A lot of people are saying #MeToo lately; so many, in fact, that its meaning is getting diluted and we’re losing sight of what the message should be in workplaces – and society, for that matter. Let me explain. I was a 7-year-old 2nd grader the first time I learned you should not speak up if you were touched wrongly – that doing so may have negative consequences at least as bad or worse than the offending act in the first place.
How old were you the first time you learned not to speak up?
I mean no offense to rape or sexual assault victims. I am privileged never to have been violently assaulted. I also run a company in which it is my duty and privilege to provide a culture that is free of fear, intimidation or harassment of any kind. But I identify with the #MeToo movement because I learned so young that defending myself in times of need was not wise. To me, this is what #MeToo is about.
With respect to those who disagree or who identify with the movement more broadly, my take on #MeToo is that anyone who has avoided reporting that their sex was used against them by someone in power – or who reported it and later regretted coming forward – should be shouting “I, too!”
Bear in mind: Unwanted cat-calls by strangers or sexist behavior at work or anywhere else have little to do with the Harvey Weinstein case, and shouldn’t drive the #MeToo movement.
The bigger problem is not just sexism, but forced silence.
Back to 2nd grade, where boys played a game they called, “RCK” (Run, Catch, Kiss). Girls ran, boys chased us. It was fun enough unless they caught us and slimed their sweaty faces on ours. A teacher named Mrs. Molito was on yard duty the day some boys caught me. When I ran full force into her and out of breath, she stopped and asked what had me so upset. I blurted between breaths, “They’re… trying… to… kiss… me!!”
“Who is?” Mrs. Molito asked.
“Th-the… boys!” I panted.
“I see,” said Mrs. Molito. “Well, what is it you’re doing that is making the boys want to kiss you?”
As a precocious child, it wasn’t lost on me that Mrs. Molito didn’t like me. And I was wise enough to sense she was implying that it was my fault the boys were chasing me. Even worse, when my parents called the school, Mrs. Molito reaffirmed that I was to blame for the incident. That’s when I learned the consequences of speaking up. The school decided it was best if I stayed inside for recess. Whenever I did choose to play outside, kids would call out in sickly sweet, sarcasm-dripped voices, “You sure you want to play, Marilyn? You know what may happen!”
Twelve years later, I was fired from a job for the first and only time after refusing the sexual advances of my boss, who was the company owner. I didn’t particularly care about the entry-level job, anyway, and was offered another job before making it home that afternoon.
But the Harvey Weinstein situation reminds me how lucky I was that I cared so little about the job. For me, that confrontation was a learning experience. I learned to examine my own behavior, taking caution not to accidentally send signals that men could misinterpret. In other words, I victim-blamed myself, and I kept silent.
That – victim self-blame – is the crux of the Weinstein case. With limited roles in show-biz and male executives in charge of many female actors’ or producers’ entire careers, the women who are now speaking up once chose their fate with Weinstein over the expected fallout of reporting the misdeeds of their bosses. Those who want to say #MeToo are in a quandary: Do they speak up proudly or, in doing so, are they acknowledging that their silence made them complicit in the continued abuse?
Here is the worst part. I don’t know what to tell those same folks. I harbor guilt from a “Her, too” event that happened about two years ago. “Connie,” a youngish acquaintance making her way in journalism, landed a dream role in an industry that’s top-heavy with men. Later, while attending a party at her boss’s, she ended up alone with him in his room, where he allegedly rubbed his crotch on her skirted bottom, making lewd comments. Purportedly, he was also high on drugs. Connie broke free and even stayed at the party for a while to avoid making a scene before leaving. To say she was horrified is an understatement. Her role required her to travel with this man. She struggled to see how they’d work together in the future.
Connie told me that all she wanted was for him to apologize and acknowledge that what he’d done was inappropriate. Maybe I should feel like less of a feminist for advising her the way I did, but I’m not proud of the fact that I told this talented young journalist that not only were the apology and acknowledgment doubtful, but that the company owner would probably back its big-time editor and ship her out of the major market to cover school news in South Dakota. I didn’t advise her not to report the incident, but I did make sure she knew how things might play out if she did.
Connie never reported it. Although I reassured her that what her boss did was wrong, I also stressed that the solution she sought probably would not outweigh the harm to her career. She understandably hasn’t told me any more about what happened. To my knowledge, she didn’t suffer additional physical attacks, but she can probably think of few people who disappointed her more after that situation than I did.
To this day, I am still ashamed. I am glad Connie held onto her major-market job and (hopefully) didn’t suffer further lewd encounters. But I am more than certain that while watching so many women come forward now, Connie probably feels as disappointed in me as today’s “Me, too” women do in the agents, advisors and other executives who failed to help them.
When Connie really needed help, the system failed her, as did I. But the system as a whole will need to change before I will feel confident advising the next “Connie” any differently. For now, I can only control my own workplace and raise my own sons not to use power and fear to play grab-ass. With choices, comes power. Connie, fortunately, has choices, as do many of the #MeToo women. Hopefully they’ll tell their next offenders to F- off.
