Debby Roe's Story Is Many Women's Pain Too

Glanced at the title that flew by as I was scanning the magazine. Bookmarked the story and returned to read Mary Gaitskill's 'Minority Report' published in The New Yorker on March 20, 2023. This is a follow-up story to the author's short stories collection 'Bad Behavior' (1988), written 35 years ago. A companion piece. Wow. 

Do you remember the film 'Secretary' (2002) starring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader, directed by Steven Shainberg? The film describes a dominant-submissive BDSM relationship? The screenplay by Erin Cressida Wilson is adapted from 'Bad Behavior'. 

In an interview with the magazine's Deborah Treisman, Mary Gaitskill explained why she didn't just write this new short story as a sequel, but also retold the earlier story before following the protagonist Debby for the next 30 years.

Your story “Minority Report” returns to an older story of yours, “Secretary,” which was first published in 1988. Rather than writing a straightforward sequel, you retell the earlier story, and then follow the main character, Debby, through the next three and a half decades of her life. What made you want to go back to “Secretary,” and how did you settle on this form of retelling and extending?

The story came out of a conversation I had with some people who wanted to make “Secretary” into a play; a number of different ideas for an ending were discussed, and, to me, the best one was a final encounter or confrontation between the man and the woman. The other people weren’t so into that idea—they wanted it to be all about Debby, and, anyway, what could happen in that confrontation? I couldn’t answer that question in the moment, but I decided to write a story and see how it evolved.

I felt that I had to start at the beginning—that is, with the events of “Secretary”—in order to fully situate the reader in Debby’s experience; it would not be the same if she were just summarizing it as a much older person. I wanted the reader to inhabit her naïve and innocent perception, her very modest hopefulness, and her acceptance of the limitations of her environment. I think those things are crucial to what happens and to how she develops. I also wanted the shock and arousal of what happens to be fully felt. I didn’t think I could get that effect if I told it in flashback.

Protagonist Debby Roe doesn't belong to the majority or hold similar opinions with other people. Her experiences are uniquely her own. She doesn't disagree with them, but she doesn't share their experiences. Her sexuality and its complex awakening shaped her life forever. If I said Ned Johnson's abuse scarred her forever, she definitely didn't think of it that way. She decided that her experiences with him defined what she wanted as her sexual satisfaction.

Years later, after she left this job, her ex boss ran for public office. I guess word got around about him sexually abusing his staff because once he stepped into the limelight, it was open warfare. Reporters dug up his history, and reporters got her contact and called her for comments, and for anything that might blow up into a story. Nobody said anything, and old boss Ned Johnson won the elections and became the mayor of Westland.

Debby never quite found anyone who shared her BDSM sexual inclinations. Her partners didn't quite last. She never found anyone whom she could fully 'love' or 'want'. Decades later, the revelations about Harvey Weinstein came out, along with #MeToo. 

At first, I felt sullen about it. I didn’t even know why. It just felt like these girls were complainers. Like they wanted to let everybody know how desirable they were, how men were always trying to kiss them or touch them or fuck them. Because, if men want you like that, it means you have value. One night I woke up and thought, If he’d raped me I could’ve told people and they would respect it, or at least pretend to. Because rape you can at least understand. But he didn’t rape me. He wasn’t interested. He said so. I was too worthless even for that. If I’d reported it, I would’ve been reporting my lack of worth.

I sat up and put my hands on my chest, quieting the pain. Except it wasn’t pain—it was anger. I thought, He did this to me. It seemed outrageously simple, so simple that I was astonished I hadn’t thought of it before, so simple that my mind veered away from it. I thought, I don’t want to give him that much power. Then I thought, But it wasn’t me who gave it.

In the morning, the anger, like the pain, was far away and vague.

Secretly, I came over to the side of the women who didn’t want to accept or tolerate any more. But it was too late for me, and not just because of being old. The thing was inside me and I couldn’t make it go away without making myself go away. 

Ned Johnson kinda disappeared from public office. There were failed runs for state senator. He returned to his old law offices to practice. Debby finally found the courage to google him, and then to meet him. He had plagued her dreams and her life for decades. She had to put an end to it. She scored an appointment and went to meet Ned Johnson at this office that she worked at decades ago. She met with him.

This is how the story of Debby Roe ended,

I was halfway home when I realized that I was hungry. I headed to Meijer’s—they had a store where the A. & P. used to be—to pick up something for dinner. I thought about Clarice, at Detroit Magazine. I imagined her invisibly listening to my confrontation with Ned Johnson. I imagined her frowning mouth when he said that he’d covered my hand with his, and that I’d held his finger. I pulled into the Meijer’s lot. I took my phone out of my purse. I thought, if the story came out now, everybody was going to ask, “Why did you wait so long?” People would joke about it; they’d masturbate over it. And I could hardly blame them!  

I smiled, sort of. Because at least I’d hit him in the head. I put my phone back in my purse. I would think on it again tomorrow. Tomorrow, the waking world would finally have its say. I got out of the car and went to get dinner. I was starving.