Dear Meteor readers,

Today, we’re marking the five-year anniversary of the #MeToo movement going viral—five years since millions of people discovered the work of Tarana Burke, and, prompted by charges against Harvey Weinstein, began to share their own stories of sexual assault. Countless others followed suit.

Since then, so much has changed, and so much hasn’t. In today’s newsletter, Samhita Mukhopadhyay talks to feminist author and TV host Zerlina Maxwell, who told her own story years before #MeToo, about the anniversary, and what it actually means to #believewomen. We also share a list of changes we’ve seen in the last five years to fight rape culture.

Thankful for Tarana,

Shannon Melero

LOOKING BACK

“I‘m Not Afraid to Keep Talking”

Zerlina Maxwell discusses the impact of the #MeToo movement. 

BY SAMHITA MUKHOPADHYAY

ZERLINA MAXWELL SPEAKING AT A POLITICAL CONVENTION IN LOS ANGELES. (IMAGE BY PHILIP FARAONE VIA GETTY IMAGES) 

As I began reflecting on the five years since #MeToo went viral, I found myself thinking, maybe surprisingly, of the many years that came before it. I thought about the Take Back the Night marches I attended in college, the organizations that had long been committed to eradicating rape, such as RAINN or the New York and California Coalitions Against Sexual Assault, and anthologies like Yes Means Yes, edited by Jaclyn Friedman and Jessica Valenti in 2008 in which survivors shared their experiences and talked openly about rape culture. After all, Tarana Burke, the leader of the #MeToo movement, coined “me too” in 2006.

Today we celebrate the anniversary of a breaking point: the moment it went from a conversation in the margins to one that couldn’t be ignored. But survivors have been coming forward with their stories for a long time, and we wanted to take today to reflect on the work that came before 2017 and the work that lies ahead.

I knew exactly who I wanted to talk to in honor of today’s anniversary: my dear friend, feminist, anti-rape advocate, writer, Mornings with Zerlina on SiriusXM, and author of The End of White Politics, Zerlina Maxwell.

Samhita Mukhopadhyay: One of the first conversations we ever had with each other over 10 years ago, was bonding over being survivors.

Zerlina Maxwell: I remember; it was in that bar in Brooklyn. We talked about how we both had issues sleeping after our assaults. And we cried, and we held hands. I think it was like meeting a “friend soulmate” but also meeting someone with the same scars on our souls. It was a connection through a shared pain and deep pain.

By the end of the night, we were best friends. How did you first come forward with your story, and what was that experience like?

I hadn’t really called it anything yet…and when I explained what happened to someone the day after it happened, their answer back to me was: “That sounds like sexual assault.” So I went to the hospital to officially report it, and the police also responded to me: “What you describe is a sexual assault.” So for me, I think it was getting other people to say it to me. [That’s] when it became real. I knew something bad happened to me right away and was really numb but hearing people call it sexual assault helped me begin processing the trauma.

I think it happens differently for everyone. And sometimes it can take a really long time because you’ve tried to probably block it out and move on and pretend it didn’t happen at all, or maybe that it was just some confusing thing. And it’s the process of coming to terms with what happened: Something really did happen, and now my life would never be the same again. It was kind of world-shattering.

But I think what broke me more than the actual assault was the people who didn’t believe me. That’s what bothered me the most. Because I always felt like I’m a very trustworthy person. I really don’t lie. I just try to be honest about stuff, and for people to be like, “I don’t believe that happened to you,” that broke my spirit. I was lost for a few years and a shell of the person I was before or who I am today. The impact of the victim blaming is actually what broke me. I don’t think people really recognized how traumatizing that part of it could be. And I really broke. I fell all the way apart.

WOMEN IN AMSTERDAM PROTESTING SEXUAL VIOLENCE IN THE WAKE OF A DUTCH METOO SCANDAL. (IMAGE BY PAULO AMORIM VIA GETTY IMAGES)

This was in the early 2010s, long before #MeToo. In 2014, there was a similar hashtag, #YesAllWomen, which women were using to share their experiences with sexual assault. How did that make you feel? 

Validated. It made me feel less alone. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk about it: Because I knew it wasn’t just me.

One of the things I [realized] was this idea that we believe that good things happen to good people and bad things happen because you did something bad, or bad circumstances happen because of a mistake that you made and a choice that you made. But that is bullshit. And that was one of the big realizations I had, like, “Why is it that people are blaming me for what happened? Why?” I didn’t understand that. I was like, “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t make choices that led to that.”

And through that [questioning], I gained a level of courage. Because once I felt like I figured it out, I was like, “I found the matrix: [it was] rape culture.”

The right criticized #BelieveWomen as ignoring evidence and facts. We know that was a disingenuous argument because no one ever meant, “Believe all women no matter what the facts are.” What do you mean when you say it? 

