feminist blogs

In perhaps the most telling example yet of the consequences of the Taliban’s increasing return to power, a 19-year old woman and a 25-year old man were stoned to death pursuant to Taliban orders.  The two were in love.  They eloped when the man was unable to persuade family members to allow him to marry the woman.  The woman was engaged to marry a relative of her lover, but was unwilling to do so.

The death sentence for adultery was imposed by a religious “court” under Shariah law.  Horribly, the deaths were carried out by hundreds of the victims’ neighbors and even family members.  All of the people doing the stoning were male.

While many authorities condemned the stonings (A spokesman for the provincial government said: “It is against all human rights and international conventions.  There was no court. It was cruel.”), the supposed “mainstream religious authorities” in Afghanistan appear to be cowering to the Taliban.  In one example, a local head of the national Ulema Council said that stoning to death was the appropriate punishment for an illegal sexual relationship.  And, on August 10, a group of 350 religious “scholars” and government officials issued a joint statement “calling for more punishment under Shariah, apparently referring to stoning, amputations and lashings.”

Of course, none of this should be surprising.  The Taliban and their religious law were horrible when they were last in power.  When they started to resume power, they promised to curb their worst disgraces and then (certainly not surprisingly) resumed the oppression and brutality.  The Afghani government has made overtures to reconciliation and giving the Taliban even more power.  Maybe these stoning deaths will quash those overtures.

When I first told one of my law school friends that I was going into the JAG Corps, he laughed. It was going to be a life of quiet irony, he said, being a liberal feminist in the Army. I knew what he meant, but I think that it’s genuinely important to have liberal feminist types in all areas. Especially in a place where we prosecute a lot of sexual assault cases. I would say that the biggest portions of my work are drug and AWOL (absence without leave) cases. Sexual assault cases are a significant part of my work, but by no stretch the biggest. Of course, I am only one of many prosecutors in my office, and at any given time, we have at least a handful of active sexual assault cases. And being lawyers, we talk about our cases. A lot. (And I am singularly grateful, that I work with an amazing group of attorneys who handle these kinds of cases with dignity and professionalism.)

There are two distinct threads which come out of these conversations. The first is about our (the attorneys’) attempted understanding at what happened. We have conversations which are essentially “There is something mechanically confusing about how the accused* says he did this,” “Well, if he’s in this position/in this part of the room,” “I don’t understand how that would work,” “Do people really do that? That seems like something CSI made up,” “How does this piece of physical evidence fit in with what the witnesses say happened,” etc. The more awkward conversations are when someone really wants to just say, “Well, in my experience, X is normal or I’ve tried Y and I don’t think it’s weird or anything,” but would rather not air their entire sexual history or proclivities to a third of the office. Obviously, some of that is professionalism. But it’s also that talking about sex is frequently thought of unseemly, that it’s not dignified.

Most of my fellow prosecutors are my peers, in terms of age, education, and professional experience. We have to be comfortable getting up in front of officers who outrank us to explain in very clinical terms how someone was assaulted. It’s essential that we be able to say “Where did he put his penis?” without feeling foolish, flustered, or embarrassed. We have to be able to talk with survivors and victims and help them come up with some kind of vocabulary for explaining what happened to them both as a matter of sexual mechanics and personal experience. This is the sort of thing that gets easier with practice, but it requires talking about sex in a way that’s both detached and understanding. The facts of a given situation really determine how difficult this is likely to be. For instance, at my installation, we prosecuted a case where the fact that a threesome had occurred earlier in the evening was relevant to the case. Getting people to talk about that (and to figure out a way to put it in front of the panel**) was hard. And there were definitely points in the conversation where some people wanted to say “Look, I’ve done that. Could we please stop talking about it like no one on the planet’s never done it before and that it’s some sort of deviancy that has to be hidden away?” Talking about sex as though it’s a normal part of the human experience isn’t somehow perceived as professional: there must be some prurient interest hidden behind.

The second line of conversation seems to involve trying to make sense of the behavior of the people involved. We are always looking for ways to explain why someone might have done something: an accused, a witness, a victim. Can you make someone (i.e., a panel member**) understand why a victim of sexual assault might still continue to attend parties where her assailant was also present? Why she might not tell anyone? Believe it or not, there are experts to hire who attempt to explain counter intuitive victim behavior. (After spending enough time this job, I don’t believe there’s such a thing as intuitive victim behavior or an expected pattern of responses. Sexual assault affects every person differently and putting stock in their reactions isn’t going to provide any meaningful information about the veracity of the allegation.)

