P.S. …: Is "Me Too" enough?

I, like most women I imagine, could say “me too” about several instances. These range from being groped by strangers, to street harassment, to assault, to discovering that a high school teacher and mentor was a sexual predator once I had graduated. And therein lies an important message — sexual violence isn’t a single event for women, but myriad experiences that dot our existence. Sexual violence and instances of “me too” are as commonplace, as much a part of “womanhood,” as walking with a heightened pace at night. And one could easily argue that if something is a fundamental part of one’s experience — how every woman imagines the inevitability of “her rape,” for example — that it is in turn part of their identity. Notice how “me too,” isn’t “it happened to me too.” Whether this distinction is to shorten a hashtag, or is actually more meaningful is unclear. But, it reminds us, like other taglines, such as “violence against women,” that while individual women are identified as victims of sexual violence, perpetrators remain elusive, masked and ambiguous. Perhaps irrelevant.

As Roxane Gay thoughtfully argued in her recent New York Times opinion piece, “Dear Men: It’s You Too,” the “me too” phenomenon once again places the burden of not only experiencing, but also championing and ending sexual violence on those who are not responsible. In this sense, women once again hold the onus for sexual violence — this time, for public awareness, not just its prevention. As stories and testimony from recent events have shown, most rapes and assaults are by people survivors knew and/or worked with, meaning rapists are our peers. Rapists and sexual predators exist within every socioeconomic class, every race, every political affiliation, every career path and every walk of life. Ninety eight percent of rapists are men, though of course men and those who do not conform to gender are also victims of sexual violence, which could be perpetrated by someone of any gender identity.

With this in mind, if we know victims of sexual violence, chances are we also know rapists. Of course, it would be naïve to assume that assailants and sexual predators would willingly out themselves, given the consequences that would incur. In many cases, rapists may not even know they are rapists, which speaks to a deeper and even more difficult problem to surmount — teaching men not only not to rape, but also what rape is. But women have been expected to put aside the consequences that outing themselves as survivors may incur. Once again, women have decided — en masse this time — that their own personal comfort, identity, safety and potential backlash are subordinate to the greater good.

Speaking out can be empowering for many women; it was for me, but empowerment came alongside equally common emotions, including vulnerability, guilt, fear, confusion, grief and above all else, shame — a shame re-experienced when posting, “me too.” I hate to imagine a world where we continue to rely on women’s profound graciousness, courage and willingness to be uncomfortable in order to create change. And off the record, I felt more empowered by naming names.