Like many, the fall and winter of 2017 was jarringly marked for me by reading the seemingly continuous allegations of sexual assault and harassment filed against men in power. I noted the fluctuations of public opinion based on the circumstances of the event(s), the man accused, and how well the silence breaker fit the mold of “ideal victim.” In this opinion article, I consider how women’s sexual agency is socially constructed, and under what circumstances we as a society find it worthy of praise or contempt.

The Social Constructions of Sexual Harassment and Female Agency

On October 5, 2017, the New York Times reported multiple allegations from women, including actress Ashley Judd, accusing producer Harvey Weinstein of sexual harassment. These allegations proved cataclysmic, as over the next several months, a deluge of women and men came forward to name powerful men across entertainment, media, and politics as sexual predators. As what is now known as the #MeToo movement grew to viral proportions, so too did the concerns of its detractors: those who questioned its intent, its progression, its outcomes. In January 2018, the anonymous report of comedian Aziz Ansari’s sexual aggression during a date attracted markedly mixed responses, even among supporters of the movement. Some saw the allegations against Ansari as #MeToo “going too far” toward criminalizing sexual incompatibility.

This bifurcation of public opinion illuminates some central questions as both accusers and accused alike battle for power over #MeToo: Who deserves agency? Who deserves protection? These questions and their answers are not just relegated to online thinkpieces and contentious social media posts. Public policies and legislation are driven by group values, as policymakers and their constituents symbiotically determine between people in dominance and people in submission.

Who we love and who we hate

The Ingram-Schneider social construction framework—from Anne Schneider and Helen Ingram’s theory of social construction of target populations—categorizes social groups into quadrants based on both degrees of political power and relative merit. For example, small business owners are generally viewed as powerful and beneficial, while criminals lack both political capital and public favor. Schneider and Ingram posit that policy makers use this framework to legitimize their political decisions to their constituents, essentially reproducing public values.

Critical to this framework is that the identities of target populations are socially constructed, and as such they are mutable, changing over time. Schneider and Ingram cite the example of those living with HIV/AIDS, whose public identity experienced a 180-degree shift in public opinion in part by the inclusion of well-loved Magic Johnson. This shift in perception was literally life-saving: Due largely to changes in national attention, funding, and research priorities, HIV is no longer a death sentence, and advocacy still persists in destigmatizing the diagnosis.

What the #MeToo movement still grapples with is where its players sit within the framework. In the case of the perpetrators, it’s disorienting and alarming to see prominent, highly regarded figures face such dire accusations; in the case of the survivors, we as a society (tragically and infuriatingly) are still seeking clarity within blurred lines. This is the area in which the unnamed woman in the Aziz Ansari story resides: between experiencing nonconsensual advances and a bad date.

When we protect and when we blame

Beginning largely with the second wave, feminists have gradually sought increased sexual agency, through improved access to birth control, minimizing gendered expectations for premarital sexual activity, and normalizing the image of the working mother. And yet New York Times columnist Bari Weiss responded to the Ansari allegations with, “I am a proud feminist, and this is what I thought while reading the article: If you are hanging out naked with a man, it’s safe to assume he is going to try to have sex with you.” Weiss received both fierce backlash and encouragement for her statements, which reveals how conflicted we remain about the extent of female sexual agency.

When we conceptualize women as weak, threatened, or needing protection, the reception to female sexuality is often positive. Arguments for increased access to birth control are often “legitimized” by claims for medical necessities unrelated to non-procreative sex (a perspective shared even by the Catholic Church). In April 2018, Tennessee child advocacy groups were recently successful in passing legislation that alters the state-mandated abstinence-only curriculum to permit instruction on sexual activity related to the identification and prevention of child sexual abuse.

But when women’s sexual expression falls outside of these norms, the response is much harsher. Studying how public policy conforms to cultural understandings of motherhood, Bonnie Stabile found that “women forgoing motherhood, poor women, and women seeking to form nontraditional families were likely to be viewed negatively.” Victims of sexual assault, when they do see the inside of a court room, are routinely asked what they were wearing, how much they had been drinking, and how else they might have been “asking for it.” Paradoxically, when women are viewed as controlling their own sexual identity and behavior, they are also viewed as blameworthy.

Why it matters

When colleges and universities nationwide begin each year with training on enthusiastic consent only 25 years after marital rape became illegal in all 50 states, it can’t be said that progress toward women’s sexual agency is stagnate. But it’s also not enough. In a recent study out of the Peabody Research Institute, researcher Heather Hensman Kettrey found that female college students who prioritized their own pleasure and sexual agency were less likely to engage in undesired sexual activity. Seeking approbation by conforming to socially constructed gender expectations, then, may be detrimental to women’s sense of self.

Note the key focus of Hensman Kettrey’s research on undesired sexual activity rather than nonconsensual. In considering responses to the Aziz Ansari story, note the juxtaposition of those who prioritize the anonymous woman’s nonverbal cues and those who distinguish it from “real” sexual assault. In the social construction of sexually active women, we approve of those who give consent, who follow gender norms, who allow themselves to be protected. But outside of those carefully delineated roles remains a dangerous area for women seeking real sexual agency.