Full Disclosure: #MeToo at the GSB

“I know what I did, but it made me uncomfortable to talk about it, so I pretended like it didn’t happen.”

That’s what our classmate said to me when I confronted him about assaulting me last year. It was at a house party. We were all drunk. He was being handsy with…everybody, including me. Multiple times he put his hand on my waist, my leg, and each time I moved away or had a friend intervene. While on the dance floor, his hand made its way from the small of my back down the back of my dress, not only onto, but into, my ass.

Me, too.

Full disclosure, when I used to hear about women being assaulted, I could never understand why it was hard for them to speak up. “Of course I would say something,” I told myself. I would never let someone get away with invading my personal space and taking away my agency.

I wish I could say that I lived up to my own expectations, but I didn’t. I, like so many other women, tried to let it go. Why don’t women report sexual harassment or assault? For one, it’s hard to prove, and often ends up being her word against his. According to the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN), 31% of assaults are reported to police, but only 6% lead to an arrest.

In the workplace, women fear retaliation, and there is evidence that those fears are justified. In one study, two-thirds of public sector employees surveyed who had complained about harassment subsequently reported experiencing retaliation in some form. Until recently, we didn’t see men getting fired for this behavior. Instead, women chose to settle over losing their jobs. No one wants to be a troublemaker, and when we are already fighting against the grain in a male-dominated workplace, sometimes it’s not worth the damage to our own reputations.

I get that now.

“It wasn’t that bad. I’ve had worse done to me. I have no proof. The administration can’t do anything anyway.”

This is what I would tell my friends when I would recount what happened. They would encourage me to report it. But, we’re at business school. We are investing in a network, and part of this experience is shaping your reputation, your brand, with 400+ peers that will stick with you for the rest of your career. Do I want my brand to be “the girl who got assaulted in our class”? Not really.

Then #MeToo happened. A wave of powerful posts exploded on our social media pages. First icons in film and TV, then former coworkers, then some of my closest friends, all sharing the same two powerful words that united us in a shared experience and brought to light what had been happening for too long in plain sight. These declarations were followed by ones from our allies — our woke bosses, colleagues, fathers, brothers, friends posting messages supporting us victims, and expressing disgust at people who would do such deplorable things.

Then he posted. He was publicly declaring himself to be on my side. It turned my stomach. An entire diatribe on Facebook expressing shock, horror, and outrage at those despicable other men who treat women like objects, and an expression of admiration for everyone who had the courage to voice their truths.

How dare he? A wolf in sheep’s clothing pretending to be on the right side of history, I thought. Then, I remembered my good ol’ “touchy feely” training. Maybe he didn’t know he was one of the bad guys. Maybe he was drunk and didn’t remember what he had done. He’s a nice person. I had to assume good intent. It wasn’t fair of me to cast him in this light without giving him the chance to explain himself.

I also realized this was an opportunity to make a difference. At a place like the GSB, where everyone is so open to dialogue and feedback, surely I could have a productive conversation with this guy, right? I pictured me telling him what happened, and him being horrified and surprised at his behavior. I assumed apologies would ensue, followed by a pledge to make things right. I wanted him to take responsibility publicly, as a call to action to so many of the men who believe themselves allies but may be unaware that the actions they may take, either drunkenly at a party or on a daily basis, are perpetuating the very issue they think they are championing. How powerful would that be?

I decided to talk to him. I practiced over and over what I would say. I wanted this conversation, this tough, agonizing conversation, to be productive. I wanted it to matter.

We sat down in the late afternoon sun at Coupa. As I learned in MGE, I got out my message in the first 30 seconds.

“I wanted to meet today to talk about something that happened at a party last year. You may not remember, but…”

I gave my spiel. By the end, my voice was quivering. My whole body was shaking. This was so much harder than I thought it would be. I waited.

“I was worried this was what you wanted to talk about.”

“I remember the look on your face when it happened. I didn’t fully remember what I did, but I knew in that moment I had done something wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

This was not the reaction I had expected or hoped for. He knew what he had done. Yet, he chose to invade my space and hug me every time he saw me, all the while knowing that he had done something to really hurt me, because that was easier than having a conversation that made him uncomfortable. I don’t remember the rest of the conversation. I ended it and rushed off. I wanted to escape before the tears started. I now go to great lengths to avoid any interaction with him. Given who he is and what he’s involved in, that proves to be increasingly difficult. Graduation will be a relief.

I believe he is a good person and has good intentions. I also believe he has no idea how to face himself, because his actions are so antithetical to the person he wants to be. I think this is the dissonance we learned about in OB, right? (In case you missed class that day, cognitive dissonance refers to the discomfort that comes from holding conflicting beliefs simultaneously.)

So why am I writing this?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned at the GSB, it’s that the only real failure is one of integrity. I get the dissonance problem. I needed to tell this story because I couldn’t continue to say I was a woman of action when I was staying silent.

Maybe that means my reputation is as the girl who got assaulted. I’ll take that over the girl who did nothing.

While it likely won’t happen, I am still hopeful that he steps up and acknowledges his truth. Yes, that would impact his reputation. Yes, it would lead to many difficult conversations and personal reckonings. But he would also be modeling courage and leadership. At least in my eyes, it would be an act of integrity, and a step towards earning his ally badge back.

It’s very possible that some of you reading this have inadvertently been on the wrong side of #MeToo, too. My intent is not to isolate or scare anyone out of talking about these issues. I get it, being an ally isn’t easy. It’s inevitable we will make mistakes. We’ve learned that in every class we’ve taken here. We’ve also learned that these mistakes are the greatest tests of our integrity. These are the times we are called to walk the walk after talking the talk. Good intent is a good start, but it just isn’t good enough.

We’ve also learned that these mistakes are the greatest tests of our integrity.

I realize the strength it would take for someone to acknowledge that they were the person who did this to me. I know the hardest finger to point is the one directed at yourself. It’s not easy to wake up and realize you’ve contributed to the problem instead of the solution. But, you must acknowledge what you did. You must reach out, own your action, and apologize. And if you can’t, then take off the ally badge. You’ve lost your right to wear it.

We are about to graduate from one of the best institutions in the world, but that reputation is only as strong as the legacy of choices we make as leaders. As we return to the real world, conversations may be harder. People may not be open to feedback. No one will know what the hell “the net” is. If we can’t even get this stuff right in our ivory tower, how are we supposed to change lives, change organizations, and change the world?

Writing this piece is my first step to create a world in which the only time my future daughter is saying “me, too” is when she’s comparing how much money she’s making with the boys.

Want to create a world in which we no longer have this conversation? Me, too.