Aziz Ansari, Master of Manipulation, and the Media Backlash
If a man tried to push you into anything you didn’t want, even just a kiss, you told him flat out you weren’t doing it. If he kept going, you got away from him.
Anna Jankowski
“The story of Cassandra, the woman who told the truth but was not believed, is not nearly as embedded in our culture as that of the Boy Who Cried Wolf — that is, the boy who was believed the first few times he told the same lie. Perhaps it should be.” – “Cassandra Among the Creeps” by Rebecca Solnit, Harper’s Magazine, October 2014
(Photo cred: babe.net)
When I was about 15, a friend of mine told me about the time when she hung out with one of our classmates -we’ll call her S. – on a Sunday afternoon. Neither of us knew S. very well. I ended up bailing at the last minute because she made me uncomfortable, even though we were just supposed to go rollerskating. S. and my friend ended up at a guy’s, J., house. J. had a male friend with him. S. knew J. and went off with him into another room. My friend and his friend, complete strangers, were left alone. After some small talk had been exchanged, this guy shoved his tongue down my friend’s throat. He got on top of her and continued forcibly making out with her for about two hours. She could not speak. He stopped once to ask if she wanted to do anything else, to which she said no. It was her first kiss. Remarkably, she was able to say almost immediately after the fact, at that age, that she was sexually assaulted. I was only able to fully appreciate her clarity years later, long after we had gone our separate ways.
I have often wondered if this teenage boy, who was also around 15, knew that he was doing something wrong. I feel that it is completely possible that he believed that my friend was enjoying it as much as he was, especially considering that he asked her if she wanted to do anything else and respected her answer.
Of course, it was wrong of him to assume that she was simply brought to him exclusively for sexual activity, no matter how innocent kissing is and no matter his intentions. And therein lies the core issue at the center of one narrative of the latest Hollywood star accused of sexual assault/misconduct: Aziz Ansari (this piece is written assuming that you have already read the original article from babe.net in full). I say “one narrative” because I believe that there are two interpretations of the incident Grace (the pseudonym provided) described, one of which has garnered much traction and another that has not but that is both far more sinister and, in my opinion, far more likely.
Narrative One assumes that Ansari, like the fifteen-year-old boy, truly did not know that he was violating Grace. It believes wholeheartedly Ansari’s text to Grace the next day which says that “he misread things in the moment and is truly sorry.” His official statement is a step in the right direction; he did not call Grace crazy or flat out deny the encounter altogether. He made a mistake, as we all do. He cannot go back in time and undo the past, so this is good enough.
Admittedly and ashamedly, I fell into the trap of Narrative One. Ansari was one of my favorite comedians. Just eleven days ago I shared a clip from one of his stand up specials. I binge-watched Master of None as soon as it came out like any decent person with a Netflix subscription did. I rewatched some episodes of Parks & Rec with my family over the holidays. I was biased. I didn’t want to believe that the alternative was true.
Opinion pieces in “The New York Times”, “The Atlantic,” “The Washington Post,” as well as an open letter from Ashleigh Banfield on “Crime & Justice” also side with Narrative One to some extent, while questioning Grace’s actions. All of these (mostly female) authors feel that Grace is wrong, and more wrong than Ansari. Bari Weiss writes in her piece “Aziz Ansari Is Guilty. Of Not Being a Mind Reader” that she is a proud feminist. She then cherry-picks the original article on Babe and suggests that because Grace did not leave right away and just had bad sex, that she is actually making women weaker. Caitlin Flanagan makes a similar point in “The Humiliation of Aziz Ansari.” She writes of how back in her day:
If a man tried to push you into anything you didn’t want, even just a kiss, you told him flat out you weren’t doing it. If he kept going, you got away from him. You were always to have “mad money” with you: cab fare in case he got “fresh” and then refused to drive you home. They told you to slap him if you had to; they told you to get out of the car and start wailing if you had to. They told you to do whatever it took to stop him from using your body in any way you didn’t want, and under no circumstances to go down without a fight.
In response to this (hopefully I can capture the same condescending derision this writer used for her millennial readers), I can only say how fortunate it must have been for Flanagan and her peers that back in her day, men never beat women and they were never armed. (As Megan Garber writes, also for The Atlantic on the Ansari/Grace incident: “there is the threat, for one thing—always—of a sexual encounter escalating into violence.”)These weakass millennial women and their preoccupation with getting out of a situation alive. Not only are they ruining whole industries, now they’re unraveling all of the progress made by and for their entire gender!
