I Remember the First Time I Experienced Sexual Orientation Harassment on the Job

Yes, you read that correctly. I wish I didn't, but I truly, very vividly remember the first time I experienced sexual orientation harassment on the job. And for what it's worth the next three times as well? But those are other stories for perhaps another day.

The first time was in 2002, and I was attacked during an all-organization management meeting in front of dozens of my peers for being (accurately perceived as) gay.

A hired, 3rd party facilitator didn't notice me come in a minute late to a management meeting, sitting in the only open seat, just behind where she stood to facilitate in the center of a massive U-shaped set of tables.

Clearly thinking she only saw a room full of women, she admitted she was modifying her talk, and spoke for almost 30 full minutes about the intersection between women and management before the knowing wide-eyes, giggles, and awkward smirks from my peers forced her to stop.

I wasn't going to interrupt her to point out there was a man in the room, and no one else was apparently going to either. I honestly didn't care, I didn't feel affected by her talking points and she was still sharing some pretty solid information that I found helpful.

However, once she spun around to notice me, she looked mortified for a split second before immediately steadying herself, and walked back toward me, I assumed to apologize (which would have been completely unnecessary) or maybe welcome me. But no.

Instead, she very oddly, and loudly walked up to my part of the U-shaped desk, sat down on the edge of it in front of me, turned to the room full of mt peers and started questioning me with a strange condescending, sing-song tone:

Facilitator: Are you supposed to be in this meeting? Its for managers.

Me: Yes, I'm a manager here.

Facilitator: Oh, well then what's your name?

Me: Ben

Facilitator: Well Ben, do you like your job?

Me: Yes.

Facilitator: Do you like sports?

Me: Um, sometimes?

Facilitator: Do you like to cook?

Me: Yeah?

Facilitator: Do you like theater?

Me: Sometimes?

Facilitator: Are a lot of your close friendships with women?

Me: Sometimes?

The questions were loud, odd, rapid. She was clearly going somewhere in her mind.

She then swiftly pulled away and turned to everyone, motioning to me, "I can tell by this man's answers to my questions that he's probably a homosexual--that means he sleeps with men--and therefore is essentially a woman in the eyes of most people, including how he probably manages his team."

While the room was pretty quiet during her weird rapid-fire questions, it completely fell deathly silent at this moment. All amused smirks and bouncing smiles instantly faded into tight lips and a complete lack of eye contact.

She continued, "I bet he frets like a woman, cries like a woman, gossips like a woman, worries and nurtures like a woman, am I right?" She turned back to me directly with her question. "No?" I said meekly in a stake of continued shock.

I had only been at this job for two months.

I was not out-of-the-closet at work yet, because I wasn't sure if this place was a safe environment. I had been out with friends and family since I was 15, but I was now 25 still living in the closet at work because I'd learned that I couldn't always be "out" in all places I existed.

And this very moment, while not truly serving me, was proof to my instincts.

"I'm sure he does." She waved me away, smiling like someone who won their contentious court case, "I know many gay men and they are all just as fragile but determined as any woman. But it doesn't matter. Everything I've shared today still fits."

The room felt very big and I felt very small.

I scanned the room for ONE face, one set of helpful, compassionate, or allied eyes. Nothing. No one would look at me; everyone looked either panic-stricken, awkward, or entirely unsure.

The facilitator continued with her initial line of "women in management" routine for another 30min before she paused for a 10min bio break. However, we all still had two more hours with her after that before lunch.

Once I stepped out into the hallway, another manager I knew better than most rushed over to me and very seriously asked if I wanted to go to HR. I said yes with some reluctance, because I knew what happened wasn't end-of-the-world material, but it was still chaotic and horrifying and confusing and embarrassed.

I had never been in this kind of situation before and my ears were ringing.

She didn't offer to walk with me to HR, but agreed it might be best if I spoke to someone. Not knowing what else to do, I walked down to their offices and was surprised when I bumped into several of my peers from the session already there, telling HR what had happened--somewhat on my behalf, but moreover seemingly because they were worried they might be in trouble for not stopping her or addressing the incident.

After retelling the incident the head of HR myself, she finished taking notes and lifted her head, "What are your plans now?" She asked directly.

"I... I don't know? I don't want to go back to finish that meeting, if that's alright?" I replied.

"No, sure. I get that. But are you going to sue her? Are you going to sue us?" She pressed.

No apology. No notes of concern. No expression of empathy. No questions about my thoughts or feelings. Nothing. She simply wanted to know--then and there--if I was going to start getting litigious.

"Oh god, no!" I said, with anxious, confused confidence.

"Ok, thank you. We appreciate that. I realize this must have been very unpleasant. I'm sorry this put you in a weird place." She finally, half-heartedly replied, before getting up and allowing me to go back to my office or take the day off--whichever I felt was most appropriate.

I went back to my office. And I learned a bit later that the head of HR walked down to the session, asked to speak to the facilitator in the hallway before then coming back in and excusing everyone from the session for the remainder of the morning. No explanation, I understood, but clearly no one was too confused.

End of story.

Essentially. Because after that, it was never mentioned again. To me, from HR, or even from anyone I worked with or witnessed the event.

It was like it never happened.

Oh, I heard rumors, whispers, and got the occasional weird, guilty or pained looks and stares in the remaining few years I worked there? But it was like a faded memory or rumor everyone wanted scrubbed out.

I never saw that facilitator again, but I did learn she had been back a handful of times both during my tenure and well after for other workshops and sessions--I was just never invited to those events, apparently.

I think about this personal incident with some frequency.

Next month in June begins Pride. A full month in the year when the LGBTQIA+ and allied community come together to remember, learn, examine, and celebrate the freedom to be loud and queer and out. Pride is rooted in the arduous history of minority groups who have struggled for decades to overcome prejudice and be accepted for who they are.

I had always been an allied-oriented person in settings where I was the majority or the comfortable entity. But this incident changed my entire social DNA. I vowed to never allow someone else to feel the way I felt that day and for a long time after. I am a bi-racial, queer, neurodivergent cis man.

But more often than not, I just look like any typical white male.

And while I always and openly admit and accept that lived-life privilege, I promised myself I'd only actively weaponize it for the sake of supporting and advocating for others. As an underling, a peer, a superior, a manager, a leader, a follower, a curious student, a citizen, I'd always find ways to speak up and speak out and protect and defend and pass the microphone and open or close doors where needed or necessary.

And, as we head into next month? I'd ask the same of you.

No, I wasn't screamed at, or called the f-slur, or fired, or condemned for my undisclosed sexuality. But I was openly harassed and ignored and mistreated in the workplace. And every day in the workplace especially, people are still openly or publicly harassed or ignored or mistreated because of their sexual orientation, their gender identity, their race, their religion, disability, their mental health, their background, and more.

Don't look away. Don't let them sit or stand there in silence. Don't pretend it didn't happen. Don't focus on protecting the company or the accused.

Be present. Speak up and out. Stand next to them in solidarity. Represent your allyship powerfully and proudly. Be the change.

I wish someone had done that for me. And if you feel the same? Channel that into remembering to be that person for someone tomorrow.

Happy almost-Pride, and thank you for reading this and for giving it some thought and action where it might apply in your own life.

Ben