The phenomenon of #Metoo has swept the world, and by this time is starting to fade into the realm of yesterday’s news. In case you’ve been living under a rock for several years (which, honestly, some of us have) #Metoo is a tag women used to identify themselves as having been in some way, shape, or form, assaulted, bullied, or made uncomfortable by a man. It was a way of saying we’ve all been there, of banding together, letting women and girls know that they are not alone, and for many, a way to take back their power. Many women chose to post their stories and some simply posted the hashtag.
Many men and some women were dumfounded at the number of posts. Multiple pundits sputtered that it couldn’t be true, that people were jumping on the band wagon, making it up. It was too much to take in, and definitely too much work to change, so many decided to deny the problem.
But here’s the thing. That number is still not everyone. There are still more women and girls who have chosen to stay silent.
At the age of twelve, a friend of mine, who had developed early, encountered a man in his thirties on her apartment stair well. She and I were on the way to the pool in her complex. The man used his finger the pull out the top edge of her suit, look down at her breasts and say, “Nice.” She has yet to post her, #Metoo.
I met with a friend during the height of the #Metoo fervor and she asked me in a whisper if I had posted the hashtag. I told her no. What happened to me is too personal, has affected me too deeply to casually post a hashtag about it. Her body slumped down in relief. She too had a past trauma so profoundly damaging and personal she did not feel comfortable boiling it down to a hashtag. It makes me wonder how many more women out there have a #Metoo moment that they feel is #toprivatetoshare.
Rebecca Lamprey 