My facebook and my instagram were full of #metoo. I’m sure yours were too. My status was too, because, well… #metoo.
I once saw a general ask on facebook for stories of sexual harassment at work and thought I hadn’t ever experienced that because I worked in a bar. Not because there was no sexual harassment in that bar, but because I thought it somehow didn’t count because it WAS a bar.
I once woke up on a train in Spain to a man assaulting me. I got in a punch and a police officer who I couldn’t speak to due to the language barrier stood outside the door all night because he already knew. In Rome, the old man who assaulted me on a bus got to stand there the rest of the ride because I hadn’t bought a ticket and was afraid of getting caught.
I once got drunk.
I’ve walked down city streets and gone to college and parties and shopped and bought things in stores and worked and lived in the world, so #metoo. And I know, you too.
Monday, after the ten year old metoo campaign went viral, I wondered if anything would change. It’s just a hashtag. Late Monday, I finally posted.