On October 15 last year, Tarana Burke went to sleep unaware her life was about to change. At 9.21 that night, actor Alyssa Milano reacted to allegations of sexual assault that had surfaced against Harvey Weinstein, tweeting: "If you've been sexually harassed or assaulted write 'me too' as a reply
#MeToo was never a push to lock up men
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Rose McGowan (left) and Tarana Burke. Photo / AP
"How can we live in a world where 12 million people engage with a single hashtag representing their experience with sexual violence in 24 hours - and we're still here?" laments Burke, whose concern about the speed of a tweet, versus the slow building of a movement, was clear all along. "How did everything not just stop at that point? How did everyone not just say: 'Wait ... we knew sexual violence was a problem, but not on this scale?'"
I suggest the answer to that lies in the Hollywood birthing of that hashtag - that as A-listers took ownership of the movement, ordinary people began to feel it was an elitist cause. "Yes, that's true," Burke nods, sadly. "And now #MeToo seems to have been defined as the public naming and taking down of powerful men. And the people who a year ago were brave enough to come out and say 'me too' have been virtually ignored - forgotten. Well, not by me: because my work isn't just the movement I founded 12 years ago but supporting the people who said those two words over the past 12 months."
Last week, Burke, Amanda de Cadenet, Glennon Doyle, Tracee Ellis Ross and America Ferrera voiced support to Professor Christine Blasey Ford by writing her an open "love letter".

"It's so depressing!" she says of Kavanaugh's confirmation. "If you look at Kavanaugh, he was a privileged kid, he went to a good school, he had exclusive circles of friends - very few people probably said 'no' to him. And the lack of that 'no' is where the power and privilege starts to build.
"So I feel like you can draw a line between Kavanaugh the teenager, who is drinking heavily and accused of sexual assault, to the older Kavanaugh, who thinks that he can make decisions about women's bodies for them."
When asked about the kind of a precedent Kavanaugh's "non-trial" could set, given how little evidence there would ever be of such an incident 36 years on, she says we need to stop thinking of everything "in terms of crime and punishment. This was not an effort to have him arrested. This was an effort to shed light on the character of an individual.
"And Me Too has never had a massive push to lock people up for what they did years ago - unless, like Bill Cosby, you're a serial rapist. Even in those first Weinstein articles, there was nothing in there about taking him down."
That "ordinary" men can feel aggrieved for any high-profile man denounced for his alleged treatment of women baffles her. "And my question to the men who think Me Too is garbage would be this: 'How many men who have been "falsely accused" in this past year do you know personally?' Because it's one of those things that becomes halfway true if you say it enough."
For Me Too - both the hashtag and the movement - to live up to its promise, we have "a lot of unlearning to do," insists Burke.
"People still don't understand sexual violence ... I'm just going to make sure the second year of #MeToo is about the survivors - not the perpetrators."