Life In a #MeToo World: Part 2 - To My Sisters

In spite of my experiences growing up in a #MeToo culture, there was a time when I would have scoffed at the current movement.  However absurd that may sound, facing the narrative and its implications was fraught with risks and felt unsettling.  Any time our views of the world topple, forcing us to re-examine our foundational beliefs, we are left floundering in quicksand with no guarantee we will regain our footing before we are swallowed up.  It feels infinitely safer to  avoid that struggle...to pull ourselves up by the proverbial bootstraps and keep moving.  That's exactly what I did for decades.  By isolating each incident, I failed to view them as part of a narrative arc that revealed an unhealthy, potentially ominous, underlying cultural mindset.  The emergence of the recent movement made it impossible for me to ignore that any longer.

When we can no longer deny the reality, what do we do next?  Where do we go from here?  That depends on where we are in our journey.  Most of us likely fall into one of the following categories:  The Unscathed, The Reluctant, The Hurting, and The Crusaders.  Each carries unique risks and responsibilities.

To the Unscathed:

To those who have managed to navigate life apart from any personal #MeToo moments, I encourage you to be thankful.   You are likely traveling lighter than many of your sisters.

Our stories might make you feel uncomfortable, suspicious, or judgmental, but it's immensely helpful if you can remain ready to listen, believe, and support us.  Chances are, behind the stories we willingly share, lurk deeper stories we are not quite ready to unearth.  Receptive hearts increase the likelihood we will eventually confront our stories in a way that leads to healing and hope.  It's particularly disheartening to have our own kind dismiss our concerns.  We need you in our corner.

To the Reluctant:

To those who hesitate to share your stories, I understand.  But I encourage you to be brave.  

Perhaps you are reluctant because you fear being branded as fragile, overly-sensitive, or reactionary.  You may be rejected, belittled, disbelieved, or ridiculed.  You might even be labeled as guilty.  Worst of all, you might simply be ignored.

Perhaps you don't share because you pride yourself in your resilience.  I get that too.  While strength is an admirable quality, silence does nothing to illuminate and reshape the culture and may even, unwittingly, enable it.  

Perhaps your reluctance stems from the deeply personal nature of your story or a lingering sense of shame.  I believe there has never been a safer time to speak up.  Some very brave souls in very public cases have stormed the front lines and shouldered these same risks to pave the way for more of us to do the same.  

Shared stories create solidarity.  Solidarity cultivates courage.  Courage breeds action.  Action fuels reform.  For the sake of those  sisters whose hurts have been more significant than ours, or who don't have the internal reserves to power through, let's be brave together.  

To The Hurting:

To my sisters who have already faced (and maybe even shared) your stories but remain overwhelmed, confused, angry, weary, or downtrodden, I'm sorry.  Don't stop fighting!  This road can be long and arduous, but you've already demonstrated that you are strong enough to survive.  Let that same strength guide you through the grieving process toward healing.  I encourage you to seek out the stories of women who have found hope and new life on the other side and add your name to their ranks!  However long it takes, it's worth the effort.

To the Crusaders:

To those who are further down the road and working in any capacity to champion cultural reform, thank you.  I'm particularly thankful for those who, without minimizing the brokenness, refuse to advocate for reform by denigrating the male population.  Doing so might feel justified.  It might even  serve to shift the balance of power, but it won't bring about a better world.  They too inherited this culture and have, to varying degrees, been shaped by or contributed to it, wittingly or unwittingly.  Alienating them is counter-productive because genuine, lasting reform will require harmonious efforts to expose both blatant and subtle mindsets, to change our vocabulary, to transform our habits, and to foster deep-seated mutual respect.  We need our brothers on our side too!  

One exemplary figure from whom we can draw courage, is Rachael Denhollander, whose efforts recently thrust her into the public eye.  After years of intense behind-the-scenes work, repeated rejection, and in the midst of continued criticism, she stays the course.  Despite accusations that she is in it for money, despite losing friends along the way, and despite being told her status as a victim sullies her advocacy efforts, she remains articulate and unwavering in her calls for justice, as well as institutional and cultural reform. The righteous anger in her voice is unmistakable, yet she is a lighthouse of grace.  Her harshest words are reserved for those in positions of authority who have created and continue to defend systems that have birthed and nurtured the conditions that allow #MeToo behavior to flourish.  She derives her resilience largely from her determination to create a safer world for women and girls.    

Imagine with me what might be if we persist.  If we refuse to give up.  If we channel our collective energy toward healing the brokenness.  As Rachael has so poignantly stated, the lives of all the little girls coming after us, are worth it.