The morning after the #metoo movement swarmed the internet, everything was slightly blurry.

I remember opening Facebook and seeing a flood of posts with the hashtag followed by the words, me too. When I saw it and began reading post after post, I was immediately catapulted back to some of my darkest memories. Stories from women and men I know and love, stories of my own. Immediately they all melted together becoming one large boulder that crashed on me, crushing my chest. It felt surreal to see so many secrets, ones I kept for others and ones I kept from others, suddenly exposed and out for everyone to embrace.

It was frightening and liberating all at the same time.

Although it should have been a happy moment, a moment of success and progress for myself and fellow survivors, it took me a moment to get there.

This moment sent chills down my body and I felt numb reading the experiences of others and ultimately, through them, I vicariously began reliving my own experiences. And then, as I scrolled down multiple social media platforms I saw post after post stating “ #metoo.“ At first, I just felt sick. Sick to know the pain I’ve faced, the pain that never leaves is embedded in so many other people. But then that same exact thought brought me solace.

The fear and the pain that had paralyzed my body slowly began to loosen as I felt some sort of relief. Relief to know that I am not alone, and there is a community of survivors behind me. It became almost as if every #metoo contributed a piece to a large undefined, unmentioned yet visible family.

I became grateful, undeniably thankful that just one person with the capability to speak up did. Because the first person to do that began this empowerment. And with that courage and bravery, it opened the floodgates. Through this valiant act, all and any person is able to connect.

What we don’t realize is the power of that connection is what set forth the fire that has yet to be put out. Through the connection, we, myself and others, feel almost compelled to speak out as well because, through the actions of this community, we have gained a voice. A voice that has been silenced by society for, well, forever.

Our society quiets us. It likes to trick us and tell us we all have a voice. But then, when we do decide to speak up we become labeled and marked off as damaged goods and shipped away to isolation. It’s the labels that create fear and ultimately squeeze our voice until it hurts to even think the thought.

And maybe that’s why it hurt at first to read so many stories that felt so similar to my own.

Because where does that leave us now? What does that mean for me in society?

Are we just going to be passed off as another label of rape and sexual harassment?

No.

When I was able to take that societal influenced thought and silence it I was able to allow the voice that matters to speak up.

That voice helps you realize we are more than the memories and people who have wronged us. We now have something that unites and connects us with so many strangers.

This common bond, although unfortunate, has been brought to the stage in such a way that forces people to look and listen. It shines a light on what has happened and that it is NOT okay.

To educate people that none of it is alright and that each and every single one of our bodies is our own. Not at disposal for the rest of the world to take. It forces people to embrace this harsh reality and do something with it. Whether that be to listen a little harder or care a little gentler.

This movement has forced others and me to acknowledge what has been done to us and to recognize we are more and we have a power to our voices.

We ARE more. We ARE strong. We ARE fighters.