitute sex discrimination if it is “so severe, pervasive, and objectively offensive that it effectively bars the victim’s access to an educational opportunity or benefit.” Thus, if a school is “deliberately indifferent” to known sexual harassment, the school can be considered to have discriminated against the victim on the basis of sex.

Such a broad definition means that schools can even be liable if an assault was student-on-student, not just when school employees perpetrate the violence. For example, some colleges have paid damages for failing to prevent athletic recruits from sexually assaulting other students, where the schools were aware of prior complaints about the recruits’ sexually harassing behavior. Moreover, according to a letter issued in April 2011 by the U.S. Department of Education Office for Civil Rights (available at http://www2.ed.gov/about/offices/list/ocr/letters/colleague-201104.pdf), even a “single or isolated incident” can constitute unlawful discrimination under Title IX.

What does this mean for us?

Setting aside the legal nuances, what does all this mean for those of us who aren’t litigating Title IX cases—the advocates, educators, and law enforcement personnel among us? I think it means a couple things. First, we need to make sure we’re well-informed about the legal remedies available to the people we serve, beyond the standard criminal justice responses. And second, we must put that information to use both when we consult with survivors and in our relationships with community partners, like schools.

If we, as victim service providers, are not familiar with the civil laws that can benefit our clients, then how will our clients find out about them? Certainly, most of us can’t advise survivors on the legal merits of a Title IX lawsuit. But many of us are uniquely positioned to learn the details of a survivor’s situation and assess whether talking to a lawyer might be worthwhile.

And that means equipping ourselves with knowledge ahead of time. That applies to Title IX, but also to the many laws protecting survivors’ rights in employment, housing, immigration proceedings, and more.

Many of us work hard to build partnerships with agencies and institutions in our communities. Education about laws like Title IX is a crucial part of that: according to law professor Wendy Murphy, in the early stages of a Title IX suit against Harvard University, even Harvard’s legal team advised the university president that Title IX has nothing whatsoever to do with sexual assault.

Partnering with local sexual violence programs and rape crisis centers to develop response policies and prevention curricula is a good way for schools to comply with federal law. Unfortunately, many schools shy away from robust sexual violence policies, failing to appreciate their potential liability under Title IX.

A Teachable Moment in Silsbee

It’s very possible that Title IX could provide a remedy for the student from Silsbee. Others, including Professor Murphy, have offered analysis elsewhere, and I won’t rehash the subject here. However, I do want to this blog post to emphasize the significance of the Title IX remedy in the context of our work as advocates.

To be sure, the school’s response to the sexual assault and to the perpetrator’s conviction was unacceptable. But perhaps just as disturbing has been the school’s course of action following the lawsuit: eliminating its sexual assault education program and silencing conversations about sexual violence in school. Beyond the insensitivity to the survivor, the school seems ambivalent—if not indifferent—to the fact that such a permissive attitude toward sexual violence will do nothing to protect its students from more assaults in the future. That sort of patterned decisionmaking—especially if maintained—seems to teeter dangerously close to exactly what federal law prohibits.

The Silsbee case, tragic as it is, presents an opportunity for the victim services field to reach out to our partners in education and advocate for tough and appropriate policies to respond to sexual assault. Indeed, that’s not just the right thing to do. It’s what federal civil rights law requires.

Chris Kaiser is TAASA’s staff attorney. He provides training for advocates and assistance to survivors on a range of civil legal remedies. Check TAASA’s event calendar at taasa.org to find upcoming free online trainings, or contact Chris at ckaiser@taasa.org.

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A Casey Anthony Effect?

Filed Under Uncategorized | By Rose Luna | Leave a Comment

The opening statements of the Casey Anthony trial ignited a spark of allegations and controversy. The allegation of concern being the alleged child sexual abuse of Casey Anthony by her father. The controversy of concern being the disclosure of that abuse as a defense strategy. Child sexual abuse advocates have fought tirelessly to create awareness and understanding on both the long term and hidden effects of child sexual abuse. Anthony’s attorney Jose Baez will most definitely shed light on the issue, however this choice is met with both anger and hesitation. Will Casey’s defense generate a positive awareness of the consequences of child sexual abuse or will it relegate the effects of child sexual assault as an excuse for antisocial behavior?

