#MeToo Every story that is told is heartbreakingly familiar.

CW: Rape, Sexual Assault, Social media

We’ve all seen the hashtag campaign: it exploded after actor Alyssa Milano tweeted on the 15th of October:

#metoo Suggested by a friend: “If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too’ as a status, we might get a sense of the magnitude of the problem.”

In the following days, thousands more have joined in, but this idea has been around almost a decade, started by US activist, Tarana Burke, who describes the movement as ’empowerment through empathy’ explaining that there is healing amongst survivors in sharing their experiences and support with one another.

In the last few days, I have seen so many of my friends adding their voices to the online chorus of hundreds others. I have also watched people supporting and listening, while more still have needed to take a break from the onslaught of triggering details in order to take care of themselves. The numbers counted by Facebook and Twitter are staggering, but there are undoubtedly more who didn’t, or couldn’t say ‘Me too’. Those outside of the conversation may not have posted for a number of reasons: they may not be able to share that story with the world, they may not yet have even realised that the ‘uncomfortable situation’ they remember even amounted to assault.

The stigma of an issue like sexual assault is eroded by shining light on it, and the sharing of stories can be extremely cathartic for survivors. It is great to see the solidarity and outrage, largely spurred on in reaction to the allegations against Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein. However, it is not news that sexual assault is a massive issue. We know that most, if not all, of us have had these experiences: the guy in a club who won’t leave you alone, and keeps dancing on top of you until a friend manoeuvres themselves in between or you fabricate a boyfriend to make him leave you alone (girlfriends aren’t threatening enough). The boss who awkwardly hugs or suggestively brushes past you. That one friend who gets ‘handsy’ after too much alcohol. Or worse, so much worse.

Every story that is told is heartbreakingly familiar and one quickly realises that sexual harassment and assault are ubiquitous experiences, part of a web of inequality and permissive rape culture.

I have very mixed feelings on this topic. On one hand, I am thrilled that the issue of sexual violence is getting headline attention. However, much of my mind is preoccupied with reliving the trauma of my own experiences, and I have no doubt this is the case for many others.  While I realise that this movement has many positive impacts, social media is not a safe place for many with mental illness or trauma, but especially not for those who have experienced sexual assault. With every news outlet giving daily updates on the tweeting, pussy-grabbing megalomaniac across the Atlantic, and the weekly news about fallout from sex abuse scandals, largely perpetrated by rich and powerful men, whether in the entertainment world or in religious institutions, it is impossible to avoid the topic without living in a wifi-free cave. The conversation led by survivors though, is different, it takes some of the power back.

The question has been raised about the repercussions of asking survivors to ‘out’ themselves to prove to the world that our suffering is serious enough to get the attention it deserves. It has been also argued that this puts pressure on people to acknowledge publicly their trauma before they might be ready. This issue of re-victimisation is real and there must be sensitivity in how we share and present material that can be extremely difficult to process, but also bearing in mind the solidarity and  sense of ownership that can be found in telling your story, on your terms.

This is not the first time that survivors of sexual assault and harassment have taken to social media armed with anger, hurt and hashtags, and I doubt it will be the last. #WhenIWas, #YesAllWomen and #IBelieveHer have all made waves but it’s disheartening to count how many of these similar campaigns have come and gone.

While it is easy to become cynical, there is a spin-off hashtag, which is more encouraging: #HowIWillChange. Where people, men in particular, post about how they will take action to challenge rape culture, citing challenging toxic masculinity, setting a better example for children around them and calling out demeaning or sexist jokes. This hashtag and also #IDidThat and #HimThough, aim to throw the shame and the responsibility back onto the perpetrators, where it belongs. It asks would-be bystanders to intervene and question the behaviour of others around them.

The issue of sexual violence is a gendered one, and while it is worth remembering that not all victims and survivors are women, that the conversation absolutely includes trans and non-binary folk, it is well established that men make up the vast majority of perpetrators. In a patriarchal society, they have the power to change the course of this narrative, and behavioural patterns in response to the outpouring of stories from those around them.

This is yet another vital, necessary conversation, gaining significant traction: however it must be part of a wider effort to combat rape culture on campus and across society. We must put  the emphasis on creating an environment unaccepting of perpetrators as well as supportive and believing of those who choose to share their experiences of sexual violence. We must collectively make it clear that the situation as it stands must change. It follows that if so many of our loved ones are survivors, then we also know people who have violated someone’s consent, and that may even more uncomfortable. It is time to take the hashtags into our everyday interactions and create the atmosphere of consent we need and desire.

For survivors, though, the message is clear: you are not alone. We hear you, we are with you and we believe you.

Dublin Rape Crisis Centre: http://www.drcc.ie/ 1800 77 88 88
Niteline: https://niteline.ie/ 1800 793 793
TCDSU Welfare Officer, Damien McClean: welfare@tcdsu.org

Student Counselling: www.tcd.ie/Student_Counselling/ (01) 8961407

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