I used to be a lawyer — and while this story in particular wasn’t the whole reason why I decided to stop being a lawyer, it certainly didn’t help. I had forgotten all about it until a few days ago, when a group of friends was sharing their #MeToo stories. I had to think hard about it. Nothing specific came to mind until I remembered this awkward thing that happened back in 2010, when I was still a lawyer.
As a lawyer, I worked at a few firms, one of them was one of the biggest in the country. It was full of nice interns, know-it-alls, amazing people, and a few rotten apples. One of the latter decided to talk to me for the first time ever at the firm’s holiday party. I was young, dealing with my uncle’s recent and unexpected passing, and drunk — I decided the office holiday party was the best moment to let go of all the stress and just have a good time with my work friends.
Rotten apple guy came up to me after the party had been going on for a while. As I mentioned before, I was drunk, and so was he. We started talking about dumb things, people we both knew, small talk. After about 15 minutes he made his move. “Why don’t we go upstairs, get a room.” Did I forget to mention the party was held at a very luxurious hotel? I was immediately taken aback by his request — he was just so matter-of-factly about it, like he had asked that same question more than once.
I froze and gave an excuse. “I have a boyfriend,” I said. “I have a wife, but nobody is going to tell them,” he replied. I knew he had a wife, he was a newlywed, actually. And suddenly, instead worrying about myself in that moment, I started thinking about his wife. His poor wife. I fell so sad, so sick, so grossed out for her.
I said a firm “no” and just left. Went to the restroom to calm down, then I found my friends and kept on partying like nothing had happened.
I don’t think I ever told anyone. To me, it was just an occupational hazard of being a woman. I quit the law firm a few months after the incident, and I changed careers a couple of years after that. The awkward moment at the holiday party was completely erased from my memory — or archived deep, deep down, right next to my lines from that first grade play.
It wasn’t until the #MeToo movement began that I started questioning, remembering, realizing I had, inadvertently, been a part of it for years. I had taken every stare, every uncomfortable moment at night clubs, at bars, at school, at work, on the street, as part of being a woman; as a reason why I shouldn’t be wearing a mini skirt and high heels. Fortunately, it never went further than insane propositions, but that doesn’t make it okay either.
For years, women have normalized the disgusting conduct of men around us. We have swept it under the carpet and kept going with our — oppressed in many ways — lives. But things are finally changing. Victims everywhere have raised their voices without fear, to make the world a better place for them, for us, for our children. And now, there’s no turning back.