Most of you will know a sexual harasser. You may not have experienced sexual harassment or abuse first hand, or worked with someone who has been overtly predatory, but it's highly likely that at one point or another you will have come across a colleague, acquaintance, or friend who has victimised someone.
Think hard. The people I'm talking about are not usually like the lecherous caricature Weinstein has become. They're often widely liked and well-connected. The people who harassed and/or abused me were all strong characters, respected in their industries and loved by their friends. Most of them were people that I myself counted as friends.
The one thing that the vast majority of them had in common was that they were more powerful than I was. Sexual harassment is very rarely about sex -- it's more often about power and entitlement.
All of them were older than me, and all of them were accustomed to getting their own way, from the industry stalwart Kiwi rocker, to the influential British artist manager, to the former music industry executive -- only, in his particular case, he was actually working for me at the time. I'm not sure what I found more galling; that a much older man, married with children, was touching me inappropriately, or that I was paying him while he was doing it.
Some of these men -- the most entitled of the bunch -- may be surprised to hear how I felt when they harassed or abused me.
As a young woman in an industry that sells young women as products, gives older men extraordinary power over the livelihoods of young female artists, that has historically operated along the lines of an old boys' club, and is so notorious that it has its own popular catchphrase for looking the other way ("what goes on tour stays on tour"), I never reprimanded them, even for molesting me. I simply fled.
I often wish that I'd given them a piece of my mind -- for example, I've replayed the scene where an aged Kiwi icon met me as a 19-year-old fresh back from her first European tour, fixed me with a lascivious gaze and purred, "if only I were 20 years younger" many times in my head, always with a different sassy ending -- but to do so was to risk "creating a scene", playing into the "diva" stereotype, and humiliating them. And to humiliate them was to invite them to seek revenge and retribution. So I became very good at painting an insipid smile on my face, giggling nervously and getting the hell out of there as quickly as I could.
When I told some of my stories in this column last year, there were people who commented that my not fighting back meant that the abuse I'd experienced was somehow my fault. How were those men supposed to know that I wouldn't have slept with them if they were the last men on earth if I didn't firmly say "no", or physically throw them off me?
Here's the thing: I shouldn't have had to. I shouldn't have been put in those positions in the first place. These were not mutual workplace flirtations. These were middle-aged men coming onto a woman young enough to be their daughter (or in at least one case, granddaughter). Men who could count on me keeping my mouth shut for fear of committing career suicide.
And that's how this keeps happening. Currently, there is very little to be gained and much to be lost in speaking out about sexual harassment and abuse. While women speaking out together can shelter and buoy each other, gaining strength in numbers, sexual harassment and abuse are by their nature incredibly isolating.
When you feel alone and ashamed, and you think your abuser has the power to ruin your career, the idea of speaking out is terrifying.
So what happens now? Now that we've finally been forced to confront the fact that thousands of women (and a number of men) have been victimised?
Now we must take action.
This wave of testimony from survivors must not be a blip. We've come too far, at too high a cost, to allow the predators among us to retain their power.
Whatever the form of action we take, one point is crucial: this responsibility must not fall to women alone. Women have led the charge, but we need men to step up. We need male bystanders to speak up, men to speak to their predatory friends, fathers to talk to their sons, and men who have themselves harassed or abused to acknowledge the harm they've caused and resolve to change themselves for the better. Not because men have mothers and sisters and daughters, but because women are human beings who deserve to live with a basic level of respect that guarantees that they won't be victimised.
And as for women -- maybe we need a confidential, independent service where we can log our sexual harassment allegations, be connected with other victims of the same perpetrator and fight them together.
Because one thing's for certain: it's time these bastards paid for their crimes.
Where to get help
If you need to talk to anyone as a result of Lizzie's column, please call:
•Lifeline: 0800 543 354
•Rape Crisis: 0800 883300
