As I settled into the backseat of my friend’s navy-blue sedan, I leaned closer and shared a harrowing experience that had been tormenting me while her mom drove us home. It had been two long weeks since we last saw each other, and I desperately needed her support.
That spring, after going through puberty, I visited a relative who crossed a line I should have never been forced to endure. It wasn’t the first time either; I can still remember being two years old, struggling with potty training, when he decided to join me in the bathroom.
For years, I buried the trauma deep within me, making it a habit to ignore the truth. But this time, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I had only spoken about my abuse once before, to my older sister when we were alone at home. In that moment, I felt courageous. But as soon as the words left my lips, I wanted to retract them. “Don’t tell anyone,” I pleaded. “Promise me you won’t tell Mom or Dad.” We never discussed it again.
The words of my abuser—“This is our secret”—haunted me throughout my childhood. He claimed it was because I was his favorite. The fear of exposing him kept me silent, and it felt easier to pretend it didn’t exist. But the memories crept back, disturbing my dreams and tainting my view of love. I grew fearful and depressed, unable to reconcile what I had experienced with the affection I saw portrayed in movies or between my parents. As I matured, I realized I had to confront my past; it was the only way to reclaim a part of myself that felt lost.
I found that many young girls related to my story—they, too, had faced similar horrors and had kept them hidden until they felt safe to speak. Unfortunately, our safe spaces were limited.
So many women had their lives altered as children or adults by men who couldn’t respect boundaries. Men who thought a woman’s body was theirs to control. Cowardly men who projected their demons onto the innocent, leaving them trapped in darkness. Men who believed their actions were inconsequential. Men who took pleasure in causing pain.
When we hear “Not all men,” it feels dismissive and infuriating. We don’t care who says it. Those three words completely miss the point of our struggle. Instead of focusing on why so many girls and women have suffered, the emphasis shifts to defending men’s reputations. At this moment, that is irrelevant.
Women are finally coming forward, sharing their experiences of harassment, abuse, and assault. The response of “Not all men” is not just misplaced; it’s harmful. It invalidates our experiences and makes it seem like the conversation is about you when it’s not.
The reality of our situation is jarring: how can so many women face similar traumas? It feels like a norm we refuse to accept. I won’t raise my children in a world where such experiences are brushed aside, and it’s unacceptable to suggest we should temper our truth with reassurances that not all men are culpable.
Let’s not dilute the conversation. The moment we hesitate to speak up, the moment we feel ashamed of our stories, we allow shame to win. Women have been silenced for too long. The phrase “Not all men” only serves to reinforce our fears, making it harder to break the cycle of silence.
We owe it to ourselves—to the women before us who couldn’t speak out, to those who have suffered in silence, and to the girls we see playing at recess. We owe it to our sons to teach them respect and empathy.
When someone shares their painful experience, they’re not painting a negative picture of “all men.” They’re sharing their truth. It’s time we stop minimizing the trauma that women face. We’re done with that narrative. The #MeToo movement is not about proving that not all men are bad; it’s about standing up against a culture that has long allowed such behavior to thrive.
If you’ve witnessed harassment or abuse and said nothing, if you’ve laughed off inappropriate behavior, you’re part of the problem. Instead of dismissing our trauma, consider reflecting on your role in this issue.
We know our mission, and we will not be silenced. We will not offer caveats to protect your feelings. It’s time to show our children that change is possible, starting today. Join me in this fight for truth and accountability.
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In summary, the focus must shift from defending men to understanding the pervasive issue of violence against women. Let’s stand together to foster an environment where all individuals feel safe and respected.