I was sixteen when I was sexually harassed as I walked into a church sanctuary for a Sunday morning worship service. My offender? A deacon. A respected elder of the church who handed me a paper bulletin that morning. By the time I realized what had happened, I was surrounded by the holy silence of the church’s sanctuary atmosphere. This all took place in an echoing room that was literally named refuge, haven, and shelter...a room intended to be a safe place.

I was seventeen years old when the closest man in my life physically assaulted me in front of my mother. The man I had respected for his patience let petty anger manifest itself in a raging attack.

I did not strike back. My parents taught me to be respectful of my elders, but that’s not why I didn’t immediately have something to say to shame the elder who assaulted me that morning in church. I didn’t swear at him, but it wasn’t because I was in a peaceful and quiet place of worship. I didn’t hit or shove my attacker when he lunged at me. But it wasn’t because in that moment I loved him or trusted him. 

Fear. Confusion. Shock….shame. 

Well, there you are. My credentials. I find it disturbing that I feel like in order to have a voice in this matter, I have to have experienced a certain level of offense. But every story matters. The applicability of this movement is not limited to those who have been affected by the plundering of the female gender and the sexual objectification of women. We all make mistakes, and we are all responsible for those mistakes. We all witness it; we all live with offenders. 

We still live in a culture where reputation precedes the truth. Where the public outweighs the private, and dirty, cheating, abusive men can live their lives in the limelight of an image they have built around themselves. Where daughters and employees, subordinates and assistants must live as sheep to be slaughtered by the fraudulent chivalry of masochistic men. 

I realize the danger of generalizing, of categorizing people into harmful stereotypes. I would like to acknowledge the system and the downsides of the medium I am using to communicate my point.  The rhetoric of this cycle is not lost to me. But this very same rhetoric is what prevented myself, as I am sure many other women, from speaking the truth. I didn’t come forward with my experience because I didn’t think people would believe me. You were harassed? By whom? Model citizen, outstanding father, principled deacon, patient man, respected elder. My offenders' pacifying facade caused me to question my own sanity.

And just like that, all too soon after a change began, excuses are being made and exceptions are insisted upon. A yellow flag has been thrown! There is a review of the play! Not all men are like that. Chivalry is a good thing. What was she wearing? Feminism has gone too far. 

But I say it cannot go far enough in the society we live in. 

This is only the beginning of a long war. The battlefield? The workforce, the home, the church. The cost? Legal bills, relationship wounds, public attention, victimization, time, courage, etc. The end? Equality, safety, and enriching environments--sanctuaries--for every person, regardless of race, gender, and religion. 

This movement shouldn’t stop in the workforce, it is not limited to the home, and it is certainly applicable to the most devout and upstanding church. While this is not just one for the history books, I will teach my children about the legacy of the women who sought empowerment. I will recount to them the camaraderie, empathy, and pride I felt when I listened to the women of Hollywood tell their stories.

So why do I sit here, typing out my opinion about something that began over a year ago, after so many brave women have come forward to tell their stories? Are not their voices enough? Isn’t one round of #metoo on social media enough to make a point? For some, maybe. 

But I’m not satisfied with that. I don’t want my children to read about the year 2017 in their history books as a year that the perspective for women in the workforce, women in Hollywood, and women in the home changed. Because it doesn’t happen in a year. It takes decades, and it is worth a lifetime of social justice action. 

I vow to educate my children and raise them to stand together with pride and dignity, so that they, along with the women of this age, will be an unbreakable force that demands, fights for, and protects the self-preservation of every female. 

When the #metoo posts were trending on my social media accounts, I was not ready to come forward with my story. But I propose that this is not simply a trend. It’s not a viral social media tactic brilliantly grouped and categorized by hashtags. It’s not a color choice for an academy awards presentation. A movement? Perhaps that is what it begins with. Am I too late to join? I think not. 

#metoo. 

#untilamovementbecomesareality