The writer describes an experience trying to confront another group of men on how to address the sexual violence that is too prevalent in the U.S.
By Martin Henson
Beacon Media
It feels like we all have heard this story before. As the world confronts yet another group of men accused of sexually assaulting an anonymous woman at a frat party at Cornell University, this is just the latest round of horrific allegations to make national news.
While there is no one easy answer to this endemic issue, my mind returns to the moment in 2020 when I sat with eight men in Boston for a sexual assault leadership course I co-developed with another male activist. There were constant calls for men to address gender violence in community, and after looking around, I reluctantly accepted.
My co-organizer and I were the only community organizers we knew who had experience addressing sexual assault in a mental health setting, and rather than constantly correct well meaning misconceptions about addressing violence, I felt responsible to put that experience to good use.
Now, Jane Doe’s alleged victimization renews calls for male intervention around sexual assault.
People aren’t stepping up. I understand why. It’s the same reason I don’t want to run that training again.
Few men believe they are capable of sexual violence, despite statistics that show how frequently these crimes occur. I frequently engaged in these kinds of difficult conversations with men and boys, as I was a therapist at the time.
I wrestled with how to address the norms of adult sexuality young men navigate and young women survive, in a way where men created intervention without women demanding it.
I found something unexpected when I ran the workshop. Our info session stated:
“We believe that all men are connected to sexual harm that happens in our communities regardless of whether we identify as having caused acute harm or not – and we also believe that men can be part of the process of addressing the root causes of this harm.”
A prerequisite of attending the leadership course meant the men participating had to bring a story of sexually questionable, aggressive, concerning, or assaultive behavior. I brought one as well.
A disdain for women wasn’t the predominant driving force behind the problematic incidents cited. The driving force is the gap in how men learn what consent is and its boundaries: we learn far too late, often focusing on how lack of consent affects others before we recognize it internally. Women’s safety becomes the cost of that gap.
Reflecting on my youth, no man ever taught me how to say no. You can’t reliably honor a boundary you have never learned to recognize in yourself. In that workshop, we got to the root of consent: what it meant for us, what it meant for those negatively impacted, and what happened if two people’s definitions didn’t align.
The stories made the space heavy, sat on my chest as men recounted the events, and rode my back as I walked out of the building. The questions asked and answers given were “the work” I believe all men should do. Holding that energy took weeks to release.
Six years have passed since 2020 and almost 10 years since the “Me Too” hashtag was popularized after Harvey Weinstein’s scandals; the same conversations abound. Sexual assault rates have largely remained the same.
Whether or not I want to run that training doesn’t matter. What I do know is that I am responsible to the men and women in my community. It’s the positive masculinity that understandably gets less press these days: the willingness to step into difficult situations, to lead by example, and to create safer environments for women.
If this type of manhood was celebrated and added to the toxic online “manosphere” that celebrates the opposite, our society would be transformed.
We all have a duty to create safer communities. Creating spaces where men can explore and build leadership capable of decreasing sexual violence is men’s work.
Martin Henson, who lives in Raleigh, is an advocate and executive director of BMEN Foundation, which convenes Black men to address issues in their lives and communities. This column is syndicated by Beacon Media and is available to republish for free on all platforms under Beacon Media’s guidelines.