Ashleigh Banfield’s open letter to Grace is four and a half minutes of basically saying that Grace is not a victim of anything. There are real victims, like those whom she interviews on her television show, and Grace isn’t one of them. While it is true that Ansari did not rape her (more on that later), he still acted “gross” in Banfield’s own words. Banfield even goes so far as to say that if he was gross, Grace should tell her friends to stay away from him but that going to the press was “the worst possible thing” Grace could have done. Was going to the press not the equivalent of warning all women that Ansari is gross? Does his penis have to enter her vagina for it to be a true violation? Legally, it does, but does the type of sex Ansari coerced Grace into make the encounter that much better, if at all?
Even in Garber’s piece, “Aziz Ansari and the Paradox of No” which seems to stand in direct contradiction to Flanagan’s piece, still aligns more so with Narrative One. “Both parties involved in the encounter seem earnestly confused about what was understood between them, and what was not.” I am not so convinced.
If it is not clear by now, there are obvious holes in Narrative One. Contrary to what some writers would like you to believe, Grace did explicitly ask to stop and also physically moved away from Ansari, who seemingly agreed at first before pressuring her into more sexual activity. Ansari is also not a fifteen-year-old boy who knows nothing about sex or relationships.
“He’s a 34-year-old actor and comedian of global renown who’s probably done more thinking about the nuances of dating and sex in the digital age than practically anyone else. He wrote a book about it, “Modern Romance”, and it was a New York Times bestseller.” (babe.net)
Furthermore, even if we are to believe that Ansari had no inkling that Grace was not fully consenting, we still arrive at a huge problem. I will be the first to admit that I find discussing consent extremely difficult. I can easily lead a workshop on STDs, distinguishing between strains of herpes and discussing the rise of antibiotic-resistant gonorrhea (yes, it’s a real thing and you can learn about it here), but consent is murky at times. It has to be continuous and can be taken back at any time. It can’t be coerced. It also can’t be proven or disproven. It requires communication, both verbal and physical.
As much as I think it’s important to break down complex ideas for learning purposes, I am concerned that there is danger in oversimplifying something as nuanced as consent. Much of the dialogue around consent focuses on “verbal, enthusiastic consent.” This means that someone must agree aloud to any sexual activity with enthusiasm, so as to show that they are not feeling pressured.
One of my students seemed skeptical. He said “you know when you’ve been with someone for a while and you get into a rhythm, you already know what they like and don’t like.” Of course I knew what he meant; I imagine that nearly everyone who has been in a healthy, long-term sexual relationship does. Pulling someone closer, embracing them, caressing them – these can all be pieces of consent. I tried to explain that it doesn’t have to be like signing a contract or scheduling an appointment. It can be as simple as checking in with your partner. And while I want my students to think long and hard about their sexual relationships, I also don’t want to vilify them for having perfectly consensual sex because they consent to it differently than the way a curriculum mandates.
Author and feminist critic Jessica Valenti wrote about the incident on Twitter (see photo). Valenti is correct and I am eternally grateful to Grace for detailing this encounter, not only to expose Ansari, but also because it is an incredibly teachable moment concerning consent. If you do happen to think what the Babe article describes is a normal or ideal sexual encounter, you need to re-evaluate your sex life.
This brings me to Narrative Two. This is the true opposite of Narrative One. It states that Ansari – like Harvey Weinstein, Louis CK, Bill Cosby, Matt Lauer, Roy Moore, Al Franken, Clarence Thomas, and all the rest – knew exactly what he was doing. He was predatory and did not think he would get caught. His stand-up act about catcalling or television plotlines about sexual harassment in the workplace do not absolve him. In fact, they work to intimidate Grace more. Ansari deliberately ignored Grace’s many explicit requests to “relax” and pursued her when she physically moved away from him.
The most damning evidence supporting this theory is when Grace came out of the bathroom and said “I don’t want to feel forced because then I’ll hate you, and I’d rather not hate you.” If Ansari really had not known that something was wrong, he would have been shocked to hear something like that. Any normal person would be stunned and have a discussion then and there. A good response would be something like “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were feeling this way. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” You don’t need to have heard the phrase “enthusiastic consent” to know that. Ansari backs off briefly but then motions for her to perform oral sex on him, kisses her, and says “doesn’t look like you hate me.”
