I’ve worked in the antiviolence field since 1980—in rape crisis centers as an educator, advocate, director and board member of two state sexual assault coalitions/ councils. As a committed feminist who raised sons, I know the work I do did not always make their lives easy. Mom was (and is) “the rape lady.” As teens in the 1990s, it meant they were sometimes teased, sometimes questioned and sometimes confided in (I can’t tell you how many late-night phone calls we processed about their friends’ situations at home.) The result was that they became amazing young men. Now that they are grown, my sons have expressed their gratitude for the messages they received growing up. They have acknowledged that they made them better men, and better partners and hope they will make them better parents.
In 1999, when my oldest son was 13, he often would have friends over, playing games and watching movies late into the night. It wasn’t uncommon for two or three to spend the night, camped out on the floor of our family room. Morning would mean boys collecting their possessions, having a quick breakfast, and leaving for home. Our neighborhood was like many others, with their homes a few blocks away, and all the parents were well acquainted with one another. One morning, as Nate, Sam and Trevor (not their real names) were eating, I took a quick look at the family room to ensure everyone had packed up all their belongings. In the VHS player I found a tape labeled “Three Stooges Marathon.” I went to remove the tape to return it to Nate. For some reason, I pressed “play” instead. What a surprise: it was pornography! Not hardcore, but nevertheless degrading to women and not acceptable in my home, for my son, or for Trevor, or Nate and Sam, both neighborhood boys I cared about. I was furious and disappointed. What do I do?
I gathered the boys together and said, “The Three Stooges! How fun! Let’s watch a few together!” Of course, their faces gave it all away. I pushed in the tape and they quickly caved! I happen to have a copy of Tough Guise: Violence, Media & the Crisis in Masculinity that the Media Education Foundation produced and featuring activist educator Jackson Katz (a Voice Male contributing editor.) I said it was their choice—either we watch Tough Guise together and have a dialogue about it…or I tell their parents. They chose to watch the film. The “conversation” we had afterward was one of the toughest I ever had (and I have taught violence awareness and prevention to elementary, junior and senior high, and university students, as well as professional and college sports teams and coaches).
The boys were chillingly silent and, while they did sit respectfully (all painfully aware that their parents could be told), they did not give me much to work with during our “dialogue.” They were not happy but I could tell they were more than a little intrigued by the film’s message. When I started talking about the issues of violence against women and the objectification of women—and how those issues apply to their mothers, sisters, and friends in the community, I saw a glimmer of understanding. I even talked about Tom, a youth their age in the neighborhood who had begun to identify as female. They were struggling with Tom and getting pressure from others to bully him. We talked a bit about differences and acceptance. As with most difficult subjects you’re trying to talk about with teens, you need to “know when to hold ’em, and know when to fold ’em” so I tried to keep our dialogue brief. Despite their begrudging participation, when it was all done I hoped they walked away with more than a little glimmer of awareness.
Three years later, the same boys piled into my van en route to football practice. As parents of teenagers eventually learn, I knew the car was one of the best places to have difficult conversations. I asked about their transgender classmate Tom. I knew she had fully transitioned, but was still going by Tom since the school would not allow her to use a female name. I asked them how it was going for Tom. They didn’t know I sat on a committee for the two high schools in our community to assist school social workers and administrators with managing tough issues including heroin addiction, sexual assault, and the struggles of LGBTQ students. I had worked on bathroom and locker room privileges for Tom and was wondering how she was doing in our conservative community. I asked if they felt Tom was safe at school, did she have friends, and did students tease or bully her. From what they had seen, they told me, she was accepted and it was not an issue. Not a negative word was said about Tom—only that her dress was against school rules—and no one was addressing it.
Apparently Tom favored midriff tops and shorts in the warmer months, which was against the school dress code for girls. The boys didn’t feel there should be a double standard because Tom was a “guy” dressing like a girl. Truthfully, I think they wanted the girls to wear midriff tops and shorts for obvious reasons. I brought the conversation around to why the school banned certain clothes for girls, inviting an awareness of the sexism it implied. We discussed that perhaps Tom did not have to abide by the same rules because she was transgender and not seen as “provocative.” Again, another difficult conversation initiated by the “rape lady” to get them to see sexism (and heterosexism) at work, and to help them see the big picture.
Fast forward 12 years and these now amazing men are having serious relationships, getting married and starting families. At a recent gathering, Nate, one of the young men that had been on my family room floor all those years before, pulled me aside. He thanked me for helping him recognize the way boys are socialized to objectify women. He said it impacted his decisions when he began dating (although he told me that in 1999 he was very angry at me for destroying the “Stooges” tape). He said it certainly contributed to his meeting and marrying Jennifer, a successful and brilliant young woman.
Sometimes I think that should have been my retirement moment—I can rest now. But I am too stubborn and have so much more to do.
Last year, at a small gathering with Jackson Katz, I finally got to tell him my story. He encouraged me to write to Voice Male. No one ever does this work alone. I express gratitude to Jackson and all the men who are role models for future generations. I’d like to think I have added to your movement’s success by helping to shape three more amazing men.
Kathleen Kempke has been involved in the antiviolence movement for 35 years. She has written prevention curricula, educated students and professionals, trained volunteers, and advocated for survivors. She has lectured in the U.S. and Eastern Europe on sexual assault issues and has worked with two state coalitions addressing domestic violence and sexual assault. After retiring from rape crisis work in Chicago, she moved to the South where, believing that retirement is overrated, she manages a rape crisis center. She is a mother and stepmother of three sons and two daughters and soon to be nonna to a grandson. She can be reached at kathleenkempke@sbcglobal.net.
