“Me too,” I thought, scrolling through Facebook.
I reacted with likes, hearts, and sad-faced emoticons, but until now, I couldn’t type the words.
“Does that count?” “What about that ‘no,’ which, weary from repetition, became ‘yes’?” “Or the gropes, cat-calls, unsollicited drunken advances, yells and leering stares from trucks, and men following me in cars for minutes that feel like forever?”
It’s perverse that I questioned whether I was “worthy” to enter into this category, that a social media movement enabling victims of harassment and assault to speak up could make me wonder if my experience was “bad enough.”
My internal dilemma is just a symptom of the tensions at the heart of the “me too” movement. Social media’s equal capacity to spark nationwide conversations and curtail real activism only exacerbates those.
The flood of “me too” statuses reveals the staggering degree to which sexual harassment and assault are happening. Each post made me feel angry at how prevalent this issue is and sad for my friends who have gone through experiences that left them afraid, in pain, and helpless.
Some women came forward with full, heartbreaking accounts, while others simply posted “me too.” Both responses are acceptable. No victim owes casual scrollers her story.
The lack of distinction between sexual harassment and sexual assault in the “me too” movement is a strength and a weakness. In not defining the circumstances, more women can identify with “me too” and post their solidarity because any form of sexual violence manifests in an alarming array of physical, verbal, psychological, and emotional ways.
This lack of distinction poses a problem for skeptics, who find this too subjective and claim the movement can only have credence if the stories justifying these posts fit the legal definition of harassment and assault. Approaching victims through this legal-rational framework can only distinguish between victim and aggressor and seek justice for physical harm, but it cannot approach the whole person. Thus, the deck is stacked against women trying to express the physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychological ways fear manifests itself after these experiences. And those who still need to learn this lesson can’t hear it. The success of “me too” depends on showing skeptics the magnitude of the problem through this collective confession.
Social media complicates the story too. Will “me too” be an actual movement? Or, with the beginnings of memes and impersonal hashtags, will it devolve into a trend because it was built on the shaky foundation of Facebook’s false sense of solidarity?
Just as social media enables the proliferation of causes and expressions of solidarity, it passively causes complacency about activism, convincing us “reacting” fulfills our obligation to do something. The posts may be growing louder, but we are still faced with the crushing reality that Facebook and Twitter are just empty rooms where we shout and shout but nobody listens or does anything.
Without a robust vocabulary that acknowledges human dignity and without the motivation to post due to perceived requirements, what can we do?
Listen.
The words aren’t easy to come by, the stories make us wince, and most of the time, it’s easier not to say anything. If you don’t listen to us, though, and seek to understand the things beyond expression on social media and in superficial conversation, you won’t ever have to see us for who we are: Beings who must not be manipulated for the pleasure of power.
“Me too” has so much potential because it forces people to reckon with a fuller conception of a person than the happy, put-together, or witty persona she is limited to on social media. It shocks us into remembering that behind every post is a physical person with a complex system of physical, psychological, and emotional ways of internalizing the many forms aggression takes on as real experiences and sources of fear.
But social media cannot be the end of political activism. Love doesn’t just react; it steps into its immediate community — our temporary, constructed one here at Hillsdale, for example — and asks where it needs to be and who it needs to surround.
“Me too” is passive. Every woman who utters it reveals how she was treated like something less than fully human: “This happened to me too.” Our response to this must carry sympathy and connect us to each other, it must acknowledge our human imperative to recognize our wholeness and the hurt done to us.
Jo Kroeker is a senior studying French.