And it’s that second line of conversation that I seem to inevitably utter a sentence which begins “Well, having been a [insert relevant demographic identifier]…” When I worked on a case that involved a young teenager who had had a “consensual” sexual relationship with a significantly older soldier, I felt like I was constantly saying “Look, I was thirteen years old once…” I worked on a case where a young female soldier was groped by another soldier who banged on her barracks room door in the middle of the night while absolutely smashed and essentially pushed his way in past a very sleepy woman when she answered the door. Someone (thankfully not one of the attorneys) kept asking why she didn’t just push him out and lock her door, why she said please when she asked him to leave, why she didn’t call the police. I began every other sentence “Well, I know that when I was [in a position that bore a remote resemblance to the fact pattern]…” or “Well, having been a [demographic identifier]…” I kept hoping that by offering some point on which this individual could empathize, I might not have to say “Look, he’s drunk, out of control, and terrifying her. What is so fucking hard about understanding that he is not behaving rationally and reasonably represents a threat to her safety, well-being, and general peace of mind about her goddamn living space?!”

Which is why I think you need liberal feminist types in places like the JAG Corps: you need to have people who are willing to engage on those points of discussion, to try and persuade commanders and others in positions of leadership that this sort of thing needs to be taken seriously, and so on. When Justice Sonia Sotomayor was going through the confirmation process and there was all of this discussion about empathy, I was genuinely excited. I think that having people who don’t have the standard experience can provide a lot of awareness that might otherwise be overlooked, either deliberately or just through the exercise of privilege. I’m not claiming that I am single-handedly helping bring enlightenment into my work place or anything like that, but I am hopeful that these discussions are moving the ball forward.

*In the Army, a defendant is referred to as the accused.

**Panel=jury, member=juror

I’ve got mixed feelings about Slate’s advice columnist Emily Yoffe who writes under the pseudonym Dear Prudence. The second letter in her column this week reminds me why.

First the letter:

I am a female law student who is employed for the summer (and potentially for the school year) at a small firm that I’m really enjoying. The law office shares a floor of an office building with a bigger law firm, and my cubicle is “on the border.” All of the attorneys at both firms are male, but at the other firm, the men are far from politically correct. I have two issues: First, one of the attorneys, “Jerry,” often makes comments to me about my appearance. These range from annoying but harmless (“Nice tan”) to creepy (“I like that skirt,” in a lecherous tone). I have tried to ignore him or subtly indicate his comments aren’t welcome, but neither approach has worked. I’m tempted to speak to one of my firm’s partners, but I fear it would make me look like a little girl running to a man to fight my battles. I’m also considering documenting all his comments until I have enough for a sexual harassment suit so I can make his firm pay for the legal education I used to nail it. Second, I overhear a lot of conversations I find highly offensive. The men are fond of using homosexuality-based insults, calling one another or opponents “fag” and “homo.” The work environment is becoming so unpleasant that I wonder how long I can stand it. What should I do?

—Livid but Lost Law Student

Well, it certainly sound like the sort of place that might having you looking for employment discrimination as a third year elective and the kind of firm you may want to reject an offer from, but let’s hear from Prudie.

Dear Livid,
I hope you don’t view your law degree as a carte blanche to take to court everyone who makes you uncomfortable. If you tell a judge that getting the compliment “I like that skirt” made you unable to discharge your own legal duties, the conclusion may be that you need to find another line of work, not that the firm of Blowhard, Homophobe & Creep owes you a tuition check. The law firm you’re working for likely won’t be impressed with your enterprising spirit if they find out you’ve filed suit against the guys next door. Let’s deal with Jerry. As you’ve discovered, being subtle isn’t working. I assume your legal education is teaching you to state your position plainly, so do so. Next time Jerry comes over, tell him, “Jerry, I’d appreciate it if you would cease remarking on my appearance. I find your comments disruptive and your tone hostile. I hope you understand what I’m saying and that I won’t have to say it again. Thanks.” Only if he escalates should you take it to one of your partners, explaining that you’ve tried to deal with him yourself. As for the frat boys next door—get a sound-blocking headset if you must. Yes, their comments are repugnant, but you don’t want to be the Carrie Nation of your floor. Let’s hope this is resolved one day when a client of the firm who doesn’t share their sensibilities overhears the office banter.

—Prudie

Where to even begin? One’s law degree isn’t carte blanche to sue everyone who bothers you, but it’s certainly a professional license which entitles you to sue someone who’s violating the law*. A hostile work environment (and let’s be clear here: it’s hostile) is actionable in the U.S. Second, sexual harassment is not a compliment. Jerry’s not leering at her because he’s trying to pay her a compliment: he’s trying to demean her, undercut her, intimidate her, and make himself feel superior. Having someone in your workplace who makes you that uncomfortable could certainly make it very difficult to accomplish your work. Prudie’s response suggests that Livid just needs to suck it up and get thicker skin. There’s no mention of the idea the person whose behavior and reactions need to change is Jerry.

I do agree that Livid should put it all on the line once and tell Jerry in no uncertain terms that his commentary is unwelcome, but I suspect his only response is going to be “Why do you have to take this so seriously? It was just a compliment. Can’t you take a compliment?” (Read: Why are you such a uptight bitch who refuses to understand that I am perfectly within my rights to tell you how you should and should not respond to my banality?) Taking it to the partners is definitely the next step, if for no other reason that if Livid wants to sue them successfully, she’ll probably need to demonstrate that she went to her bosses and/or HR and raised a complaint and they failed to act on it or adequately address the issue.

