While everyone is focused on Hollywood turning its blind eye to the Harvey Weinstein saga, many wonder why it took so long for the story to come out. Although there are legal reasons (fear of libel lawsuits), no one is really discussing the obvious:
There are Harvey Weinsteins in the news industry.
I know.
I worked among them and side-stepped them during my time at four newspapers and The Associated Press earlier in my career.
This weekend, I've been reading testimonials and calling up Youtube recordings of interviews with women actors who had the unfortunate (and similar) experiences with this powerful man. Many have been criticized for not speaking out sooner. Many have explained that they thought they were "the only one" or that they would not be taken seriously. They were trying to preserve their careers. It took the voices of many for them to come forward today. I understand this. And I'm going to break my own silence about a former news editor, who will remain anonymous, if it helps other women to understand they're not alone -- no matter what industry you're in. Maybe if we talk about our own "Harvey Weinsteins," it will help to not only change Hollywood, but every single business and corporation. Voices count.
I'm not going to identify the news outlet where this took place, because frankly, it's the Internet, and anyone can find this blog entry and accuse me of false accusations. But let's just say that this experience led to some major career-altering decisions. Before I launch in, let me also say that I have nothing to gain by telling this story. I've long-since been out of mainstream newsrooms, and after a lengthy time of solo freelancing, I'm now segueing into a teaching career. The only purpose in my telling this story is to help others see that this is a rampant problem, across the board for women.
So.
I was single. I was moving up. I was in a very competitive environment as a news reporter. My stories were constantly on front pages across the country. I had my sights on a next career step and knew where I wanted to go. It was within striking distance, and I felt that it was just a matter of time before I made that move.
Then my editor quit, and we had a replacement -- a guy who was about 15 years older than I was and who was going through a divorce. He seemed affable enough and easy going. Immediately that first week, he started inviting me to take my lunch break with him. Like many of the actresses who encountered Harvey, I felt that these lunches were important to building a working relationship that would help me achieve my career goal. I was able to discuss developing stories and ask for advice about managing my sources during these lunches. I was able to discuss my long-term career goals.
At the time, my widowed mother lived several states away from me, and she started raising alarms. How did I know that this new editor didn't have "expectations" of "something else?" I told her that she was over-reacting. This was a harmless person, I said, and besides, no one "did that type of thing anymore."
"It's not the 1960s or 70s anymore, Mom," I remember telling her. She strongly advised that I stop accepting his lunch break requests.
My boyfriend worked in the same newsroom, but with a different news outlet. He also was concerned. He wasn't the jealous type, but he also felt that this wasn't a good idea.
I didn't take either of them seriously until the new boss started asking me questions about my relationship with my boyfriend. At that point, I decided it would be prudent to stop accepting the lunch break invitations. I explained that I had too much to do on deadline, and although I appreciated the invites, it was better for me to take lunch alone.
Suddenly the atmosphere in my little work environment changed.
Before, I could do no wrong with my writing and reporting. Overnight, there were multiple inane questions about my sentence structures, my paragraph order, my choice of a lead. My stories were being rewritten to mangled garble before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it. The editor became critical of the types of questions I was asking sources. I would have to call and re-call people, asking questions that I had already posed, but doing so because the editor wanted to "be sure" that they "said what I thought they said."
Nothing was right. Nothing was good. Everything I tried to do was "substandard."
All of this time, the editor persisted in inviting me to lunch or dinner. I decided to try an experiment and see if the editing criticism was linked to the days that I declined an invite. On the days that I accepted the lunch invites, miraculously, my stories were "perfect." On the days I didn't, the stories were terrible.
I shared my frustrations with my boyfriend. He suggested that we take a photo of him, blow it up, put it in a giant frame and put it right on my desk. Maybe that would send a message that I was unavailable. I did it, and the behavior worsened. It was as if the photograph of the boyfriend sent this editor over the edge. It was so prevalent on my desk. And from that point on, my stories were obliterated every time I turned them in.
It wasn't just the editor, either. A married male reporter who was in charge when the editor was absent had a habit of calling up pornography while he sent the rest of us out on assignments. One day after work, I and a woman colleague decided to collect evidence of what this man was doing. So we downloaded a record of his computer cookies on a memory stick and held onto it in case we needed it. When my editor tried to corner me one day for not following this reporter's directions, I pulled the memory stick and said I would send it to higher-ups unless both of them backed off.
I was miserable. I should state clearly that there was not an overt attempt to "paw" at me or corner me sexually. I never allowed myself to be alone with this man. But there was a persistent wearing-down on my decisions as a reporter -- a persistent questioning of whether I was accurate -- a persistent maligning of my writing and rewriting of my work until it was unrecognizable. In a few instances, I demanded that my byline be removed from stories that had been ruined.