One morning as I dressed for work with the television blaring, I overheard the stunning accusation of child sexual assault against the father – it caught my attention. As the father was questioned on the stand, he vehemently denied the accusations (as perpetrators often do). The next bombshell was the accidental drowning of the victim and alleged cover up by both the father and defendant (yet another secret). For a moment my advocate wheels turned. I had not followed the case, but for a second I paused. If, in fact, the accusations are true, then her odd behavior and lies – although counter-intuitive to most – are a stretch but still somewhat consistent with the behavior associated with such abuse (e.g., secrecy, lies, disassociation). I quickly came to my senses and realized my quantum leap assumptions were baseless.

With the millions of people following the trial, Anthony’s defense hurls up front and center the effects of child sexual assault. The questions that weigh heavily on my mind are: Will this publicity raise society’s consciousness on the devastating effects of child sexual assault to a victim and the community? Or will it generate a culture of indifference to the issue? Please share your thoughts and expertise.

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Most girls are immediately trusting of others—especially those in authority. Usually, this is the right choice. Usually, people are not bad, are not violent and are not rapists. Unfortunately, the definition of usually is “not always”.
For one teenage girl in Italy, her trust in others was ruined by her 45-year-old driving instructor. During her very first driving lesson he asked the young woman to drive further and further from her town into the country. I imagine she might have begun to feel nervous, but she trusted this man, he was her driving instructor, an authority figure, and her parent s trusted him. Why would she question him?
Once out of town he asked her to pull over into a wooded area. He threatened to kill her and her family as he forced one of her legs out of her jeans and brutally raped her.
She was a smart young woman, and she trusted her parents and the police to do the right thing—and they did. They supported her, arrested the man; he was convicted of rape and sentenced to prison.
Eventually, through the appeals process, his lawyers came up with the often used defense that it was consensual sex. She was dressed provocatively, she was driving the car herself…and because her jeans were tight she had to help him remove them.
The case made its way through the system to the Italian Supreme Court where it was finally overturned. The chief justice said, “Since the victim wore very, very tight jeans; she had to help him remove them, and by removing the jeans, it was no longer rape but consensual sex.”
Within hours of the verdict, women of the Italian Parliament rushed home to change into jeans in protest, standing in support of this girl, and all girls and women who are blamed every day for something someone else did to them.

In 1999, Peace Over Violence, an anti-violence organization in Las Angeles, began the Denim Day campaign to show a unified front in support of survivors. Anti-violence and sexual assault centers across the United States and the World have followed suit. In 2008, SafePlace brought the campaign to Austin. Other organizations, including TAASA have joined in the movement.
Now, when someone hears the story behind Denim Day, they are outraged. They tell friends and co-workers and want to sign up immediately to support survivors and to show their outrage that anyone –women, girls, boys and men– are ever to blame for an assault against them.
The blame hasn’t ended. The brutal gang rape of the 11-year-old girl in Cleveland, Texas brings this point home. She was a little girl, and she didn’t know not to trust.

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Please take a moment to listen to this commentary from sports analyst and commentator, Frank Deford. About one minute and 35 seconds in, he ponders if the American male being ”rendered extraneous” is the cause of golf’s downward spiral. He asks, “How can sensitive modern dads disappear for hours on the links when they have to change diapers, carpool to ballet class and spend their down time getting in touch with their feminine side?”  My first thought? Wow, I didn’t realize I’m being rendered obsolete. Whatever will I do?

And then I recalled recent advertisements that have been trying to warn me of my impending doom. There is the car ad title “Man’s Last Stand” and the Dockers ads imploring men to “wear the pants.” How could I not have seen? All of this feminism running rampant and this reverse sexism are robbing me of my very masculinity – Americans’ lack of dominance in golf is just the tip of the iceberg.

