Remember the trends of the 1970s? Platform shoes. Bell bottoms. Tie dye.
Jumpsuits. The 80s brought us Cabbage Patch dolls, slap bracelets, and mullet
hairstyles, while the 90s introduced Beanie Babies, pogs, and Tickle Me Elmo to
our world.
In this decade, we are
just as likely to use the word “trend” as a verb, especially on social media.
The #Harlem Shake phenomena trended in February 2013. The ice bucket challenge
went viral the next year, trending on Facebook in July-August 2014, raising
awareness and funds for ALS research. Remember #bringhomethegirls, the social
media effort to draw attention to the young women kidnapped in Nigeria, more
than three years ago? Sadly, 113 girls are still in captivity.
Now, in October 2017, a new trend is hitting
social media. Here’s the post: "If all the women
who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too’ as a status, we
might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.”
Where did this come from? It’s been
brewing for a long time. Remember Tamar, King David’s daughter, who lived as a
desolate woman after her brother raped her? In recent history, women cringed at
the release of the Access Hollywood tape in early October 2016, and the
publication of an investigative report in the New York Times on October 5 detailing
decades of sexual harassment allegations against Harvey Weinstein has been
unnerving. Initially, I had no clue who Weinstein was, but extensive reporting suggests
he targeted dozens of women, some household names.
Finally, awakened by these press reports,
social media is providing “a galvanizing platform for women to discuss their
experiences,” notes Anna Codrea-Rado. “Hashtag: #me too.” Amy Suskind explains: “What started out [last]
Sunday as women speaking out with the hashtag Women Who Roar, organically shifted
to women telling their truth with Me Too, and it was heartbreaking how many. It
was also the most amazing and inspiring mix of strength and compassion I have
ever seen.”
Listen to the voices: “Me, too.” “I was fourteen.” “I was nineteen.” “It
was date rape.” “I was only in grade school when it happened.” “No one would
have believed me.”
Author and poet Najwa Zebian struggled. “I
was blamed for it. I was told not to talk about it. I was told that it wasn’t
that bad. I was told to get over it.” Noelle Newby writes, “I remember your
faces. Your hands. Your words. Your eyes. Your jokes. I remember your magical
thinking that ‘we shared a moment’ and your attempts at damage control to
ensure you weren’t discovered.”
One Ashland friend lamented: “All the #me
too remarks are heavy. Some have made me cry. But I am comforted if that's the
right word to know so many of us have a bond even though unspoken which we can
gain strength from each other. Alone we can be scared but together we are
strong.” Scared – and scarred – yet strong.
Another wrote, “I've decided I'm not content with the original posting.
I'm heartbroken and not at all surprised to see how often this post is showing
up in the feeds of my friends. The numbers around sexual violence are
astounding. I'm sick of it being the norm. I'm done with the silence.”
Reading those five letters this week, I claimed the ancient words of the
prophet Jeremiah: “What I see brings grief to my soul because of all the women
in my city” (Lamentations 3:51).
Typing those five letters is both terrifying and liberating. Former
Ashlander Rev. Adam Baker recognizes the two-edged sword:
“The reality that ‘me too’ is
empowering many survivors to share their stories for the first time. The
reality that #me too is a massive, ongoing trigger for many other survivors. Sexual
predation, harassment, and assault is never simply a one-time experience, my
friends. Trauma is very, very real, and it haunts you . . .”
At the Women’s March, MILCK sang of what’s been ‘normal,’
expected. “Put on your face, know your place, shut up and smile . . .” Yet no
longer. For women around the world are singing with MILCK, “I can’t keep quiet
. . . for anyone, anymore.”
Me too.
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