When I’m saying you’re believing somebody as a default position, what you’re defaulting to at that moment is empathy and compassion. I always tell kids on college campuses; if you don’t remember anything I said today about rape culture, I want you to remember one thing. And it’s that if somebody comes to you and they say, “I think,”—which is usually what they say, “I think I’ve been sexually assaulted,” and not, like, “I have been”—you say in response: “I am sorry. How can I help?” That’s all you’re going to say. You’re not going to say, “Are you sure?” You’re not going to say, “Oh, were you drinking?” You’re not going to say, “What were you wearing?” All of those things. You’re not going to say any of that. You’re just going to say, “I am sorry that happened to you. How can I help?” That’s all you’re going to say.

You don’t have to make a judgment call at that moment about a verdict or about the case. People get too caught up in that. Besides this idea that people have, “Well, I don’t want to believe without evidence,”—I always like to remind them that in the law, testimony is actually evidence. Sure, there are other types of evidence that you can use to corroborate, and certainly, physical evidence is helpful but not always present in cases like this. But testimonial evidence is evidence. And I want to live in a world where somebody’s account of what happened to them is taken seriously and not shot down.

In 2013 you were on Fox News. You made a statement and it turned into a… I mean, it was a zoo of getting attacked. So walk us through what you said on the air. What happened?

Fox called me to do a segment. The Colorado state legislature was debating a law that would legalize concealed carry on college campuses. And I was like, “That’s not a good idea.” And one of the people that testified was talking about how she was sexually assaulted on a campus in a place where there weren’t guns allowed. And if she had had her gun, she would’ve been able to defend herself. And so the premise of the segment on hand was, “What’s wrong with the people in Colorado? Why won’t they let women defend themselves with guns…that they can carry everywhere to prevent sexual assault?”

And my argument in the segment was, I don’t want or need a gun to not be raped. There’s nobody jumping out of the bushes. It’s the people that you know, your family members and your friends and your intimate partners, classmates, and your colleagues who [rape you]. And so I reframed it in the segment and I said, “Don’t tell me I need a gun. Tell men not to rape.”

And after the segment, I got death threats and rape threats.

People were like, “What do you mean, teach men not to rape??” And I was like, you have to start teaching people about consensual sex, affirmative consent. And men are not being taught that. They’re being taught that women are literally objects that they’re supposed to dominate. And if they can liquor them up to make it easier, then that’s what they are encouraged to do through popular culture. And that’s resulting in real-world harm. And I just wanted to reframe the conversation away from the things that women are always told they need to do to prevent their own assault. I hate that shit.

Five Ways #MeToo Changed Us

The backlash to #MeToo has been fierce, and yes, too few perpetrators have been genuinely punished. But our refusal to normalize sexual assault and sweep abuse under the rug is progress. Here are five signs of forward movement over the last five years:

We listened to victims. 

They did the incredible labor of telling us they would no longer be ignored. Consider:

• The United States gymnasts who put Larry Nassar behind bars and continued their fight by suing the FBI

• The many, MANY women who told the world what Bill Cosby had done to them and took back their own stories with the help of Kamau Bell’s documentary, We Need to Talk About Cosby.

• Evan Rachel Wood, who came out loudly and defiantly against Marilyn Manson, gave other women who had been victims of sexual assault a platform to speak about their experiences in her docuseries Phoenix Rising. Wood also co-authored California’s Phoenix Act (passed in 2019) which extended the statute of limitations granting survivors of sexual assault more time to bring their cases forward. 

• Men like Terry Crews and James Van Der Beek who felt empowered by the #MeToo movement to share their stories, despite the long-held belief that men can’t be victims of sexual assault

Hollywood started to create new ethical and legal standards.

 Today, many sets have intimacy coordinators to help with sex or other vulnerable scenes. But they weren’t a standard fixture on film/TV sets until 2018. The first series to hire an intimacy coordinator was HBO’s The Deuce that year. The post #MeToo era also saw the creation of the Hollywood Commission, which has cataloged the various kinds of abuse and discrimination happening behind the camera and offered solutions on what needs to change.

Long-time predators were brought to justice. 

After years of accusations, lawsuits, and whispers, we have finally begun to see the accused brought to justice. Among those held accountable by the legal system thus far are R. Kelly, Bill Cosby, Harvey Weinstein, and soon, Kevin Spacey, along with enablers like Ghislaine Maxwell. The shroud of money and power that once protected the misdeeds of all of these people is slowly fading. 

Individual states took steps to help survivors of workplace harassment. 

Fifteen states put limits on non-disclosure agreements as they pertain to sexual harassment claims in the workplace, with the broadest limits implemented in the state of Washington. Where NDAs were once used to silence victims of harassment or assault, they now have little to no strength to stop a victim from coming forward against their employer.

#MeToo became a global movement. 

Activists worldwide brought the message of #MeToo to their countries and created a worldwide movement that fundamentally changed how sexual assault is discussed, thought of, and legislated. People in Turkey, Ukraine, Egypt, and across South America broke their silence online, marched, testified, and refused to be judged in their pursuit of justice. 

On an episode of the podcast Because of Anita, Tarana Burke said, “I think that the way movements work is that you have people who put their heads down and grind and grind and grind and grind and grind. And then you have a moment that brings it all together and advances us a little further than we would have advanced on our own.” We’re all so grateful for the grind that got us further than we thought possible. Let’s keep going.

FOLLOW THE METEOR

Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays.

[email protected]