The "Me Too" Issue

EDITOR'S NOTE:

Working with Anne on this week’s Issue was incredibly eye-opening for me. It was eye-opening in the way that much of this project has been - in that it has forced me once again to reconsider my experiences and the way they fit within a larger story.

​Like most people, I am prone to making assumptions, to projecting my own opinions and ideas upon others and their personal narratives. As Anne and I spoke more about her trauma, and about the way that she dealt with it over the last several decades, I came to realize that so many of my preconceptions were wrong - or at least that they didn’t quite fit. I came to understand a meaning of privilege apart from those I already try to recognize: that of growing up a twenty-something in 2020, when, thanks to movements like Me Too, women are encouraged to speak up, to pursue whatever career path they choose, and to seek and demand value outside of their physical appearances.

There is no fine line between 1986 and 2020, no black-and-white distinction between treatment of sexual assault victims then and now. No one snapped their fingers and made things perfect for women and girls. But things are getting better. They are getting better slowly, thanks to all of the women and allies who came before us.

Anne is our first contributor above the age of 26. The minute we started working on this piece, I realized just how crucial a voice we had been missing. While most of our earlier contributors have only had a few years to contemplate their trauma, Anne has had over three decades to observe how one moment sent shock waves in every direction: it altered her career, her self-image, and her sense of trust and security. 

Speaking with her about her experience was deeply educational and deeply emotional for me. I was struck by her seemingly conflicting messages of minimizing her trauma and describing its lifelong effects. But I think that is sort of what the Me Too Movement is all about: women sharing trauma that is simultaneously common and of critical importance. And that’s what Anne told me, placing her story within the broader context of Harvey Weinstein and the ensuing social media wave: “It’s just another story about another creepy man who crushed your dreams.”

-ASB

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​THE ONLY ONE - Anne Flinn Powell

CW: sexual assault, strong language

It was 1986. A young twenty-something, I was just starting to feel alive. I was a college grad, I’d found my people, and I had started embarking on a career that I thought would last me the rest of my life.

I became an entrepreneur before I even knew what the word meant. I was living in the Cayman Islands on my own, videotaping tourists scuba diving way before that sort of videography became popular. I was quickly creating a name for myself in the scuba industry and had just been featured on the cover of Scuba Diver Magazine. I was rolling.

I was recruited by a leading travel-video company out of Houston. They were big, and they were growing, moving into a content space that had yet been little explored.

I was barely twenty-four, but I was ambitious and hard working and I knew I was onto something with underwater video production and filming - and I was one of the first girls to work as a divemaster on the island. I was a cute, spunky New Yorker, tan from living on the beach and super fit from hauling tanks across the sand and swimming all day. It was the most exciting time of my life.

So, when the owner of the company molested me at his house, days after moving to Houston for the new job, the shock that ran through my bones was indescribable on every level. The experience changed me forever.

I was staying at John’s home while waiting for an apartment to open up later in the week. He had a big house with a spare bedroom, a tennis court, a Mercedes in the garage, two beautiful children, and a beautiful wife. He attended church every Sunday.

While his wife was in the next room over, he came to the guest room and sat next to me on the bed. He said I looked sad. I explained that I had left all my friends for the new job. He put his glass of red wine down on the chest of drawers and sat way too close to me. He then put his arm around my back and before I knew it, he was hoisting me onto his lap while simultaneously rubbing my breasts. He kept saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I jumped up and pushed him away, incredulous at what was happening. I was strong, so it was easy to break free. My New Yorker kicked in; I don’t remember if words came out, but either my face or my words said, “Get the fuck out!”

He walked out of the room and then I just sat there, stunned, thinking:

What just happened?!

Oh my God, I am so trapped. I can’t yell. I can’t punch him. I can’t leave. I can’t tell his wife. I have no friends nearby. I don’t have a car.

This was thirty-five years ago. We had no cell phones. I felt disgusted, invaded, angry, trapped.

Later, more thoughts:

Who will ever believe me? 

It was me: twenty-four, tan, cute, single...vs. CEO, family man, church-goer. In those days, being “cute” served as the same sort of excuse that wearing suggestive clothing does today. It added up to a “diversity hire,” to “sleeping my way to the top,” to no credibility. The equation was simple: no matter what, I lost.

Everything changed after that.

People often focus on the physical repurcussions of sexual abuse or sexual invasion. But what John did shattered me much deeper at a mental and emotional level. My innocence had vanished. My faith in men doing the right thing was destroyed. I became painfully aware of women like John’s wife, who chose to turn a blind eye to such ugly truths. John had so overtly and intentionally projected an image of a church and family-man that my belief in church-goers changed overnight and - right or wrong - to this day, I see more hypocrites than believers in the pews.

My energy to spearhead the new scuba department and move on with my career was incinerated. The whole thing fell through. My direction was lost. My dreams were gone. I just wanted to go back home to my family and start over.

Before leaving, I decided that this company at least owed me one trip for my moving to Houston and dealing with John. So, I got on a trip to the Virgin Islands as a “writer.” When John came down for the first week, I was so petrified he was going to rape me at the hotel that I blocked the door with chairs and a couch and barely slept. Once he left, I was able to relax. I stayed there for a month and spent my time enjoying the beach, touring the islands, and hanging out with the younger company crew on their boat.

When I got back to Houston, I immediately submitted my resignation and never wrote one word about the trip for the company. I did that to fuck with John, and I’m pretty sure he knew it. I saw this as sweet justice, and I felt empowered by it.

I hardly told anyone - outside of a few close friends - about my experience because I didn’t want to be forced to defend my clothing, my looks, my behavior, my existence as a woman in a man’s space. I carried on as if nothing had happened, watching as John’s actions shaped my life and my choices. 

After thirty years carrying this story, the #MeToo thread hit social media. I was shocked; I had always believed that I was the only one who had been assaulted by someone like John. To suddenly find that my friends, sisters, cousins, and coworkers had dealt with the same traumas was surprising, confusing, and disgusting. In other ways, it was liberating.

Finally being able to talk about this is the most freeing thing that has ever happened to me. I’m sorry that women and girls are still dealing with sexual assault and non-consensual intimacy today. I don’t want anyone to have to go through what I experienced. But I also know that it is only going to get better and better. We’re talking now, and we’re going to keep talking. 

Talk about it. Don’t let it change your entire life, the way it did for me - the way it did for our generation. Don’t keep it in and hide your anger or your fear. Don’t give up on your dreams. Talk about it, and keep talking.

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​MORE TO THE STORY

Anne's story is one of many. Check out The Consent Issue and The Survival Issue to read three other stories by women overcoming trauma.

Tarana Burke is the founder of the Me Too Movement. In this brief essay, she explains her own personal reasons for building this movement, and for encouraging more women to speak up. To visit the Me Too homepage, click here.

For more history on the Me Too movement and the Harvey Weinstein case, read She Said, by Pulitzer Prize-winning reporters Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey. Published by Penguin Random House, this work of non-fiction tells "the thrilling untold story of [the reporters'] investigation and its consequences for the #MeToo movement" in breaking "the news of Harvey Weinstein’s sexual harassment and abuse for the New York Times."

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