Not long ago, my daughter-in-law, sister, cousin and I were waiting for a table in a family-style restaurant, close to the exit. A middle-aged man had been eyeing my daughter-in-law. On his way out, he paused as he passed us, and said to her, “With all due respect, you are very attractive.” Feeling both protective and offended, I said to him, “That is wholly inappropriate, sir.”
My cousin snapped at me that it was only a compliment. My sister got mad at me for upsetting my cousin. My daughter-in-law appreciated my reaction but said that she has had “way creepier men say way creepier things to her.” I responded to them all that a stranger has no business commenting on the looks of a person, good or bad, and that this man would never have said a word if any man had been standing with us. Who is right? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
In our society, it was once thought gallant for men to remark on the appearance of women they found attractive. That custom reflected sexist ideas about the relations between women and men. It presupposed, for example, that women should care about whether male strangers, in whom they have displayed no interest, found them attractive, and be pleased when they did.
There are obviously social contexts in which flirtation is generally considered appropriate — e.g., at a singles bar or a college “mixer,” to stick to the meat-space world. But in ordinary settings? It’s now widely understood that expressions of sexual interest are something you work up to only if the other party has given you reason to suppose that they might be appreciated. In such settings, invoking someone’s attractiveness, as an opening remark to a complete stranger, is discourteous and wrong.
The middle-aged fellow of your story evidently had some awareness of this. We typically say “with all due respect” in contexts where what we are saying would otherwise be presumed to be disrespectful. Your telling him off created a moment of embarrassment for him that might lead him to reflect on whether he ought to do this sort of thing again. If what you said embarrassed your cousin too, this may be because she still inhabits the world in which such remarks are considered a gift, not an imposition. And though your daughter-in-law responded gamely to the incident, she was setting a low bar with her reference to the “creepier things” she’d heard. The way to reduce such remarks is to make it clear when they’re unwelcome.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from an anxious teenager. She wrote: “I’m a high school senior. As a good student with strong extracurriculars, I’m applying to a few of what are considered top colleges. My dream school is one of them, and the major I intend to pursue is very competitive; choosing it might make it more difficult to get in. I have considered applying instead as a linguistics major, because I have a stronger background in that field, especially with the extracurriculars I have pursued. I do love linguistics (I founded the Linguistics Club at my school), but it is not my passion, and if I got in somewhere for linguistics, I would switch to something else. This strategy is very common, as far as I know; most people I know who got into extremely selective colleges last year chose a less competitive arts or humanities major as either their primary or secondary interest. I am quite certain that some of them don’t actually want to pursue those fields. … isn’t there something wrong with a college-admissions process that rewards students who know exactly what they want to do from the beginning of high school and punishes those who are honest about a change in their interests? What do I owe such a flawed process, and what do I owe other applicants?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “Admissions is indeed a flawed process — but maybe not so flawed as you fear in the respects that concern you. First, though you write of applying “as a linguistics major,” the sort of colleges to which you’re applying anticipate that your interests may change. You think you know now what you’ll major in. But lots of students change their majors, many more than once. In fact, a great virtue of an American liberal education is that it allows you to make decisions about your academic focus after you’ve had a wider exposure to a range of fields. Don’t treat declaring a major as a commitment; the college won’t. … The basic question here isn’t so much what you owe the process or your fellow applicants; it’s what you owe yourself. … The honest thing to do is to report your strengths in linguistics and to be candid about your current interests, while acknowledging that you may change your mind later. … You’re hearing from someone who went to university to study medicine and ended up writing a dissertation in semantics. One critical thing we can learn in higher education is what it is we most want to learn.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
⬥
As a college advisor, I see many students agonize over this question. The college-admissions process is all about creating a coherent narrative. So the way in which students frame their curiosities and potential areas of study, not only to those reading applications in the admissions office but also to themselves, helps shape the answer. What they want to study — what matters to them — is exactly the question that college itself will further clarify. — Lindsay
⬥
The response, particularly the coda about the Ethicist’s own shift away from medicine to semantics, was spot-on to the point of being superb. — Daniel
⬥
I agree with the Ethicist’s response: It is not a good idea to start a relationship with either a person or an institution feeling that you are being dishonest. With that in mind, it is also wise to recognize that many universities provide incoming students with scholarships based on their declared major. Students who earn awards from specific academic programs lose the awards if they change majors. I agree that mentioning your interest and skill in several areas is both wise and honest. — Shawn
⬥
I’m a senior administrator at a highly selective university. We absolutely do have enrollment caps for the various colleges: Computer science has a cap; humanities (where linguistics lives) has a cap. “Back dooring” is a common (and cynical) practice and is very frustrating to those of us in charge of building classes in which carefully distributed numbers do matter (the performing arts, for example). So yes, the letter writer is probably taking a spot from someone who sincerely wants to pursue linguistics. — Mary Ellen
⬥
I generally agree with the Ethicist. I work at an elite public university. I am not in admissions, but I see how it works and know a lot about it. After years of admissions data, we can pretty accurately estimate how many people are going to switch majors after acceptance and build that into our numbers. By doing what you contemplate you will be doing exactly what we expect and account for. The admissions process is difficult and flawed. I suggest you do whatever you think will maximize your chances of being successful however you define it. Applying for a major that may not be your first choice is not a lie. It is a strategy. — Alan
⬥
The Ethicist’s response should point us to a fatal flaw in our current culture — the insistence that young people adopt an “identity” early in life. They are then encouraged to stick themselves in that identity slot with the inability to move on. At the age of 78, I can attest to adopting many identities. I entered college as a bilingual secretarial major (yes, there was such a thing), and now have a Ph.D. in the humanities. Give yourself a break. Try to get into the college of your choice and enjoy learning about yourself and the world. Allow yourself to change. — Katherine
The post Was I Right to Chide the Man Who Complimented My Daughter-in-Law? appeared first on New York Times.