Finally, I'd had enough. One day after everyone had cleared the newsroom and the place was silent except the buzzing of the florescent lights over my desk, I called a lawyer. I had seen this lawyer testify before legislative committees that I had been covering about women's rights. I identified myself to his administrative assistant and explained why I was calling. He got on the phone immediately, and I gave a short summary of my hostile work environment.
"Well, let me ask you a few questions before we proceed," he said.
"Do you have trouble eating or problems with your appetite?" No.
"Do you have problems sleeping?" No.
"Do you have any problems like ongoing vomiting?" No.
"Do you have migraines?" No.
"Do you feel that your physical health has been affected adversely in any way by what this man is doing?" No.
"Have you told him to stop asking you to lunch?" Yes.
"Have you made a report to his supervisors?" Yes, but I was told by his supervisor to "act like a professional and maybe you won't have problems in the future." (His boss was a woman, by the way.)
"Have you kept a journal?" No.
"Do you see a psychologist or psychiatrist for emotional issues?" No.
Basically, he told me that there was not enough to prove that my life had been hurt in a negative way by what this editor was doing. I still had a job. I had not received a negative report on my work quality. I was considered by many within the industry and those who knew me in that community to be a strong reporter. My reputation was intact and had not been maligned. I had not been held back from promotions -- yet. And all he had done was ask me to lunch. Repeatedly. But that wasn't enough for a lawsuit.
You may say that I had a chip on my shoulder. You may wonder if my work was substandard and whether this guy just was being a good editor. You may think I'm crazy. There are many reasons that people may question whether this person was willfully making my life difficult and whether I am making all of this up.
But the people who know me, people like my mother and my former boyfriend, would remember that I was under such stress that I could barely function. After a time, my stories probably were not up to par, because I was always fearing that this man would take his idiot pen and rip them to shreds.
So how does this story end?
Well, the lawyer told me that if I really wanted to "nail him," I should keep a journal for the next six months, and then we would look at filing a lawsuit.
I thought about that, and in the end, I decided against it. Like many women in my generation, I had to weigh whether it was worth the fight and whether my reputation could take a hit when he defended himself against my accusations. Plus, I also felt that part of my soul was becoming embittered. I wanted to live a good life, not one where I was constantly looking over my shoulder and trying to "get back" at someone else.
I decided to take the high road and keep my mouth shut. I put out my resume and landed a job within three weeks of my search. I took a $15,000 PAY CUT to move four states away and start over. I abandoned my earlier dream and felt that I was escaping with my soul and reputation intact.
But the saddest thing about this, for me anyway, was when I called one of my sources to inform him that I had taken a new job.
"Where are you going?" my source asked me.
"To North Carolina," I answered. "I'm taking a pay cut. I can't tell you why I'm leaving, but I wanted to say goodbye, because you've been great to work with."
He paused, and there was about a 10-second silence on the other end. I waited. And then he said the words that have haunted me to this day:
"How the mighty have fallen. I'm so sorry. I wish you well."
I've always wondered if he knew.
So yes. There are Harvey Weinsteins in every industry, as well as in the media. They may not all look and sound like Harvey Weinstein. They may not perpetrate the same level of vicious attacks as he did. But the effect is the same: Women are silenced. Women put their careers second to their need to survive. Women feel they are alone. Women don't talk about it out of fear of not being taken seriously.
The bright side of this story is that if I had never had this change in my life, I would not have my son today. I eventually married a U.S. serviceman who went to war, and although we are now divorced, our kid is pretty great. I look for a silver lining in every cloud, and my son is my "platinum lining."
But the issue still remains.
What can a woman do when a man who has power over her controls her career? I'm not sure there is an answer. But I'm grateful to actors like Rose McGowan for standing firm and discussing their painful histories with Harvey Weinstein. Maybe by doing so, they will see a world of good done for women not only in Hollywood, but also throughout industries far and wide.
The next time you hear someone on TV say, "Why did it take so long for the Harvey Weinstein story to come out?" just remember ... There are Harvey Weinsteins in the media, just like there are Harvey Weinsteins in your workplace. You may not know their names or their actions, but they're there.
And now I've added my voice to the others about how my own "Harvey" affected me.
There are Harvey Weinsteins in the news industry.
I know.
I worked among them and side-stepped them during my time at four newspapers and The Associated Press earlier in my career.
This weekend, I've been reading testimonials and calling up Youtube recordings of interviews with women actors who had the unfortunate (and similar) experiences with this powerful man. Many have been criticized for not speaking out sooner. Many have explained that they thought they were "the only one" or that they would not be taken seriously. They were trying to preserve their careers. It took the voices of many for them to come forward today. I understand this. And I'm going to break my own silence about a former news editor, who will remain anonymous, if it helps other women to understand they're not alone -- no matter what industry you're in. Maybe if we talk about our own "Harvey Weinsteins," it will help to not only change Hollywood, but every single business and corporation. Voices count.