How dare I be expected to be an equal partner in parenting? I only have daughters, so I shouldn’t have to parent at all really – they just need their mother. And how can I be expected to take them to ballet class (or soccer, or football or any other sport they might play in this crazy genderless society)?  I’m just a dad. And what is all this about getting in touch with my feminine side – does that mean I have to say “I love you” to my family and friends and acknowledge that I have emotions other than anger and actually, like, talk to people in a meaningful way? Icky.

Oh wait, that’s right, I forgot, I think that this concept of the impending death of the American male is, well, how to put it nicely, seriously flawed. We still live in a seriously patriarchal society, last time I checked. Women still make less money than men for the same job, men still have a stranglehold on the positions of power in our society (ranging from business to politics to the military) and sexual violence is still being perpetrated primarily by men at extraordinarily high rates against primarily women and children, and that is the tip of the patriarchal iceberg. Poor men, poor us. If the current efforts to create equity across the spectrum of gender (and race, class, age, ability status, etc.) are successful, what will we do if we can’t continue to enjoy the perks of our privilege?

My coworker, Morgan, put it best when we were talking about this issue a few weeks ago. She noted that people in positions of power begin to get uneasy and complain about being left out or marginalized as soon as there is a credible threat to the belief patterns and institutional structures that bestow their privilege upon them. The only way the American man will become obsolete as a result of a steady, but slow march towards equity is if he refuses to change and continues to fight to maintain his privilege. The way it is now, society is not working for women and children, nor is it really working for men.

What are your thoughts on the commentary, the ads and/or the idea that the American man is “being rendered obsolete?”

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Dude Looks Like a Latte

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Filed Under Uncategorized | By Morgan J Curtis | 2 Comments

Ok, this is either going to get strange looks, awkward giggles or get my feminist card revoked, but I have to share a funny story about gender socialization. (Yes, I mean exactly what I said.)

I’m known as a lover of fine coffee and funky coffee shops. In fact, I spend entirely too much time drinking coffee, talking about coffee and just generally being around coffee. I was working from a coffee shop the other day when the barista yelled out “latte on the bar!” A big dude strolled around the corner to fetch his latte and then went to grab a seat. Much to my surprise, this voice popped into my head and said “dude, don’t you know that’s a GIRL’S  drink?!” Honestly, I didn’t actually have a thought that was quite so articulate, but I did balk when the guy picked up the latte. As I sat there and thought about why, I realized that I usually look at men strangely when they order lattes and that I do consider them to be girly drinks (even if they don’t have some sugary flavored syrup added to them).

I can’t explain why I think this. No one ever said the words, “lattes are for girls” to me nor do I recall serving lattes predominantly to women when I worked at a coffee shop. So, where did I get this idea? Somehow the idea was formed through a series of impressions that clearly didn’t have a conscious impact. This is a small example of how our ideas about gender are covertly formed and often acted upon without question – until one day when we realize, much to our own surprise, that we have some silly notion in our head about which drinks are for men and which are for women.

Do you have any example of little things you’ve noticed about gender socialization that have surprised you? (It’s okay to share… none of us are immune to the internalization of these messages. I promise I won’t revoke your feminist, humanist or activist card if you share your story!)

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Isn’t it funny how sometimes it is the little statements or questions, the seemingly insignificant customs and practices that are a part of our day-to-day life that can speak such volumes about the intricacies of the way our world works and our society’s values and beliefs? Let me give you an example. I’m running around all over the world (or San Marcos, whatever) doing errands with my daughters last week when I decide to go to the drive-through lane at my bank. When we’re still almost a block away, my oldest daughter’s spidey-senses start tingling. “Can we get a sticker?” comes the desperate plea from this clairvoyant child in the back seat. “Of course you can,” says super dad — that’s me for those of you who don’t already know this about me (wink, wink).

So, we pull up to the magic tube shoot and they take my money and ask if there is anything else. “Yes,” I say, “can we have two stickers?” “Sure,” comes the response. “Would you like boy stickers or girl stickers?” And there it is — that seemingly insignificant phrase that runs over my soul like an 18-wheeler that has lost its brakes. And if that isn’t enough, from the backseat I hear the reply that I know is coming, like that 18-wheeler stopping and backing back up over my soul to finish the job, “Daddy, we need girl stickers because we’re girls.”

