Day 271- #MeToo, Mr. President

Mr. President,

Yesterday, a social media campaign went viral. On Twitter and on Facebook, women revealed with a simple “Me Too” that they had experienced sexual assault or sexual harassment.

This campaign shouldn’t have had to happen. After all, #EverydaySexism already made this perfectly clear in 2012. And #YesAllWomen went viral in 2014. It should be clear by now to every single person in our country that sexual harassment and sexual assault are simply part of the fiber of our social culture: things that, if you are a woman, are not about if, but about when. And yet, this morning, men I respect and whose opinions I value greatly were shocked and saddened at the sheer volume of #MeToo that had appeared in their feeds. It seems that, no matter how many times this topic goes viral, somehow it doesn’t sink in. Instead, women are forced to claim their own assaults again and again, and out themselves and vocalize their pain and humiliation, while the men continue to express disbelief.

I first witnessed this phenomenon at a book club years ago. As we women sat around a bonfire, wine in hand, our conversation moved from the book we’d read to our loss-of-virginity stories. A lone husband sat in the group, an “honorary girl” for the night. And as we shared our stories around the circle, it became painfully clear: 7 of the 8 of us women had lost our virginity in a situation that was clearly sexual assault. Only 1 woman had a lovely and loving story to tell, a John Hughes movie kind of story in soft-focus lighting. For the rest of us, our stories did not involve consent. This is the universal narrative of how the women of Generation X lost their virginity. Rape was our rite of passage. And the lone husband felt ill, realizing what had been taken from all of us…all of us strong, independent, self-supporting, Feminist, highly educated and highly successful women. All of us, sir.

And Mr. President, #MeToo doesn’t end there.

Photograph from Unsplash

Because I, too, was assaulted not once but twice on public transportation. And the look on that second man’s face as he rubbed his erect penis on me and knew I was powerless to move away in that incredibly packed subway car…that horrific look on his face will live on as the expression of pure evil in my memory for the rest of my life. #MeToo, sir, in my own dorm room, after I let a guy I met at a party crash there, later waking up to his literally being inside me…#MeToo, Mr. President. #MeToo. And yet, I did not fight him off. I did not accuse him of rape. For years, I called it a “one night stand.” I thought I deserved it, had asked for it even, since I let him crash with me. And #MeToo, sir, on the job, as I learned to quickly twist away when working on a construction crew, so that a man couldn’t undo my bra as he walked by. #MeToo.

Our stories are ubiquitous. They are everywhere.

Why am I telling you? Not only because you are a perpetrator yourself. Not only because you have wives and daughters who you want to protect from men like yourself. Not only because you have sons who you must teach to somehow be better than yourself. Not only because you want to dismiss all of the accusers as liars, women too ugly to be worth your time. Not only because you believe that men in locker rooms engage in “locker room talk.” Not only because you believe it appropriate to comment on the appearance of world leaders, their wives, and all women in general. Not only for all of these reasons, but also because you have a powerful platform. The world is clinging (unfortunately) on to your every word and tweet. Even if you are not capable of understanding how to treat—or not treat—women, you have the ability to advance our cause regardless.

Instead of spending all of your energy trying to undo everything that President Obama ever did, consider doing something revolutionary. (I don’t mean sending us headlong into war with North Korea and destabilizing the Middle East. We’ve actually already been in similar situations there, believe it or not.) Instead, I challenge you to do something that no one else has ever managed to do:

1. Listen.
2. Believe.
3. Write legislation that protects women and the non-cisgendered community. Instead of simply dismantling the 2014 Fair Pay and Safe Workplaces order and the Obama-era Title IX guidance on campus sexual assault and setting us back decades, write something that could actually help someone: write an executive order that demands that sexual assault and sexual harassment receive legislative focus, government funding, and an investment in education to finally turn the tide towards equality, equity, and safety for all women.
4. Use your rhetoric to promote respect. Find it within yourself to note the phenomenal women who surround you: not because they “are in such good shape” but because they are intelligent, educated, successful, worthy and equal human beings who are so much more than their physicality and sexuality.
5. Make it so that men finally realize that harassing a woman verbally or physically doesn’t make them strong; it only makes them weak and pathetic.
6. Make it so that women feel brave enough to speak, and so that women know they will be heard.
7. Make it no longer necessary for millions of women to out their own sexual assault and sexual harassment on social media just so we can be taken seriously.
8. Make it no longer happen. Make it so that our daughters will never have to say #MeToo.

Sincerely,

Sharon Murchie

(Originally posted at Letters2Trump.)