Emboldened by Judd, Rose McGowan and a host of other prominent accusers, women everywhere have begun to speak out about the inappropriate, abusive and in some cases illegal behavior they've faced. When multiple harassment claims bring down a charmer like former Today show host Matt Lauer, women who thought they had no recourse see a new, wide-open door. When a movie star says MeToo, it becomes easier to believe the cook who's been quietly enduring for years. Judd says she was sexually harassed by Harvey Weinstein when she was 29 years old.
It's an ingenious way that we've tried to keep ourselves safe. All those voices can be amplified. That's my advice to women. That and if something feels wrong, it is wrong—and it's wrong by my definition and not necessarily someone else's. Weinstein said in a statement he 'never laid a glove' on Judd. The women and men who have broken their silence span all races, all income classes, all occupations and virtually all corners of the globe. They're part of a movement that has no formal name.
But now they have a voice. In a windowless room at a two-story soundstage in San Francisco's Mission District, a group of women from different worlds met for the first time. Judd, every bit the movie star in towering heels, leaned in to shake hands with Isabel Pascual, a woman from Mexico who works picking strawberries and asked to use a pseudonym to protect her family.
Beside her, Susan Fowler, a former Uber engineer, eight months pregnant, spoke softly with Adama Iwu, a corporate lobbyist in Sacramento. A young hospital worker who had flown in from Texas completed the circle. She too is a victim of sexual harassment but was there anonymously, she said, as an act of solidarity to represent all those who could not speak out.
From a distance, these women could not have looked more different. Their ages, their families, their religions and their ethnicities were all a world apart. Their incomes differed not by degree but by universe: Iwu pays more in rent each month than Pascual makes in two months.
But on that November morning, what separated them was less important than what brought them together: a shared experience. Over the course of six weeks, TIME interviewed dozens of people representing at least as many industries, all of whom had summoned extraordinary personal courage to speak out about sexual harassment at their jobs.
They often had eerily similar stories to share. In almost every case, they described not only the vulgarity of the harassment itself—years of lewd comments, forced kisses, opportunistic gropes—but also the emotional and psychological fallout from those advances. Almost everybody described wrestling with a palpable sense of shame. Had she somehow asked for it? Could she have deflected it? Was she making a big deal out of nothing? Why didn't I react? She remembers the shirt she was wearing that day.
She can still feel the heat of her harasser's hands on her body. Millions of people responded with the hashtag MeToo when Milano urged them to post their experiences on Twitter. I don't know if I'll ever be the same. I have not stopped crying. I look at my daughter and think, Please, let this be worth it. Please, let it be that my daughter never has to go through anything like this. Burke, founder of a nonprofit that helps survivors of sexual violence, created the Me Too movement in to encourage young women to show solidarity with one another.
It went viral this year after actor Alyssa Milano used the hashtag MeToo. And I think it's really powerful that this transfer is happening, that these women are able not just to share their shame but to put the shame where it belongs: on the perpetrator. Nearly all of the people TIME interviewed about their experiences expressed a crushing fear of what would happen to them personally, to their families or to their jobs if they spoke up.
For some, the fear was born of a threat of physical violence. Pascual felt trapped and terrified when her harasser began to stalk her at home, but felt she was powerless to stop him.
If she told anyone, the abuser warned her, he would come after her or her children. Those who are often most vulnerable in society—immigrants, people of color, people with disabilities, low-income workers and LGBTQ people—described many types of dread. If they raised their voices, would they be fired? Would their communities turn against them?
Would they be killed? After director James Toback denied accusations by dozens of women that he had sexually assaulted them, Blair spoke out about her encounter with him. He called the women liars. But their stories were so similar to mine, and they were such credible women. There was no agenda other than they wanted to share this story, be free of this story. And in a magazine interview, he called the people who said this about him 'c-nts' and 'c-cksuckers.
And I wanted to give a face to these now more than women who have come out. Juana Melara, who has worked as a hotel housekeeper for decades, says she and her fellow housekeepers didn't complain about guests who exposed themselves or masturbated in front of them for fear of losing the paycheck they needed to support their families. Melara recalls "feeling the pressure of someone's eyes" on her as she cleaned a guest's room. When she turned around, she remembers, a man was standing in the doorway, blocked by the cleaning cart, with his erect penis exposed.
She yelled at the top of her lungs and scared him into leaving, then locked the door behind him. While guests come and go, some employees must continue to work side by side with their harassers. Crystal Washington was thrilled when she was hired as a hospitality coordinator at the Plaza, a storied hotel whose allure is as strong for people who want to work there as it is for those who can afford a suite. But then, she says, a co-worker began making crude remarks to her like "I can tell you had sex last night" and groping her.
One of those encounters was even caught on camera, but the management did not properly respond, her lawyers say. I have an year-old daughter, and she's depending on me,' says Lewis, who still works at the hotel to make ends meet.
I wasn't really left with the option of leaving. I'm not left with the option of giving up. I want to show her that it's O. If you keep fighting, eventually you'll see the sun on the other side.
Washington has joined with six other female employees to file a sexual-harassment suit against the hotel. But she cannot afford to leave the job and says she must force herself out of bed every day to face the man she's accused. Other women, like the actor Selma Blair, weathered excruciating threats. Blair says she arrived at a hotel restaurant for a meeting with the independent film director James Toback in only to be told that he would like to see her in his room.