All this 18-wheeler and soul-crushing business may seem a little over the top, but this choice of sticker is the tip of the gender conformist, sexist and homophobic iceberg. All the pressure to do this but not that, like this but not that (or him but not her – at least not “that way”), dress like this but not like that are all wrapped up in this simple question – do you want a boy sticker or a girl sticker? As if those stickers hold all that is masculine or feminine, and that there are only two choices with no opportunity to live out characteristics that “belong” only to one or the other once your sticker is chosen. It’s like the stickers are name tags for life, permanently confining who my daughters can or should be – boy or girl.

So all this goes through my head. I’m sure the bank teller is thinking, “This isn’t that hard of a question.” After what feels like forever, I answer “It doesn’t matter,” and prepare myself to explain to my 4 and 5 year-old daughters how they don’t have to pick one or the other, that life and reality are much more fluid than that. Then, the magic tube comes back with two pink stickers – I guess the teller decided for them.

How do you deal with these little moments? Please share your difficult moments, or how you successfully challenged these day to day efforts to enforce what is “normal.”

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I’ve had this thought rolling around in my head (kind of like a song you just can’t stop singing to yourself) ever since our prevention institute. I’ve been wondering what comes first in primary prevention – is it the chicken or the egg.The Chicken or the Egg Do people change their behavior only after they change their attitudes, or is it possible that behavior change might lead to attitude change over time? And wouldn’t we rather have people change their behavior because they believed it was the right thing to do rather than because we taught them how to behave?

Attitude change takes time. I, for example, have 36 years of messages and expectations to unlearn. That is probably not going to happen, not totally, in three months of programming once a week. If we want to begin to make an impact, waiting for that type of total attitude change becomes a barrier. In addition, attitude change alone will not necessarily lead to behavior change. Part of our prevention work is giving folks the skills to put their new attitudes into action. We can’t assume that people will act just because they know why they should, especially if they don’t have the skills to act. On the other hand, attitude change is necessary if we want people to maintain the changes in behavior they make.

Then there’s behavior change. We could just focus on teaching people how to act right and not worry about their attitudes. However, I think this approach will also fall short of long-term change. When we think about parenting, we talk about getting our youth to internalize our lessons. In other words, my daughters will not likely treat people with respect when they get older if they don’t actually respect different people. While they are around me, they may behave in a respectful manner because they know that is what I expect, or because they know there will be a consequence if they don’t, but do they really respect other people? On the other hand, it may be the case that other children who see my daughters acting respectfully toward everyone may change their attitudes and then their behaviors because of my daughters’ behaviors, regardless of my daughters’ reasons for behaving that way.

Remembering that primary prevention is a long-term venture, I think that we should carefully balance and integrate both approaches. We must constantly work to change the attitudes and beliefs that create a rape culture while also teaching the behaviors and skills we are hoping that folks will take on as their own.

What do you think? Can behavior change alone end sexual violence? What about attitude change – how important is that for lasting change?

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Part of both prevention and outreach work involves starting conversations with folks about the issues that are relevant to sexual violence. Oftentimes, we are tempted to water down our message, equivocate, employ euphemisms, anything not to turn someone off before we have a chance to explain our side, to bring them over to our cause. At TAASA, we’ve been trying to share more resources and start more conversations on the blog and our Facebook page. These means are much more interactive than even email, as people can see each other’s comments (however brief) and engage in a conversation about their thoughts and feelings about whatever we’ve posted.

When I had my own blog, I know I often found it difficult to deal with people who would respond to my posts in ways that I read as excessively negative, hostile or just plain disagreeing with me. Occasionally, those things were offensive. I have to admit, my temptation was always to hit the “delete comment” button so that I neither had to see nor respond to the comment. Of course, I didn’t really want my other readers to see the comment either. Sometimes I was scared to respond, even if I truly believed that I was correct and thought I could argue my point soundly. I don’t like confrontation. Period. However, at one point, I wondered what I was writing for if I was only going to ignore anyone who might not agree with me – who might be trying to engage me in dialogue about my beliefs. (Of course, some did this more constructively than others, and there are times to pick our battles.)