As Ashleigh Banfield pointed out, this encounter “did not send [Grace] to the police. It did not affect [her] workplace or [her] ability to get a job.” This is true, and he seemed to be keenly aware of how to confuse Grace and that his transgressions operated in a legal grey area with a slim chance of him facing repercussions. (She was not someone he knew professionally, so there was no human resources department to report him to.) One minute, he agrees to take it slow and chill. The next, his fingers are down her throat. He orders her an Uber so she can get home safe, then he forcefully kisses her goodbye.
Perhaps there is no better illustration of this than when Ansari bent Grace over in front of a large mirror and “rammed his penis against her ass…pantomiming intercourse.” This is a perverse version of what kids do to irritate each other; hovering a pointed finger centimeters away from another kid’s face while declaring “I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you!” But Ansari’s actions had nothing to do with irritating Grace; he wanted to overpower her. Ramming his penis against her ass while asking “where do you want me to fuck you?” was like saying “I’m not raping you! I’m not raping you!” with the implication that because it wasn’t rape, nothing actually happened. There’s one thing Ansari is not; stupid. He expertly danced just shy of committing a crime in a way that only the most skilled manipulators could – and much of the self-proclaimed liberal, feminist press that leads the #resistance, has taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker. Plus, he would never sexually assault someone because he’s a feminist. It seemed consensual to him anyway and his version of events carries more weight because he is male and rational while Grace is female and hysterical (he would likely know of this stereotype as a feminist). Another possible implication; I could rape you, but I will not because I’m such a nice guy.
Ah yes, the nice guy who wore the “Times Up!” pin to the Golden Globes. The “certified woke bae” who we all rooted for. This is yet another teachable moment that I would like to explain to the commentators I mentioned above who so condescendingly ruled from on high that Ansari did nothing wrong and that Grace embodies everything that is wrong with women today. Just because someone professes certain things doesn’t mean that they aren’t vile behind closed doors. As inconvenient as it may be to accept, people of all races, genders, and political beliefs can be toxic. Since many of these commentators felt it necessary to talk about their “bad dates” and “bad sex,” let me talk to them about gaslighting and manipulation.
When structures like fame, power, and wealth reinforce gaslighting, I think of it as extreme, systemic gaslighting. This is the crux of Narrative Two: not only did Ansari know what he was doing and and he gaslighted Grace by saying one thing (“‘how about we just chill, but this time with our clothes on?’”) and doing another (“he kissed her again, stuck his fingers down her throat again, and moved to undo her pants”). Furthermore, his reputation as a progressive/feminist/liberal/nice guy worked as another level of gaslighting. He may be the last person whom Grace or any of us expected to behave in this way, which added to her shock and decreased the credibility of her account. Using these powerful platforms to fixate on wine preferences and to accuse this young woman of being weak only amplifies this extreme gaslighting phenomenon. No wonder so many people do not want to call themselves feminists.
So what happens now? Aside from never looking at Tom Haverford the same way again, what do we do so that other fifteen-year-old boys don’t view women as theirs for sex or grow up to be predatory scum? How do we discuss consent realistically and how do we decipher who will be good to us and who will harm us?
I will start by using Grace’s account in the classroom as a discussion topic. I plan to ask my students where they think Ansari went wrong and what would have been better to do. I foresee this being a much better gauge of what my students think of consent than the phrase “verbal and enthusiastic” as it provides concrete, verbal and nonverbal examples. Again, I cannot express my gratitude to Grace enough for sharing this.
As I reflect on all of this, I cannot help but think of one of my favorite books, “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov. At the end of the Part One, Lolita’s mother and Humbert Humbert’s new wife has died. The maleficent stepfather opts to “care for” Lolita. Finishing out Part One, Humbert Humbert writes: “you see, she had nowhere else to go.” I would argue that we still live in a society largely where women and especially young girls still have nowhere else to go, except maybe the press, with very mixed results.
Let me be clear; I do not mean to imply that Ansari is equivalent to a pedophile. However, whether you ascribe to Narrative One or Narrative Two, we can likely all agree that these kinds of encounters should occur less and less. For me, the most troubling piece of this whole incident is not the events that took place or even Ansari himself. What I find most concerning is the number of people – from esteemed writers to internet trolls – who view this as perhaps bad, but overall normal and acceptable sex. The implications of this are far greater than any viral article or single person’s career.
Nabokov concludes “The Forward” to “Lolita” with words that I have taken to heart in light of the media backlash against Grace and the larger discussion around abuse and consent. This “should make all of us—parents, social workers, educators—apply ourselves with still greater vigilance and vision to the task of bringing up a better generation in a safer world.”
