Honest Thoughts on The "Me Too" Movement (and Why It Backfired)

When I first saw the now famous “Me Too” movement pop up on my twitter feed, it made me surprisingly happy. As a survivor of sexual violence, and one who had already come forward on social media and spoken out against their abuse, I was excited for others to feel the feeling of freedom that I felt. In November of 2016, I was sexually assaulted. By now I have come to terms with this, but I kept my assault a secret for nearly four months. I told people slowly, one-by-one, starting with the few people that I trusted, until one day I stepped forward publicly; posting a collection of poetry detailing my assault and the mental health crisis that followed. I posted this on the six month anniversary of my assault, and the amount of positivity I received brought me a newfound feeling of hope and happiness that had been absent from my life for quite a long time. Me Too was, as I hoped, the opportunity for more survivors to speak about their experiences and ultimately end the stigma while furthering their own healing.

This is not what Me Too did.

Without a doubt, the Me Too movement created a platform where sexual abuse and assault was able to be talked about in an open and honest light, which was satisfying, but let’s all be real for a second. This is the internet we’re talking about. There has been, and probably always will be, people who just want to cause trouble (“trolls,” as internet users may commonly refer to them as). The most frequent ‘trolling’ comment that has been encountered with cases involving sexual violence is the issue of false accusations. So many survivors coming forward all at once, there are bound to be people who just simply don’t believe them, and as an avid social media user you can trust me on this; they will let you know that they don’t believe them. No amount of evidence will ever be enough for some people, they will always lean towards assuming that the victim is lying for some sort of personal gain, or simply as a means to slander whoever it is that they are accusing (this is especially noticeable in accusations against authority figures).

If you are somebody reading this who is not a survivor of sexual violence, this may not be a huge deal to you. Sure, people will troll online and post frequent comments about victims being liars, but so what? It’s still a positive movement, right?

Here’s the problem. As aforementioned, I hid my assault from even my closest friends for three to four months and many survivors wait much longer before coming forward. There are a lot of reasons that survivors ‘hide’ the details of their experiences, but for me, a large factor in my silence was the strong fear that people would not believe me. Even to this day, nearly 14 months after my assault (ten months after first coming forward), I still worry that people do not believe me. Me Too brought about a sudden wave of ‘troll’ comments on the internet, many of which included strong messages saying that certain people were lying about these experiences. Even though (for the most part) these comments were not directed at me, reading such strong messages over and over made me internalize what they were saying more than ever.

I understand that Me Too was a vital point in some survivor’s road to recovery. And to each and every person who shared their story, thank you. I applaud your courage, your bravery. But personally, Me Too became more of a burden.

I began to feel like not only did I owe it to others to be there for them and support them wholeheartedly, but that I owed the world my story. Every time I got on Twitter, Facebook and even Instagram, I saw posts about sexual assault (some very in detail to the point where despite feeling triggered, I felt like I owed the writer to listen to their story in a way) and there was no escape from it. Social media is a part of my everyday life, a coping mechanism of sorts for when I over-stress and need to unwind. The sudden outburst of the Me Too movement took that away all at once—I no longer was able to turn to my main coping mechanism because it would only leave me feeling more lost and more hopeless.

Within the first few days of the “Me Too” craze, even with avoiding social media as much as possible, I was excited. Every “Me Too” tweet felt like a punch in the stomach, an all too real reminder of everything I had been through. It wasn’t even detailed posts getting to me, even the faintest reminder of anything related to sexual assault left me in either a dissociative state or spiraling into flashbacks of my r*pe. My mental health was deteriorating more and more every time I picked up my phone, and the effects of Me Too even seeped into conversations in the real world. I felt more tired and fatigued than ever, and part of me wonders if I was so tired from constant exposure to my triggers that I was falling physically ill. There simply was no escape.

I wish Me Too brought me the comfort that I was hoping for, but unfortunately it only brought about turmoil in my already messy life struggling to recover.

For all the survivors reading this: I’m with you. I understand you. I believe you. You do not owe the world your story.

For those reading this that do not have their own Me Too story: Please hear us. We are here. We are tired.