The #MeToo Moment
We are in a moment when feminism is popular, at least in an Anglo-American context (Banet-Weiser 2018). This new-found popularity predates October 2017 and a number of critics have documented how feminist concepts and arguments have permeated mainstream media discourse in the 2010s. Kate Manne, for instance, has noted the increasing prevalence of âmisogynyâ in news headlines (2018: 31), whilst Nickie D. Phillips (2017: 13â15) found a 1871% increase in the use of the term ârape cultureâ in newspaper and magazine articles between 2010 and 2014. Other touchstones in accounts of feminismâs resurgent popularity are BeyoncĂ©âs performance against the giant, illuminated word FEMINIST at the MTV Music Video Awards, and actor Emma Watsonâs speech at the UN Women #HeForShe campaign launch, both in 2014 (Banet-Weiser 2018: 6â9; Rottenberg 2018: 10â11). Merriam-Webster declared feminism the word of the year in 2017, identifying the Womenâs March in January, the release of the television series The Handmaidâs Tale (Hulu 2017) and the film Wonder Woman (dir. Patty Jenkins 2017), as well as #MeToo, as key moments driving online searches for âfeminismâ.
It is not accidental that these indicators of feminismâs popularity are all centrally about the mediation of feminismâhow feminism is understood in and through popular media texts and platforms. Indeed, in Empowered: Popular Feminism and Popular Misogyny, Sarah Banet-Weiser argues that popular feminism âgenerally materializes as a kind of media that is widely visible and accessibleâ (2018: 9). Banet-Weiserâs cogent analysis points to the feminist work which can be done in and through the popular media, whilst also acknowledging the ways in which popular feminism can be profoundly ambivalent for a wider feminist politics, at least in part because of the emphasis on visibility over action. Popular feminism in this iteration is fundamentally about being seenâas a feminist, supporting feminist issuesârather than, necessarily, about doing feminism. Moreover, the feminisms which become popularâand visibleâare those which âdo not challenge deep structures of inequitiesâ (Banet-Weiser 2018: 11). These are feminisms of the individual rather than the collective, what Catherine Rottenberg (2018) describes as neoliberal feminism. Like Banet-Weiser, Rottenberg is concerned with how feminism becomes a mainstream story and the ways in which this distorts wider feminist histories of activism, research and debate.
The popular mediation of feminism has long been a concern for feminist activists as well as media scholars. Womenâs liberation movement publications from the early 1970s consistently referenced âthe mediaâ as a site of possibilityâand concernâfor feminists. British movement publications often reprinted stories from the national press as sources of information about issues concerning feminists, whilst simultaneously debating the benefits and limitations for the movement in engaging with these same mainstream media organisations. For instance, the first issue of the Womenâs Liberation Workshop journal Shrew devotes a number of pages to the relationship of the movement to the âbourgeois pressâ which, it notes in its cover story, âhas expressed a great deal of interest in womenâs liberationâ (Shrew 1970). On the one hand, it was widely recognised that this kind of engagement could open up the movement to a wider range of women, a precursor of Banet-Weiserâs concern with feminismâs popularity. On the other, media representation was not always positive and feminists in both the UK and US were understandably suspicious of journalistsâ motivations and often frustrated by their insistence on individualising the collective ethos of the movement by constructing âstarsâ (Mendes 2011; Dow 2014; Sheehan 2016). As such, there has long been a recognition that the discursive construction of feminism has only ever been partly within feministsâ control.
Although this may seem like an obvious point, it is one worth returning to in relation to #MeToo. As is well-known,
#MeToo began trending after a tweet from US actor Alyssa
Milano on October 15:
Me Too.
Suggested by a friend: âIf all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote âMe Tooâ as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problemâ.
(@AlyssaMilano, 15 October, 2017)
Within just 24 hours, 12 million
Facebook posts using the hashtag were written or shared and within 48 hours the hashtag had been shared nearly a million times on
Twitter (Lawton
2017). Milanoâs initial aim for #MeToo was to âgive people a sense of the magnitude of the problemâ. In other words, it was discursive activism, aiming to change what âsexual harassment and assaultâ means by expanding the understanding of who its victims/survivors are. As a collectively produced story about sexual harassment and
assault (Serisier
2018: 101), it hasâin many waysâachieved Milanoâs goal, although, as we will see, a counter-narrative or
backlash has existed alongside #MeToo virtually from the outset.
It is important to emphasise that #MeToo is indivisible from the media platforms through which it has circulated. For better and for worse, #MeToo is networked feminism: a feminism made possible by the affordances of the social media platforms on which it circulates. Echoing Banet-Weiserâs arguments about popular feminism and visibility, the very repetitions of #MeToo are at times read as constituting a movement in and of themselves. For instance, Me Too Rising (https://âmetoorising.âwithgoogle.âcom) is a fascinating resource which maps searches for #MeToo across time and place, allowing us to see patterns in the global development of the #MeToo story over time. However, Me Too Rising is presented as âa visualization of the movement from Google Trendsâ: equating online searching for #MeToo with activism, and confining the movement to the platform. In addition, Me Too Rising also allows you to look at where #MeToo is trending at any given time, and these trends typically link to mainstream news outlets.
This example demonstrates that Me Too is not only networked feminism: it is also a mainstream news story, involving many competing voices attempting to determine, assert and limit the meanings and significance of the outpouring of evidence of gendered violence and harassment associated with the hashtag. These stories mayâas Banet-Weiserâs analysis of popular feminism demonstratesâdo feminist work, but focusing simply on the most visible stories as representative of contemporary feminism is profoundly distorting. Visibility and movement are not synonymous, as the Tufnell Park Womenâs Liberation Workshop recognised in 1970:
We can be so written about and give so many interviews that we can be deceived into thinking that there is a movement when all weâre doing is dealing with the press and TV. (Tufnell Park Womenâs Liberation Workshop 1970: 4)
This is one reason why reading critiques of #MeToo can be a frustrating experience. Important points about the way the #MeToo story has evolved (including, for instance, the centring of economically and racially privileged US women in mainstream media coverage) are used to argue for the limitations of #MeToo as a feminist movement. When this happens, we allow mainstream media to define what feminism is, and miss an opportunity to hold them accountable. In this sense, it is important to investigate #MeToo not only as a facet of digital feminist
activism (Mendes et al.
2019), but also as an object of mainstream media commentary.
Although what was to become #MeToo originated with Milano and her (unnamed) friend, Me Too as a feminist rallying cry and a movement did not. The Me Too movement was founded by Tarana Burke in 2006. For Burke, Me Too was an intersectional demand for support and recognition for young women of colour who had experienced sexual abuse, as well as a statement of solidarity (Burke n.d.). Burkeâs version of Me Too was n...