It’s not 100% clear to me, but it seems as though Jerry and the homophobia are coming from the firm with whom Livid shares a floor in an office building, not her own employer. If that’s the case, I think it’s even more important to raise the issue with the partners, one of which has absolutely nothing to do with sexual harassment: client confidentiality. If Livid’s able to hear homophobic banter, I can’t imagine what else she might overhear. This is something the other firm should be aware of, even if their staff is made up of a bunch of people who have no objection to loudly voicing bigoted remarks. And I would think that her own firm would want to be aware of the fact that the other people on the office floor are creating a huge headache (not to mention potentially litigious situation) for them. Assuming Livid likes her own employer, she really ought to give them a shot to resolve this situation. If they won’t, then it’s probably time to head back to the career services office.

And finally, Carrie Nation? Carrie Nation!? Comparing a woman who has a perfectly legitimate gripe about her workplace with a woman who charged around Kansas destroying bars with a hatchet? Seriously? Next time, you might just come right out and call Livid irrational and hysterical.

*To be fair, the likelihood of a successful lawsuit that would enable Livid to finance her higher education is pretty small.

The big new issue facing female lawyers today: Peep-toe shoes.

Yes, the legal blogs are in a tizzy over the question of whether women should or should not wear peep-toe shoes to court, because said shoes may be “provocative.” (To which I say: Better provocative clothing items, please). As is the case whenever women’s work attire is brought up, there is no consensus on what is or isn’t appropriate. Some judges think it’s fine if women wear peep-toe pumps — they wear peep-toes too! Some other judges think it’s inappropriate! Some people on the internet think toes are too sexy to be shown! Some people on the internet think it’s ok to wear peep-toes, but not full-frontal (full frontal!) open-toes! Some people on the internet worked with This One Woman who wore this one Totally Inappropriate Sexy Thing! Some people on the internet think I should make them a sandwich! Other people on the internet think this whole conversation is inane!

…and I am in that last camp. If you are spending hours of your life arguing that women should not wear peep-toe shoes to court or to the office, I would suggest taking up a hobby, or perhaps volunteering somewhere. You will never get those hours of your life back! You could have spent them playing with puppies (I hear the ASPCA does good work), and instead you were debating the relative provocativeness of toenails as compared to toe-cleavage. Because, really, women in the law have bigger issues to worry about than whether another attorney or a juror or a commenter on Above the Law is going to think we’re unprofessional floozies who “risk losing credibility and respect” because our toenail polish is visible.

Bigger issues like, “Can I wear a sleeveless top to the office when it is 105 degrees outside?” (Answer: No. Says the lady in the sleeveless top).

Obviously, it was a great decision by Chief U.S District Judge Vaughn Walker to rule that California’s ban on same-sex marriage was unconstitutional.  The ruling will certainly be appealed all the way to the Supreme Court (the NY Times gives reasons why the Supreme Court will have difficulty in reversing Judge Walker’s ruling) and, therefore, the important point now will be whether he allows same-sex marriages in California to resume during the appeals process.  Because of the length of time of the appeals process, the only fair decision on his part will be to lift the temporary stay he granted and allow the same-sex marriage process to resume immediately.

I found the following quote from his ruling to be particularly on point for not just same-sex marriage, but gender equality in general:

[The exclusion of lesbians and gays] exists as an artifact of a time when the genders were seen as having distinct roles in society and in marriage.  That time has passed.

(And BTW, there is a new documentary about the role the Mormons played in the passage of Prop 8.)

No one disputes that it is risky to take a non-traditional career path, especially when pursuing a law degree.  When you add reproductive justice issues into the equation, with all of the false assumptions that come from outside of the movement, the path becomes that much more challenging.  In the closing plenary session of the LSRJ Leadership Institute this afternoon, Malika Saada Saar of the Rebecca Project for Human Rights boldly shared that going through law school on her alternative path challenged everything that she knew about herself.

As someone who never pictured herself in law school and finds herself continually bucking the recommended path for success on the road to a JD and beyond, it was reassuring for me to hear.  Even this incredibly successful, powerful and inspiring woman had doubts about herself while in school.  The truth is that the biggest favor a person who is passionate about human rights issues can do for herself is giver herself permission to trust in her ability to make decisions.  Law Review and firm work do not have to be included.  Or they can be.  Good grades can open doors but so can volunteer work and hands-on experience.  There are many options open to each of us and each of those options can play a significant role in the reproductive justice movement.  Once we get ourselves through the doors of the law school, we can feel comfortable that we have gotten over the main hurdle that demands we fit into a certain mold.  From there, the challenge becomes finding our purpose and our place and moving boldly forward. (more…)