Outraged by the harassment scandal involving American producer Harvey Weinstein, Lilla Sárosdi (my wife) decided to come forward with her own, 20 year-old, instance. Although I knew the story already I had never encouraged her to make it public, knowing it would place an extraordinary strain on her, and also because there was no way to prove what she had actually gone through. I have never doubted that what she finally wrote down of her own determination really happened to her. She felt that in this situation we must be made aware that indeed what happens in Hollywood happens regularly in Hungary too. The greats of the art world regularly abuse their power. Of course not everyone employs the tool of intimidation, but that doesn’t mean we should prostrate ourselves before those who behave normally. In the course of work in theatre and film actresses, even actors, often get into situations of defencelessness.

Acting is a remarkably dangerous profession, since artists subordinating almost everything to their vocation regularly slip into the skin of figures who are humiliated, crippled, and in extreme cases killed in the course of their story. During the work various methods can be used to achieve desired outcomes and credibility that dumbfounds spectators. A common method involves the humiliation of actors, in the course of which the director – in an appalling tone of voice, or derisiveness driving to the core of a personality – extracts from the delinquent the truth of the performed character, which thus becomes the private individual’s real suffering. A common case involves the humiliation of actors during film casting, examining by this process too how much the person in question can take, whether they are capable of the most authentic reaction, the naturalism necessary for the camera. Also known moreover is the practice of producers, theatre managers, directors, established fellow actors, and any other artist with power coercing or leading those defenceless before them who are hankering a role or membership in a company – chiefly young actresses, female dancers, but also actors and male dancers – into sexual ‘favours’, ‘kind reciprocation’. (After graduating from the University of Theatre and Film Art I was invited by several theatre managers to become an in-house director. One of them tried to convince me to sign the contract by pointing at the newly-purchased resting beds in his recently renovated theatre and saying: ‘The beds – you’ll be able to fuck the actresses here.’) The misled and bewildered youths, striving to satisfy, most often become victims of sexual harassment without even knowing it: they have no idea that what’s happening to them is absolutely not okay.

This is what Lilla Sárosdi had had enough of when she came forward with her story. She’d been silent for 20 years because for a time she herself did not understand what happened to her; she blamed herself; she was ashamed of what she had taken part in; and later dissuaded herself with the thought that she wouldn’t be taken seriously anyways, and she would lose again. Now, however, she decided that she felt strong enough to ignore the consequences. She wanted to unmask not the perpetrator but the phenomenon itself. She wanted us to know what happens behind the scenes, and with her actions to give strength to fellow victims, past or current. With her brave act she calls on us to act: if we dare to come forward, if we dare to speak up, then perhaps there will be more people who do not tolerate humiliation. Lilla’s goal is that no-one be ashamed of themselves when they say no to someone famous, when that person assails their victim suddenly, without any request or response beforehand. It’s possible to say no even when the person in question hits on their target kindly, when they don’t point immediately to the ‘casting couch’.

After the statement went out the comments appeared too. One part of these is commending, empathetic, and supportive; but there are also (many) which are uncomprehending, accusative, and demand names. This section is primarily for those who do not understand this situation. I take up common reactions, and try to respond to them intelligently and calmly.

• Why now?
  A common consequence of abuse cases is that victims blame themselves. They believe they caused the situation, even that they were the ones who could not ‘sufficiently satisfy’ the violator. They feel strange, because on the one hand they see themselves as an old rag, which anyone could have, just like that; and on the other think they aren’t even good for a rag, because the thing the other person wanted didn’t happen: it wasn’t good. This is a terrible psychological pressure, in which making the incident public is the last thing on the victim’s mind. They don’t dare make an accusation because they’re convinced it’s the widely-respected person who will be believed, not them. Since Hungarian laws do not help the victim, it seems better to repress the suffering, whose consequence is a heap of mental and physical injuries. Not then because a young girl is totally vulnerable. Today, with more experience, in a secure family, strengthened enough, she stands bravely before the public.

• Why doesn’t she give a name?
  She doesn’t give a name because the case is unprovable. Since she was the only witness, the perpetrator simply denies the whole thing. In a case like this it’s impossible to win in a legal sense. If she gives his name, she simply exposes herself again, since the perpetrator will stand up and disparage her before the public, accusing her of careerism, exhibitionism, and everything else. Lilla was prepared to assume her own name and face. Her intention was not to retroactively ensure the rapist is duly punished, but to spur others to also speak out. The more people dare to step forward (without names), the greater the likelihood of avoiding similar cases. And who knows – if someday enough victims are assembled, then certainly the perpetrator can be named. For the moment it’s still the case that all the victims are in hiding! We’re still at the very beginning of this story. Let’s not forget that in the USA too it took the cooperation of a score of victims to put an end to a sick-minded person’s destructiveness.