There, she says, Toback told her that she had to learn to be more vulnerable in her craft and asked her to strip down. She took her top off. She says he then propositioned her for sex, and when she refused, he blocked the door and forced her to watch him masturbate against her leg.
Afterward, she recalls him telling her that if she said anything, he would stab her eyes out with a Bic pen and throw her in the Hudson River. Blair says Toback lorded the encounter over her for decades. Many of the people who have come forward also mentioned a different fear, one less visceral but no less real, as a reason for not speaking out: if you do, your complaint becomes your identity. The Besh Group says it is implementing new policies to create a culture of respect.
Besh apologized for "unacceptable behavior" and "moral failings," and resigned from the company. Iwu, the lobbyist, says she considered the same risks after she was groped in front of several colleagues at an event. She was shocked when none of her male co-workers stepped in to stop the assault. The next week, she organized women to sign an open letter exposing harassment in California government.
When she told people about the campaign, she says they were wary. After the Oregon state senator accused her fellow legislator Jeff Kruse of sexual harassment, the statehouse launched an investigation and stripped him of his committee assignments. And that means we have to be willing to speak out when it's a member of our own party. Kruse said in a statement that he never touched Gelser inappropriately.
The mother of two told the HR department at the hospital where she worked that an executive there repeatedly came on to her. Why couldn't I force words out of my mouth?
When I got home, I crumbled. I kept thinking, Did I do something, did I say something, did I look a certain way to make him think that was O. Taylor Swift says she was made to feel bad about the consequences that her harasser faced. After she complained about a Denver radio DJ named David Mueller, who reached under her skirt and grabbed her rear end, Mueller was fired.
He sued Swift for millions in damages. Mueller's lawyer asked her, on the witness stand, whether she felt bad that she'd gotten him fired. Not mine. Actors and writers and journalists and dishwashers and fruit pickers alike: they'd had enough. What had manifested as shame exploded into outrage.
Fear became fury. She reported him to his radio station, KYGO, and he was terminated. He said her accusations were false and sued Swift.
Police carried out the house-to-house operations in Kisumu, as well as villages in Kisumu and Siaya counties. Residents of the village of Dago said that on the night of August 11, police officers attached to the Dago police post, 25 kilometers north of Kisumu, started firing at villagers strolling on the road, unaware of the protests in other parts of Kisumu. In the process, they said a police officer shot year-old Vincent Omondi Ochieng, who was working with Elections Observations Group ELOG , a Kenyan organization that has observed the past two elections.
It was the third shot that killed him. While Human Rights Watch confirmed the killings described above, the death toll in Kisumu county could be higher. Many witnesses and family members were afraid of speaking up or even going to the hospital, while others said they could not immediately establish the whereabouts of their relatives. In Nyalenda, a family said it could not trace two young men three days after initial protests. In Siaya county, demonstrations also turned violent as police dispersed protesters and carried out search operations in the villages.
Evidence given to Human Rights Watch suggests that police killed two young men. His hand, head, and face were swollen. Beatings of Protesters and Residents in Kisumu On the night Kenyatta was declared the winner, the electricity went off in some parts of Kisumu, plunging residential areas into darkness just as police began door-to-door operations that targeted mainly men for attacks, according to victims of beatings interviewed by Human Rights Watch.
At least people were injured by gunshots and beatings. The officers were drawn from several counties and were ferried to Kisumu neighborhoods days before the announcement of presidential results. Plainclothes officers, whom Kisumu residents suspected to be from the directorate of criminal investigations, swarmed the neighborhoods before the demonstrations started.
They said police dispersed with teargas any groups of more than three people, even people who were not protesters. House-to-house operations began soon after the electricity went off. They then went to the neighbor where they beat a lady there and her brother. They were hitting mainly the joints — knee, shoulder, arms, head, and back. They stepped on me for a while and then left me lying there, unable to walk. They broke my rib.
On August 17, officials of a makeshift Disaster Management Center told Human Rights Watch that they had registered an additional 92 victims of police beatings and shootings who were yet to seek treatment at any hospital due to fear of reprisal.
Others cannot walk or eat at all and they will need urgent medical attention. A year-old girl in Arina said that on the same day police kicked the door to their house open and started beating her with gun butts and batons and stepping on her. Please contact us for subscription options. Biden, China's Xi to hold virtual meeting on Monday: reports. Troika Plus expresses concern over humanitarian crisis in Afghanistan. It is therefore no surprise that the opposition Nasa coalition is now calling for a new team to manage the next elections.
This is also a setback for the international, and some local, election observers, who profusely praised the election as free, fair and credible. Regardless of the winners and losers following the ruling, this is a proud moment for Kenya.
The litigation and debate on the merits of the election was done at the Supreme Court and not on the streets. Chief Justice Maraga said it best in his opening statement: "The greatness of a nation lies in its fidelity to the constitution and the strict adherence to the rule of law. Reaction to judges' ruling. Kenyatta, 'digital president'. Odinga - Kenya's veteran opponent. This video can not be played To play this video you need to enable JavaScript in your browser.
A Kenyan opposition stronghold celebrates the decision. What next for Kenya after void election? The brave judge who made Kenyan history Friday's events as they happened. What did the judges say was wrong? Justice Maraga declares the election "invalid, null and void". How have the two political sides reacted? Image source, AFP.
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