Tarana Burke, Me Too, Instagram movement, Hollwyood, gender equality, women empowerment

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Culture & Living

“My greatest hope is that people understand this is about healing and action”: Me Too founder Tarana Burke on the movement’s future

As part of Vogue’s Hope series, Burke pays homage to the lives of the civil rights activists who have fuelled her commitment to bringing an end to sexual violence once and for all

The work of the Me Too movement is largely driven by hope. If I couldn’t be hopeful that an end to sexual violence was possible; if I couldn’t be hopeful that the material lives of black people were able to change or that marginalised folks couldn’t have justice, then there wouldn’t be anything to work towards. We have to have, as former president Barack Obama says, the audacity of hope in order to do this work. There is something quite audacious about being hopeful in the face of white supremacy, patriarchy and oppression, because they seem so overwhelming, dominating, omnipresent. But then we have these little glimmers of hope that let us know that’s not true.

Black Lives Matter has shown us how a movement works

One of the things that has struck me over the past three years since Me Too became really visible is how little people understand about movements, and how fast we are to attach the word ‘movement’ to anything. Something goes viral, it’s a movement. Then, because of that, people get disappointed when they don’t have fast results. But Black Lives Matter has shown us how a movement works. When Black Lives Matter emerged in 2013, the movement for black lives was quickly formed by multiple organisations. It took on the work of both training a new generation, and carrying forward the vision, the hope and the lessons of past movements.

Now we have this political unrest and uprising of the people again and I’ve seen such a methodical and thoughtful movement unfold. It wasn’t just a bunch of people coming together to make signs and protest; people across the country were ready for this moment because they’ve been working consistently for the last four or five years to get us here. That, for me, is reminiscent of past movements, which is why I feel so emboldened by what the Movement for Black Lives has achieved. People didn’t understand why they were getting involved in local elections until the Minneapolis City Council proposed the defunding of their police department—members of the community joined councils so they could make those kinds of decisions.

I hope Me Too will have the same opportunity. People don’t know about the work we’re doing behind the scenes—partnerships, negotiations, strategising—but when it’s time to engage the public, we will be way more prepared than we were on the morning after the Me Too hashtag went viral. That’s how a movement really works. The Movement for Black Lives and the organisations that have been part of it have done a wonderful job of galvanising the world.

The future of Me Too

With Me Too, my greatest hope is that people will understand that this is about healing and action. This is both about the people who’ve said, “Me too”, and stopping more people from having to say, “Me too”. We built this movement on the backs of survivors, of people who have suffered these indignities and had their humanity snatched away from them. But in order for us to stand on a front line, to testify before legislation, to tell our stories, we need to heal. For people who’ve experienced sexual violence, this is a movement to make sure that we all get what we need to have fuller lives—to live life where dignity is intact and walk in our full humanity.

On the other side, it’s about action. Millions of people have said, “Me too”—when I think about those people, I don’t think about victims. I think about a small army with shared experience. Even if it’s a horrific experience, it’s a shared one we can build from. Movement and community are both built in the same way: from shared experience, shared needs, shared goals.

Dealing with sexual violence is not about taking down individual perpetrators. It is really about dismantling the systems of power and privilege that allow sexual violence. Survivors of sexual violence who experience healing are more prone to lead that action. We know that the people who’ve experienced the thing should be at the centre of leading the work to end it.

Learning from the past

I spent many years living in Selma, Alabama where I worked at the National Voting Rights Museum and Institute, so I’m very connected to the civil rights movement. Although I wasn’t close to the late Congressman John Lewis, I knew him and met him many times, but the minister and civil rights leader, Reverend CT Vivian, who also passed this July, was very close to me and my family, and was a mentor. Recently I’ve been thinking about what he taught me. What are the lessons I learned from him?

Rev was so consistent. He was clear that what he believed was right, and that his vision for justice and peace in the world was on the right side. And he was committed until the day he closed his eyes, in a way that mirrored a lot of the other leaders and people of that time. It’s the kind of commitment that enabled poor black women in Alabama to walk to work for over a year during the Montgomery bus boycott [a civil rights protest that took place from 1955 to 1956, when black people refused to ride city buses to protest segregated seating]. I don’t know what they were made of, but I’ve been trying to get a little bit of that for the longest time.

I always think about Rev when I feel tired, because he would say, “We feel tired, but we press on.” We are in an exciting time. People keep comparing this to the 1960s… Things are changing. Movement is happening at a pace that seems good to us. But I’m really clear that in the 15 years prior to this and probably for many years after this, we may not have this moment, but we still have to be tenacious. We still have to be clear and steadfast and committed. The moment you have clarity of vision and know that you are on the right side of history, then you can just keep marching forward.

As told to Rosalind Jana

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