And more on Maynard and Salinger
There is ambivalence at the heart of this issue. You will sometimes hear feminists defend a young woman who strikes up a relationship with a powerful or wealthy older man. She is empowered. She is asserting her individuality and independence in making unpopular choices. She is in control of her sexuality and able to make intelligent choices based on the options available to her. So if she inherits all the property, we hear nothing about abuse or exploitive relationships. At least, not from her side.
Some will argue that you can’t have it both ways: how can a woman say she is
fully in charge of her body and her destiny, and then call herself a victim
when, having given a man her heart of her own volition, he crushes it? How
can a consensual relationship, as Salinger’s unquestionably were, constitute
a form of abuse?
But we are talking about what happens when people in positions of power —
mentors, priests, employers or simply those assigned an elevated status —
use their power to lure much younger people into sexual and (in the case of
Salinger) emotional relationships. Most typically, those who do this are
men. And when they are done with the person they’ve drawn toward them, it
can take that person years or decades to recover. Joyce Maynard, J.
D. Salinger's former girlfriend, in the New York Times, September 15, 2013.
Exactly. How do you get to slime someone for not finding you lovable anymore? How do you get to label as an abuser the man you were attracted to because of his influence and fame and importance, as if you had no expectation of anything except his loyalty?
How do you get to destroy someone for taking advantage of your credulousness? I am woman. Hear me roar. See me standing toe-to-toe with men and holding my own, for I am smart and independent and capable of making my own decisions and taking responsibilities for my own actions, except when I want you to think of me as a victim, something I am so ashamed of I will appear on talk shows to discuss.
Except when you don't love me any more. Suddenly, you are a bully, and I am the schoolyard wimp. And you weren't very nice to me. And your rudeness and meanness shall have a label and it shall be called "abuse" and you must be held responsible.
Let us not speak about a young writer flattered and intoxicated with the idea that a relationship with a famous author would advance her own career-- that's not part of the narrative we need to construct here.
And let's not consider a woman who develops such a relationship with a man and then leaves him devastated, so that "it can take decades to recover". In Maynard's universe, it's only the woman who has anything to recover when a relationship goes sour.
Because I am loveable. I am adorable. I worshipped you and brought you meals and you saw me naked and I indulged some of your dark fantasies and I pretended to be willing because you really loved me but you didn't. I tried to interest you in my ideas, my talent-- I really am a very, very talented person!-- and you were bored and annoyed and now I can tell you that I knew, in my deepest heart, that you were jealous, oh yes you were, you felt threatened by my gifts because they were really as good or even greater than yours, and that's why you rejected me and told me to leave.
Look at me now, on the talk shows, on the booklists, being interviewed, and sometimes they even ask me about my own work and not just about you, or what you are really like, or what you really think.