My #MeToo Moment

People/Men are clueless. Wait, let me reword that. Less people/men have a clue than you imagine.

Let’s take my high school boyfriend who assaulted me, for instance. I GUARANTEE that if someone were to say to him, Michelle wrote a book about a girl in high school who has an abusive boyfriend, he would be completely shocked and in denial that it was him. I’m sure he does not think of himself as abusive. He moved right on, after I broke up with him, and immediately started dating the woman he married, who I assume he abuses, because he also abused the two women he dated before me (women talk; we compared notes after the fact). Who knows, maybe he changed. It changed me. I was in denial about the abuse, too, until I forgave. I still suspect my abuser would be shocked that I considered him to be abusive, and would deny that abuse happened. Call it a blackout or white light rage episode, and realize that we all perceive things differently.

Luckily, we are here to tell the truth about all of you. I wrote the book about my #MeToo experience (How Good It Can Be) and published it in 2015. No one wanted to hear it, my own personal truth. My family discouraged me from publishing. No one in my family talks about my assault, asks about #MeToo, or knows what a pink pussy hat is. Writing the book was an act of forgiveness, of him, of them.

#MeToo helped me heal, even if I was still doing it completely alone (but in solidarity with strangers online). Even now, I’ve naturally defaulted to the harsh reality I was raised in, where we still live—that admitting your abuse is weak and not to be spoken of (and NEVER play the victim)—however, I have much more compassion for myself and others as we get on with it.