In 2018, I was sexually harassed by a colleague. I repeatedly asked him to refrain from doing so to no result.
Seeking an appointment with the Managing Director, I brought to her attention the inappropriateness. She assured me that suitable measures would be taken, and I walked out feeling secure.
Two weeks later, I was informed that my contract would not be renewed due to budget cuts, which informally translated into “We do not like troublemakers.”
I was outraged, humiliated, and upset. I had done nothing wrong! Why was I being punished? My honor was besmirched. I demanded satisfaction!
Had it been the 18th century, a duel would have been fought for my honor. My husband did offer to deliver a particular brand of justice, and I declined for obvious reasons.
So, I sought answers.
Oxford Dictionary defines honor as the quality of doing what is morally right. Fair enough, but Brutus thought himself honorable when he assassinated Caesar for the good of the Republic. And just a few days later, Mark Anthony made a mockery of that honor.
I thought, is honor subjective? Does it adapt contextually and culturally?
In my country, there is a saying, “I shall break, but I will not bend.” It’s an honorable sentiment for sure, but to what end? Is honor limited to dying (literally), figuratively, metaphorically, or socially, for your cause?
Or is there honor in living to fight another day? Losing the battle to win the war?
Better people than I have debated honor. I am not a philosopher, nor a historian, or a theologist. I am a regular person living in an unfortunately non-idealistic world. I believe that honor should not be extreme or damaging in any form.
The Samurai ethical code of Bushido speaks of chivalry and honor unto death. It’s absolute. Although with one notable exception – the WWII surrender.
Emperor Hirohito broke Imperial protocol to address the people of Japan, asking them to surrender and be devoted to maintaining and protecting the future.
This exception was the key. I asked myself again, what would satisfy my honor? Fighting to get justice or preserving my reputation?
Finally, I had my answer. The incident was not egregious enough to warrant police action, and litigation would have been frivolous. So, I chose to walk away. I chose my reputational safety over ruin.
Fighting would have cleansed my experience, but walking away safeguarded my future.
However, my capitulation did not end the fight. Since then, I have used my profession to help women in similar or worse circumstances, to educate people on the perils of such behavior, and to help create awareness.
I chose a future, my future, and my honor is satisfied.