• Why did she even get into that car?
  Let me recall a personal story from my youth. As a 14 year-old I was member of a rural sport club. One day our coach decided to take our whole team, a pack of teenage boys, to the city, Budapest, to try the steam baths and saunas there. We went to one of the most frequented public baths. Before entering the baths we had to shower. The others had gone ahead, I was left last. In the cubicle opposite me an entirely naked man of around fifty was washing himself. I was just about to leave when he looked at me and said: would you scrub my back? I was indescribably uncomfortable; I’d never encountered a situation like that. Previously older men had never asked me of anything similar, but my father had on occasion asked me to scratch his back, because he couldn’t reach it and it irritated him greatly. I’d been raised to think that elders are usually right; better to obey than to weigh things up. (Naturally this wasn’t the situation they had in mind, but obedience is like that.) I stepped over to the man and began washing his back. The coach realised that I hadn’t caught up with the others, so he came back to the shower room. When he saw was what was happening he ordered me out of the showers instantly, for which I was very grateful, because I had realised at least that something was wrong: I felt awful. I don’t know what happened after that in the shower, but I know that the coach joined us a few minutes later looking troubled. As he couldn’t find a way to process the case in himself either, the solution he found was to say to the others: I go into the showers, and he’s there scrubbing an old fag’s back. The others had a good laugh and started calling me queer. I stood there totally ashamed – told everyone to go to hell – but that didn’t help. For years as a teenager I retained the feeling of indeed being a contemptible faggot. Naturally I understand the situation now, I understand that pedophilia is not equivalent to homosexuality, and that homosexuality is not an illness: you don’t have to fear it. I know too that I’m not gay, but that if I were that wouldn’t bother me either. My case sheds light on how easily young people (girls, or boys) are influenced. When they get into a car with someone famous, the consequences of the act don’t even occur to them. They don’t reckon with what they don’t know. The exploitation of ignorance, the humiliation of ignorants, is a sin: those who know what they are doing are no longer innocent, and intentionally abuse another’s goodwill. And in fact getting into a car does not at all presuppose my thinking that in five minutes I’ll have to stare at a male member. Today Lilla would not get into that car, and if she were shown a male member she has nothing to do with, she would simply break it off at the base. Without hesitation, I think!

Naturally nothing I’ve written can only happen to women. A woman too can abuse her power. A woman can harass. Harassment doesn’t always mean concrete physical violence; psychological humiliation too drives deep and its wounds take a long time to heal. But it’s also certain that in a society in which women are not typically those in possession of power, the perpetrators of abuses too are typically men. Where the director, the theatre manager, the producer, the choreographer (the politicians, the hospital director, the headmaster, the CEO etc.) are male, there indeed the perpetrator is too. Power is a delicate beast, which in an aggressive, violent culture cannot be other than violent. In this primitive cultural sphere we are frequently unaware of harassment because we consider it quite natural, and in the overwhelming majority of cases blame the victim: why did she flirt, why did she expose herself, why did she wear a short dress, why is her rack big. (Isn’t it strange how important protecting women from savages is to us when we speak of immigrants, but when white men are the perpetrators we find an explanation for the unacceptable straight away?)

I’ve often said it and written it down, but I’m not loath to repeat it: I am ashamed about all that fellow men have perpetrated in the past and the present. I am maximally opposed to the abuse of power, whether to a woman, to a child, to anyone. The other day a kind waiter asked me in Sweden where I am from. I told him I’m Hungarian. He looked me in the eye and said that he arrived to Sweden from Syria by way of Hungary. We looked into each others’ eyes at length, then I took his arm and said to him: I ask your forgiveness. He said it’s unnecessary. I said I have to, otherwise I can’t live. What happened to you is my life too.

To understand the situation it is of course not enough to lambast men. The role of men has changed considerably. Often even the perpetrator doesn’t suspect, or least suspects, what frustrations lead up to sexual harassment. I don’t write this in the interest of a possible absolution. I mean only to indicate that, like all human stories, this one isn’t black and white. But to reach the deeper truth, we must brace ourselves to be able to say no. Power is not strength. Celebrity is not knowledge. Respect is not eternal.

So it’s never too late to regret and change. It’s not necessary to humiliate the weak, it’s not necessary to abuse power, it’s not necessary to use the casting couch in casting: let talent be our only criterion. What else can we do? We can be supportive, we can state that we empathise with every victim, and we can declare that we are not like that, we do not use abuse to get results, we can command our instincts to stop, we are capable of acting in a mature, adult way; we do not find it amusing, cool, or necessary to lord over the weak. The place of the casting couch is the museum; better yet let’s simply chop it up and burn it. Thanks for your support, in the name of all former and potential victims!!!

Árpád Schilling