The problem with the #MeToo hashtag

The #MeToo hashtag has always bothered me – not because of what it represents, but because of the specific words chosen to highlight it.

Tanara Burke came up with the hashtag in 2006 to shine a light on the pervasive nature of abuse against women. In Burke’s words: “What we need to be talking about is the everyday woman, man, trans person, child and disabled person. All the people who are not rich, white and famous, who deal with sexual violence on an everyday basis.

That’s a laudable goal. I’m all for it. But is it really the best way to convey the message?

I want to suggest it isn’t, because it implies a sort of bandwagon effect.

“Whoa! Hold it right there, buddy. Are you accusing women who are using #MeToo of simply jumping on a bandwagon?”

Not at all.

I am not accusing ANY woman of doing this. Nor am I downplaying or questioning in any way their experiences. What I’m saying is that the wording of the hashtag may actually blunt the horror of their individual experiences and detract from the courage it’s taken to overcome them.

In fact, I would argue that it’s best to avoid the appearance of encouraging a bandwagon effect because naysayers who want to discredit the message will USE that as an excuse to do so. I’m not a naysayer. On the contrary, my goal is precisely the opposite: to encourage human beings to talk about their struggles, whether they involve abuse, discrimination, the denial of health care, war trauma, bullying, or anything else.

The power of individual stories

As any good writer will tell you, individual stories about people we know are the most powerful way of conveying messages. I can remember watching the Olympic Games as a child and enjoying the individual “Up Close and Personal” profiles of the athletes. They became more than just representatives of this or that country to be added to medal counts at the end of the day. They were real people with real stories. I cared about them more because I knew them.

If you hear that a million people have died from COVID, your eyes may glaze over. But your reaction will be far different if your next-door neighbor dies: someone you’ve known for years, whose kids attend the same school as yours, who’s brought potato salad to your neighborhood barbecues. Individual stories carry weight and power that group statements like “me too” simply cannot.

Of course, it’s impossible to tell an entire story in a hashtag.

“Me too” could refer to anything. It only came to mean what it does because actor Alyssa Milano spread it on Twitter 11 years after Burke first used it, and it has been used consistently in that context since then.

But what if different words had been chosen – words that emphasized the individual nature and pain of abuse, and the courage it takes to stand up in the face of it? If you say #FuckCancer, everyone knows what you’re talking about. Why not something like #AbuseSurvivor or #FightAbuse?

If enough people start using ANY hashtag, you won’t need to say “me too,” because there will be a lot of “me’s” saying it.

Yes, it does highlight the scope of the problem, but I believe it’s the DEPTH of the problem and how it affects individual lives that’s most important – that and the courage it takes to overcome it, for which I have nothing but admiration.

Stephen H. Provost is the author of “50 Undefeated,” profiling individuals who have overcome bullying, abuse, and bigotry in all its forms.