The language of sexual assault
The words Me Too have become pervasive and ubiquitous, for some an almost daily reminder of an event most want to forget.
Me Too has established our right to be regarded as something other than a victim. Being an assault victim is not thought of in the same vein as it was 30 years ago, or 10 or even 1 year ago. Think Kesha, think Rose McGowan or Nobel Peace Prize Winner, Nadia Murad.
It was a concern felt by Connie Chung when she spoke up in favour of Christine Blasey Ford in an Op Ed in the Washington Post. She wrote, “Will my legacy as a television journalist for 30-plus years be relegated to a footnote? Will “She Too” be etched on my tombstone instead? I don’t want to tell the truth. I must tell the truth. As a reporter, the truth has ruled my life, my thinking. It’s what I searched for on a daily working basis.”
With the outpouring and connection of women the mantle and stigma of victim dissipated. Being seen as “forever victim” is something that many women feared. Victims are no longer victims. They are no longer defined by what was done to them. This has now become a tragic scene from their life; not their defining moment.
Ms Murad, held and subjected to multiple rapes, has eclipsed and transformed the word victim. Canadian journalist Amanda Lindhout is also testimony to this; for survivor’s she is incredibly inspiring.
Rape and harassment are human rights abuses, assault is often used as warfare in a warzone; domestic violence victims can also be routinely subjected to rape.
As I considered the language more closely it seemed more like a language of loss, of a victim, of “I am a victim too”, “I too am a survivor”. A reminder and acceptance of an event that I did not want to remember. Even the word survivor evokes the idea of tragedy. It references an event that should not define us. Despite the softness of the language Me Too evoked a roar.
I sat for an undergraduate degree in literature at Sydney during the early 90’s. At the time, analyzing language with a view to patriarchal influence was in fashion. Since that time, I have been fascinated with language and how it is interpreted. Can the statement Me Too be inadvertently allowing male perpetrators to define an event that they themselves are responsible for? Me too has unified women with a common experience. But I don’t really want to say Me Too, I want to say “How dare you”.
There is no question that Tarana Burke is a heroine to many. The Me Too movement was a time of healing and acknowledgment for many, grateful for the chance to call out secret pain and unite in catharsis over a traumatic, yet shared experience. It was language that ignited a revolution unlike anything previously seen.
The language wasn’t chosen to start a revolution, a revolution sought it out. Women needed Me Too, we needed a global experience to recognise that women are still being bullied by men. And perhaps that is a part of the charm of the language, it’s not combative, it’s not confrontational, it’s human. It’s an acknowledgement that we as women on the planet have a problem.
The Me Too Movement and Cancel Culture are not one and the same, yet some people refer to both concepts as being a new evil in society. In Cancel Culture good men or good people are pulled down, whereas the Me Too movement called out a culture of celebrity that has allowed male perpetrators to get away with crimes. Celebrities are known to hide crimes for other celebrities. Much the same as keeping a celebrity secret for a friend, they keep crimes that mates have committed from the media and gaslight people who try to go to the police. Paedophilia is rife, and no one bats an eyelid over it in the industry. Many men freely admit to it.
Women are simply allowed to be raped in the entertainment and music industry. I was held hostage and raped and then unceremoniously dumped at the airport just in time for a flight to Australia. Speaking to a therapist about it she said that if I had alerted the airport police to the assault that I would have not been believed and would even have been hospitalized. I was at university 30 hours later in class. It was set up that way and I refused access to the police on the way to the airport. I was told to be quiet and that I couldn’t have a legal remedy to the situation. It was all covered up for mates, even fledgling people or people who were not that important had access to the “mates don’t call the police on mates” culture. Reporting a crime about people in the music industry is “uncool” and its not done. To control me the abusive men in that situation always referred to rape to have one up on me, to have control over me, stooging women and gay men so they would aid them in their abuse of human rights, larcenous and fraudulent behaviour. It was the worst time of my life and I couldn’t wait to escape. Only by refusing to have sex with people could I have “free will” but I still suffered human rights abuses. I was in another country so they could take my rights. It’s a revolting industry and I tried to close the door on that chapter of abuse, but unfortunately it was enough to create a spiral of and a cycle of abuse for the rest of my life. I had a good life, a Disney life before I met them. Initially, I wanted to become a journalist, but I was threatened and told to not, and to not tell anyone. I was ashamed of those people and of that room. I was worried that people might think that I consented to their freak-offs, their drugs and their crime sprees. Simply put it was bad for my reputation and I resumed a life trying to go into politics or to become a political wife. The imported poor white trash girls for the freak offs, I was a worker, more or less, but the number of times they reference rape as a way to shame or control me is deplorable. The other men did not cotton on to them referencing rape. I was taken behind a door, a door that was “slightly ajar’ (they think that means no legal remedy) for threats, abuse, I listened as they discussed illegal things, and when they wanted to control me they would dissociate me so that I couldn’t communicate to other men what the illegal things were, or how they were abusing, demeaning, or taking my rights behind that door. I don’t know why people are infatuated with celebrities or the music industry, I was raised around people who are wealthier than the majority of celebrities so I can’t understand why people become enamored by them. I can’t stand them. Celebrity is fools gold. It’s just folly.
It is very well known that there are so many male celebrities who have raped women, or who have committed crimes, yet we call out those celebrities who are rude to staff or who were rude to a waiter. The crimes go unreported. Why? The crimes are unreported because men who commit crimes (music industry or not) have built fiefdoms. They make themselves untouchable. People who yell at waiters or who demand high standards have no need to construct a fiefdom. People who have broken laws need fiefdoms so they can’t be subjected to the late justice of the Me Too movement, they need fiefdoms so that they can’t be cancelled. If they are willing to commit crimes, they are willing to commit fraud, they are willing to lie. Celebrity by its nature attracts people with Anti-Social Personality Disorders, Sociopathy, and narcissism. It attracts people who want to be worshipped, or who want to be untouchable. People who are Workplace Psychopaths, good-looking ones, go far in the industry. I can’t stand celebrities or the notion of celebrity. I’ll leave it to the anaesthetized and the easily impressed. People are asleep and they are sheep. Never ask to meet your heros.