Women attend a #Metoo rally in front of the Trump International Hotel on December 9, 2017, in Columbus Circle, New York City. (Photo: Andrew Lichtenstein / Corbis via Getty Images)
In the #MeToo moment, the policing of those who speak up about varying forms of sexual violence and harm remains: The good victim/bad victim, real victim/fake victim paradigm has not gone away; it has merely shifted. And even then, not by much.
The significance of #MeToo was that it highlighted how so many of us have been affected by different forms of sexual violence, rupturing the notion that sexual violence only happens between a small and silent minority. It showed how deeply sexual violence is embedded into so many different interactions, workplaces, industries and our culture as a whole, operating in plain sight all along. While many already knew this through personal experience, it has still been a noteworthy time because of how publicly many survivors have been sharing their stories and demanding to be heard. However, while many claim to support the sentiments expressed by #MeToo, some remain steadfast in the belief that in order for sexual violence to count, it must be exceptionally and violently clear-cut. It must be real sexual violence, real rape, real rapists, real victims: otherwise, it’s a distraction, a watering-down, an appropriation, opportunism, a lack of personal responsibility, attention-seeking, or inauthentic.
Over the last week I’ve seen people writing that “Grace” and her account of her experiences with Aziz Ansari “cheapen” the #MeToo movement and what actual rape victims go through. It was just a bad date that she regretted. Why didn’t she just leave then? I’ve heard people say that she didn’t know what she wanted, but after the fact, was unhappy with what she got. I’ve also been seeing people say that because they believe Grace is white, her narrative is one of privilege and is therefore, suspect (a position I find harmful, not because I care what race she is, but…