#MeToo on the campus: Five men who rue the way they treated girls in school

The New York Times invited male readers to tell about their high school experiences

Late on the Friday afternoon of September 21, the same week that Christine Blasey Ford went public with accusations of sexual assault against Brett Kavanaugh, The New York Times invited male readers to tell us about their high school experiences. Had you, we asked, ever behaved toward girls or women in ways you now regret?

By Monday morning, we had more than 750 responses.

Not all of them were from men recounting past experiences of committing or witnessing sexual assault. Some told us that they’d always conducted themselves respectfully: “We knew VERY well what was appropriate and not appropriate,” one wrote. “Forcing women to do anything was not only illegal, it was grotesque.” A number of men told of being too terrified of girls to have done anything of the sort. A number of women said they were frustrated to see that we were once again seeking to view the world from a male perspective.

But a remarkable number of stories poured in from men about past misbehaviour. The stories covered a wide spectrum of sexual misconduct, some of it deeply disturbing: there were multiple submissions that discussed participating in gang rapes. In others, men looked back and thought differently on activities that might be considered the everyday realm of high school boys: “I would walk up to girls in my school and undo their bras. I thought it was funny but they thought it was horrible,” one wrote. “I felt like I had a right to touch them or undo their bras as a joke and honestly thought it was OK.” Above all, the submissions were striking for their candour: they were, or at least seemed to be, submitted by men genuinely questioning why they had once conducted themselves in ways of which they now felt ashamed.

We had to leave out many compelling submissions, because The Times decided we would not publish these stories anonymously. And so, many of the same men who submitted searching accounts of who they once were declined to attach their names. “As much as I want to see this conversation move our country forward, I cannot lose my employment. I cannot lose my reputation,” one said. Most of the people willing to be on the record were either of retirement age or close to it.

Below are the stories of men who chose to share. Some of them anguished over whether to do so. Those who chose to share often said they felt they could contribute something important.

“It required some agony to say yes, but I have tried to live as honestly as I am able to do,” wrote Arthur J Slavin. “We all need to help this discussion go forward.”
 

1. Patrick Herron

Two of my friends and I once took a drive with a girl who lived on my street. We drove to the top of Mulholland Drive and told her she would have to walk home unless she would allow us to fondle her and expose her breasts. This only occurred once when I was in the car, but it was a sort of trick to play on girls that had been “passed down” by one of my friend’s older brothers. As a father of two millennial daughters and one millennial son, I would be horrified today if anything close to that ever occurred. This is the first time I have ever spoken about it.

When I look back at being a 15-year-old, in 1966-67, it just felt like an anything-goes kind of environment. What stayed with me about this was somehow both the innocence of youth and the giddy power I felt over this girl. She never told her parents about this. We met again last year at a funeral for a mutual high school friend, and she was very cordial, albeit brief. I did not offer an apology because the circumstances of the interaction were public, with other classmates and family around us. As I drove away it occurred to me how embarrassed I felt meeting her again, and I wondered how she viewed me as an adult now.

2. Gene Biringer

When I was in high school, a group of 10 to 12 friends — boys and girls — occasionally indulged in friendly “rumbles,” a kind of group wrestling match. I suppose it was a way to express our need for a little chaos amid our structured suburban lives. On one such occasion, I took advantage of the evening darkness and the jumble of bodies to grope the breast of a girl to whom I was attracted and in whose presence I felt intimidated, because of her beauty, intellect, and grace. It was a spontaneous, unpremeditated act — too public for me to have derived any sexual pleasure from it; too meaningful, because of who she was, for me to have targeted someone else. I think I did it because she seemed otherwise out of reach for me; perhaps such one-sided contact was all the intimacy I could ever hope to enjoy with her. And yet, with so many elbows, knees, hands, and feet flying about, I also recall making an instantaneous calculation: Maybe I can get away with this.

I don’t know whether she ever knew who groped her, but she immediately extricated herself from the pile, clearly upset, and promptly left without saying a word. I have never forgotten the look on her face: she seemed at once hurt, disappointed, indignant, and bewildered. Seeing her expression, I was seized with remorse for what I’d done, although I had not the courage to confess and apologise, then or later. But I was so ashamed that I’ve never done anything of the kind since then. I can imagine that in the early 1970s, my male friends (and perhaps men generally) would have regarded my action as relatively harmless, against the broad spectrum of sexual misconduct. For my own part, I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I didn’t realise how wrong it was until I saw the young woman’s reaction, and I’ve regretted it ever since.

3. Arthur J Slavin

I was in the US Air Force, age 19. I was in a relationship with a woman two years older than I was; we were sexually involved, but not having intercourse — I was committed to being a virgin until marriage. Our sexual life was frustrating for both of us. One night, I urgently tried to convince her to give me oral sex. She did not want this. I did not coerce her physically, but I urged her to do something she rejected, and I played on our emotional entanglement until she did. This was wrong, harmful to her, and I knew it. I have thought about that night ever since, repelled by my behaviour toward a young woman I cared for.

I knew it was wrong then, ethically and morally, and I apologised the next day.

I am now in my 80s. I think standards may have changed, but I think many young men still act as I did.

4. Fanon Frazier

Second year, community college, upstate New York. I was with three other guys; we all went to school together. One I knew very well — we often freestyle rapped together; the others were acquaintances.

One night, we visited a young woman’s apartment — I knew her in passing. We got there, she let us inside. Her girlfriend was there. I either grew aware, or remembered, that she had a reputation as being “down,” meaning down for a good time.

Yes, but not this time. Her demeanour was different, sadder than usual. Clearly she had decidedly changed, and said as much. Still, my party immediately started coaxing her verbally. I sat back, unsure of exactly where this situation was leading the six of us. She was consistently standoffish, but they continued to lead her into the dark pantry. She did not want to go. I stood outside with the victim’s friend; we were silent, eyes down. I was frozen. Frozen together, I now realise. The girlfriend must have felt I was keeping watch; and though I was not, I was complicit because my party must have also thought the same.

It’s difficult to say why I failed to intervene, but not from social ostracism. I was and am definitely ashamed of what was happening around me, but this was not why I froze. I wasn’t sure what I was experiencing, but I knew exactly what was happening and that the atmosphere overwhelmed everything. My party was so nonchalant — whether because they’d done this before or just heard about it from others, I’m not sure.

I don’t actually know what happened to her in the pantry. I’ve always blocked it out until now, relieved she got out before unwanted sex. (That, I do feel sure about — when they left, no one’s clothes looked dishevelled.) If that point were reached, heard or felt where we stood, I cannot say what the girlfriend or I might have done. I never talked about it afterwards. I felt it was something bigger than me that I couldn’t control, and that I didn’t have a place in reprimanding them.

Would I be frozen in that situation again? Definitely not — if it happened today, I would intervene.

5. Terry Wheaton

I dated a lot of girls in high school. On most of our dates we “made out,” with lots of kissing, a little petting and wandering hands. My memory is that I went absolutely no further than the girl wished to go. Stop was stop. No was no.

But my most vivid recollection is of kissing Diane in the back seat of a car on a double date and her just sitting there frozen. She obviously didn’t even want to kiss. I tried again and again. She didn’t say no or stop. She just sat there.

To this day, I think of that experience with shame and regret. Those feelings come over me at unexpected times. And I’m nearly 82 years old now. I should have stopped. And I’m sure I should have apologised. I did neither. I’m sorry, Diane.

Responses have been edited for length

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