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In my undergrad I was the Editor in Chief of the literary magazine, which actually transcended not only to just students but to all people through the state of New Jersey and a lot of New York, so it was a really big deal. The Art Director was about 20 years my senior, and he would always invite me to his office to go over the layout—which makes sense, I never really felt that was a bizarre thing. But once the meetings started to be just between he and I, alone in his office, I felt it strange he would close the door and stare at me as he walked over to his desk. And at one point he moved from across from his desk to sitting right next to me—he just plopped the layout on the far left of his desk and casually placed his hand on my knee and quickly slid it up my thigh.
So I punched him in the nose as hard as I could. He started crying—I think instinctively, because when you get punched in the face you start to cry. And I told him if he ever tried anything like that again, I would castrate him and make sure he never worked ever again.
So then I went to the university and told them what happened, and they were sympathetic, but nothing ever happened to him as far as punishment. But I take solace knowing that me punching him in the face gave me some minor justice—because he had a black eye and he was absolutely terrified of me after that. It was very funny too because he was a tiny little short bald man…I just thought how stupid do you have to be to do something like that especially when you’re such a tiny little guy? He never got in trouble, maybe he did and I didn’t know what happened, but he never lost his job—he had tenure.
The interesting thing was, when I was a freshman, I befriended a lot of seniors, and one of them I knew even before I went to school. He was her graphic design professor and he did the same thing to her—he would have private meetings with her because she didn’t know anything about graphic design. It was an advanced class, but she just wanted to take it anyways, so she thought, ‘oh that’s so nice of him to help me out.’ And then one night he did the same thing, where he put his hand on her knee and then quickly slid it up her leg towards her crotch. She didn’t do anything, though, she said she just broke down in fear and just sat there. She eventually just sort of moved in her body language, and he could tell she was uncomfortable, so she stopped. But she never went to a private meeting with him again and never showed up for class again, but she still got an A even though she didn’t show up for two months or do the finals. It was like an unspoken agreement that she wouldn’t say anything. He still works there.
I’m just happy I got to punch a guy in the face. I think in life, especially as women, we just have to deal with really crappy situations—more than men do—in workplace situations. But sometimes your bosses, managers, HR, they won’t listen or care, so you really do have to take your own agency. And I’m the type of person who’s blessed enough where I’m never worried that if I leave a job I know I’ll be able to survive, so I’ll always say something in fighting against sexual harassment, but a lot of women don’t have that luxury of being able to fight against something—their whole lives would be destroyed and their families would be endangered. So I’m very fortunate in that way, and I acknowledge that.