I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I was living in New York and working in broadcasting. I was between jobs, and I attended a party where I was told there would be some good opportunities to network. It was the mid-1970s, a time when there was a lot of drug use and a lot of drinking, and I recall some very crazy parties. I recall them because I don't do any drugs and I never have. I don't drink either. So, yeah, I do remember the parties. What I also remember is feeling like an outsider. It wasn't an era when those of us who were different were welcomed-- in fact, some of the folks I worked with disliked me because I wouldn't get high with them. They thought of me as rude or standoffish or antisocial. Perhaps I was all of these. Or perhaps I was just in the wrong place and the wrong time.
Anyway, I was at this party and there was the usual craziness. But there was also one guy I needed to talk to because I'd heard his company was hiring. As I said, I was between jobs. So, I engaged him in conversation, or at least I tried to. He had been drinking, but then, most of the folks there had been drinking. I did my best to be cordial and he seemed to want to chat. In fact, we had what I thought was a friendly conversation about the state of the music industry. The party was noisy, and it was difficult for us to hear each other; he suggested we go into the other room, and I followed him. At some point, however, something shifted. He suddenly tried to kiss me, and when I didn't seem interested, he got annoyed. He grabbed me and put his hand down my blouse. I was able to pull away, but he grabbed me and tried a second time. By now, I was shaking and all I wanted to do was get out of that room. He called me some kind of vulgar name but he did let me leave. I buttoned my blouse, I got a taxi, and I went home.
What I also remember is what happened when I told some people about it (several folks wondered why I had left the party early). I explained what happened, but nobody seemed surprised. The general attitude was that I shouldn't have gone anywhere with him. That evidently gave him the impression I was interested in him. (I wasn't sure how going into another room to continue a conversation was a sign of anything other than wanting to continue the conversation; but I guess I was naive.) Just about nobody I told was upset with him. They assumed I had somehow done something to bring this on; and while his behavior might have been a little crude, well, he had been drinking and besides, boys will be boys.
Of course, what had me thinking about all of this was the recent case at Cornell where a young woman went to a party at a frat house and was allegedly sexually assaulted. Agreed, our stories are not similar: she had been drinking heavily, and at first she consented (although whether someone who is drunk can consent is a matter for lawyers to debate). But at some point, the situation became non-consensual, and even when she wanted it to stop, it didn't. The first time she reported it, the administration didn't seem to take her very seriously; this second time got her more attention, but probably not the kind she wanted. Her story quickly deteriorated into online commenters calling her vulgar names and claiming she was a liar; and talk show hosts saying she deserved what had happened. I felt like I was back in the 1970s. Did I "deserve" what happened to me? I wasn't drinking, I wasn't acting provocatively, and yet, a guy I barely knew tried to assault me... and he suffered no consequences at all for doing so. And I was told to just go on with my life, since somehow, what had happened must have been my fault.
You'd think that in 2026, we'd handle these situations with more compassion. You'd think that in 2026, we wouldn't have such a double standard, and we'd finally place some blame on the guys at the frat house (these guys texted each other, saying she was available, and inviting other guys to join in). But no, it's still only the woman who behaved inappropriately. And if a woman reports being sexually assaulted, some folks still assume she's either lying or exaggerating-- the online commenters were especially vitriolic about that. There are places women shouldn't go and things women shouldn't do; and if it all goes wrong, well, what did she expect? And I still remember that night in New York as if it were yesterday, and I still remember how alone I felt. (If the internet had existed back then, I dread to think the names I would have been called.) It's so disappointing to think that five decades later, some people still react the same today as they did in the mid-70s. I wonder why that is...
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