My $100 Deal with My Own Harvey Weinstein
This will be the shortest piece I write.
It was several years ago. He was finance guy, I was a cocktail waitress. He was drunk, I was working.
After a day of drinking at his Christmas party, I walked up to say hello to him. He put his arm around me as if it hug me, then put his other hand up my dress and under my underwear. His fingers touched my crotch, and then he squeezed my ass. He asked if I was wearing any underwear. I was in shock.
About 30 minutes later, while I was taking an order at a high top, he came up behind me and thrust his groin against my ass in a mock fucking gesture, pinning me between him and the table. I told him not to touch me, and he threw his hands up, clearly insulted, and said “oh, I’m the bad guy, now?”
My managers kicked him out. But he was allowed back in the next day, and every day after that. I cried in the bathroom after it happened.
I did not report it. I did not call the cops. I did not tell his wife. I did not tell his boss. I did not tell my family (at first). I did not quit my job. And weeks later, when I explained to him why I refused to serve him anymore, he left me a $100 tip as an “apology.”
I’m sorry I was not brave enough to speak up, and I worry every day that he did it to someone else after I left.
Sexual assault is not a liberal thing, or a conservative thing. It can happen to anyone. It can happen to a cocktail waitress, it can happen to an Oscar winner. And whether those that assault us give us $100 or $100k for our “troubles”, whether we are filming a blockbuster movie or just trying to make rent, we have to make the world understand there is no price that makes sexual assault acceptable. And that starts by continuously reiterating that a woman’s self worth and safety are far more valuable than the power of a man’s reputation.