A long-read article was published online in The Cut this week that received justifiable backlash.
New York magazine – which publishes The Cut – made the piece their cover story. It read: ‘Canceled at 17: when kids make mistakes and classmates never forget’.
It is the story of a 17-year-old boy called Diego, who was shunned by his classmates after he showed an explicit and private image of his girlfriend to a few other kids without her consent.
He lost most of his friends, had a rough time at school and was added to a list written on the bathroom stalls, reading ‘people to look out for’.
The illustration that accompanied the article was a cartoon drawing of a clown, sitting on a skateboard with his head in his hands.
I couldn’t help but think that the editor might already be telling me they wanted my sympathy to lie with the silly little clown boy who made a mistake.
Let’s get one thing straight – we may be living in a post-#metoo era, but that doesn’t mean that the #metoo era is over; it simply means we are living in a time after it began. We are living in a world where it continues to exist because sexism, sexual harassment and abuse also continue to exist.
The day the #metoo era ends will be the day misogyny and sexual exploitation evaporate from society, and that is unlikely to be any day soon.
Why then, do certain writers feel the need to write pieces that centre the perpetrator of a sexually exploitative crime, instead of coming from the perspective of the victim?
It was nice – for once – to hear that the guy who did the bad thing, rather than the girl who did nothing, was the one who suffered the consequences
Take Diego’s story, for example. He did something that was not OK, he got called out for it and – as a result of people finding out about his behaviour – they shunned him. Sharing a sexual image of another person without their consent is undeniably immoral. If they are underage, it is illegal.
As I see it, his social out-casting is teenage society operating rather successfully.
For years, victims of sexual exploitation have been the ones who have been bullied, abused and degraded by their peers at school. Girls whose private photos have been shared between classes and year groups have felt no option but to move schools in order to escape the shame placed upon them by students, faculty and parents.
It was nice – for once – to hear that the guy who did the bad thing, rather than the girl who did nothing, was the one who suffered the consequences.
But that wasn’t how the author saw it. No, she wrote Diego’s story as if it were his own personal romantic tragedy.
‘Twenty months after he developed a crush, 18 months after he’d fallen in love, Diego, who is enormously appealing but also very canceled boarded the bus’, the journalist wrote. Enormously appealing? Is that really the most objective way one could write a story that aims to consider the perspective of a teen who f****d up and faced the music?
The writer paints Diego as the saddest of softbois, and even includes the lyrics of his self-penned songs about the incident.
Does she include the diary entries of the girl whose naked body he showed to his pals? Of course not; what happened to her doesn’t matter nearly as much as what happened to the boy who met the consequences of his own actions.
The piece is, on-the-whole, a giant sympathy fest for Diego who, by the way, was also shunned by his own sister – which leads me to believe that perhaps this guy is just a bit of a p***k anyway.
If you must give Diego’s perspective, I would swerve using descriptions such as ‘this nightmare began sweetly’ for Diego
I do, however, think there is some value in addressing the way in which schools deal with pupils who are accused of sexual misconduct. Should we be dedicating a long-read to the boys who commit these acts – of course not.
The system by which schools deal with sexual misconduct is broken, but it is the girls who call out this behaviour – not the accused – who are the primary victims of the broken system.
If the school had properly dealt with accusations of abuse, then perhaps the girls wouldn’t have felt the need to take matters into their own hands and publish a watch list on the bathroom stalls.
There is often a misconception among observers that women and girls who make public announcements about abusive behaviour have decided to do so as the first port of call. I can tell you from experience, it is a last resort.
Naming abusers always comes with a huge risk for accusers. Many may face counter accusations of being a liar, crazy, vengeful or attention-seeking, so the choice to come forward publicly cannot be taken lightly.
The situation at Diego’s school escalated when several boys’ names were added to a list and accusations and rumours of rape spread around the school. This is certainly a serious story worth covering – but it should not be a story told from the perspective of Diego. Tell it from the perspective of the girl whose photo he shared.
Tell the story of how a deeply personal and traumatic incident then became a starting point for something that went beyond her control. Ask how she felt about the failure of her school to deal with an incident in an effective manner, giving her and her fellow schoolgirls no choice but to take justice into their own hands.
And if you must give Diego’s perspective, I would swerve using descriptions such as ‘this nightmare began sweetly’ for Diego.
The nightmare was his ex-girlfriend’s, not his.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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