Rather than being a burden, this really should be seen as the opportunity we are seeking when we put our ideas or opinions out there. This is especially true in terms of sexual assault education and/or prevention. It can be difficult to engage in these discussions. They often become heated. We open ourselves up to criticism, and when it’s not in person, it’s all too easy to think about hitting “delete” to hide the negative or offensive comments from ourselves and our other readers.

To a certain extent, we have an obligation to address people’s concerns or thoughts about what we are putting out in the world. Recently someone posted a comment on a social networking site about how she was against gay rights because she doesn’t understand gay people. It’s easy to bristle at comments like these, to shut down, to respond with “Well, maybe she doesn’t want to understand.” If we are serious about trying to make change, we can’t limit ourselves to only interacting with people who already share our beliefs. We need to be challenged and to rise to that challenge. We need to seek to understand the perspectives of people who don’t agree with us and, when appropriate, help them to understand our position.

If we want people to believe that sexual assault is wrong (or that sexism or racism is wrong) when they don’t already think so, then we have to open ourselves up to it. We have to open ourselves up to hearing them express why they don’t agree with us. And we have to lovingly explain our own side. This is the hard work, the work we want to run from… But without this dynamic tension, there can be no change.

Were there times when you’ve addressed someone’s negativity or bias either in person or in an online format? What did it take for you to decide to address it rather than ignore it?

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Today is the first day of school in many districts, and I’m so excited! I’m going to be part of our local Student Health Advisory Council (SHAC). If I were you I’d be thinking, “Poor thing, her life must be mighty dull.” But I hope before I’m through you’ll decide to check out the SHAC in your local school district. See if one even exists. (By law, school districts have to have one.) And if it does, is it a living, breathing, working bunch of people or a rubber stamp for someone who tells them what to do?

Uh, at least I think I’m going to be accepted. Saturday night I met our new school superintendent at a local community event. Right away, she seemed like an approachable person, didn’t have that “I’m the Superintendent and you may kiss my ring” demeanor. I’ve met a few like that, and I never talk with them unless I’ve had to for some reason. Usually I wanted a job in their school, so I kissed their ring and smiled admiringly, yet professionally.

Now some of you know I’ve worked in the sexual assault field for a hundred years (time does fly), so you may wonder what the big deal is about being part of a SHAC and what on earth it has to do with sexual assault.

Well, it didn’t mean a thing to me till Maggie Watson and I worked on “Just Say Yes…to Comprehensive Sex Education,” a TAASA newsletter article. (Shameless plug to those of you haven’t read it.) Being the curious, conscientious, we-need-help-and-information women we are, we read Just Say Don’t Know, one of Texas Freedom Network’s research reports, along with some other resources.

Oh good grief! (Those aren’t really the words I said, but I’m limited to what we can print.) I had a pretty good idea that responsible sex education in schools was either nonexistent or consisted of programs most thinking parents and teachers would throw a fit about if they knew what students were hearing.

How naive I was! It was much worse than I imagined even in my most critical moments: blatant misinformation, shaming, fear, biases and stereotypes based on gender and sexual orientation. (You’ll have to take a look at the report to judge for yourself.)

Both Maggie and I were shocked at what we learned, so working on the article together was one way to debrief! We found out that SHACs were first designed for parents and community members to give school boards and curriculum directors guidance on sexuality education in local districts, but now are also mandated to address the gamut of student health issues. So we said almost jokingly, “Hey, wonder if we could get on one of these councils? Maybe we could put our actions where are words are.”

The superintendent’s list of recommended SHAC members will be presented to the school board in September for approval. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, check out the Just Say Don’t Know report and see if your local school district is mentioned. There are a few promising practices noted; maybe your district is one of them. Just warning you, those odds are pretty slim. You could be among the majority. Let us know what you find out.

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