I'm not going to identify the news outlet where this took place, because frankly, it's the Internet, and anyone can find this blog entry and accuse me of false accusations. But let's just say that this experience led to some major career-altering decisions. Before I launch in, let me also say that I have nothing to gain by telling this story. I've long-since been out of mainstream newsrooms, and after a lengthy time of solo freelancing, I'm now segueing into a teaching career. The only purpose in my telling this story is to help others see that this is a rampant problem, across the board for women.
So.
I was single. I was moving up. I was in a very competitive environment as a news reporter. My stories were constantly on front pages across the country. I had my sights on a next career step and knew where I wanted to go. It was within striking distance, and I felt that it was just a matter of time before I made that move.
Then my editor quit, and we had a replacement -- a guy who was about 15 years older than I was and who was going through a divorce. He seemed affable enough and easy going. Immediately that first week, he started inviting me to take my lunch break with him. Like many of the actresses who encountered Harvey, I felt that these lunches were important to building a working relationship that would help me achieve my career goal. I was able to discuss developing stories and ask for advice about managing my sources during these lunches. I was able to discuss my long-term career goals.
At the time, my widowed mother lived several states away from me, and she started raising alarms. How did I know that this new editor didn't have "expectations" of "something else?" I told her that she was over-reacting. This was a harmless person, I said, and besides, no one "did that type of thing anymore."
"It's not the 1960s or 70s anymore, Mom," I remember telling her. She strongly advised that I stop accepting his lunch break requests.
My boyfriend worked in the same newsroom, but with a different news outlet. He also was concerned. He wasn't the jealous type, but he also felt that this wasn't a good idea.
I didn't take either of them seriously until the new boss started asking me questions about my relationship with my boyfriend. At that point, I decided it would be prudent to stop accepting the lunch break invitations. I explained that I had too much to do on deadline, and although I appreciated the invites, it was better for me to take lunch alone.
Suddenly the atmosphere in my little work environment changed.
Before, I could do no wrong with my writing and reporting. Overnight, there were multiple inane questions about my sentence structures, my paragraph order, my choice of a lead. My stories were being rewritten to mangled garble before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it. The editor became critical of the types of questions I was asking sources. I would have to call and re-call people, asking questions that I had already posed, but doing so because the editor wanted to "be sure" that they "said what I thought they said."
Nothing was right. Nothing was good. Everything I tried to do was "substandard."
All of this time, the editor persisted in inviting me to lunch or dinner. I decided to try an experiment and see if the editing criticism was linked to the days that I declined an invite. On the days that I accepted the lunch invites, miraculously, my stories were "perfect." On the days I didn't, the stories were terrible.
I shared my frustrations with my boyfriend. He suggested that we take a photo of him, blow it up, put it in a giant frame and put it right on my desk. Maybe that would send a message that I was unavailable. I did it, and the behavior worsened. It was as if the photograph of the boyfriend sent this editor over the edge. It was so prevalent on my desk. And from that point on, my stories were obliterated every time I turned them in.
It wasn't just the editor, either. A married male reporter who was in charge when the editor was absent had a habit of calling up pornography while he sent the rest of us out on assignments. One day after work, I and a woman colleague decided to collect evidence of what this man was doing. So we downloaded a record of his computer cookies on a memory stick and held onto it in case we needed it. When my editor tried to corner me one day for not following this reporter's directions, I pulled the memory stick and said I would send it to higher-ups unless both of them backed off.
I was miserable. I should state clearly that there was not an overt attempt to "paw" at me or corner me sexually. I never allowed myself to be alone with this man. But there was a persistent wearing-down on my decisions as a reporter -- a persistent questioning of whether I was accurate -- a persistent maligning of my writing and rewriting of my work until it was unrecognizable. In a few instances, I demanded that my byline be removed from stories that had been ruined.
Finally, I'd had enough. One day after everyone had cleared the newsroom and the place was silent except the buzzing of the florescent lights over my desk, I called a lawyer. I had seen this lawyer testify before legislative committees that I had been covering about women's rights. I identified myself to his administrative assistant and explained why I was calling. He got on the phone immediately, and I gave a short summary of my hostile work environment.
"Well, let me ask you a few questions before we proceed," he said.
"Do you have trouble eating or problems with your appetite?" No.
"Do you have problems sleeping?" No.
"Do you have any problems like ongoing vomiting?" No.
"Do you have migraines?" No.
"Do you feel that your physical health has been affected adversely in any way by what this man is doing?" No.
"Have you told him to stop asking you to lunch?" Yes.
"Have you made a report to his supervisors?" Yes, but I was told by his supervisor to "act like a professional and maybe you won't have problems in the future." (His boss was a woman, by the way.)
"Have you kept a journal?" No.
"Do you see a psychologist or psychiatrist for emotional issues?" No.
Basically, he told me that there was not enough to prove that my life had been hurt in a negative way by what this editor was doing. I still had a job. I had not received a negative report on my work quality. I was considered by many within the industry and those who knew me in that community to be a strong reporter. My reputation was intact and had not been maligned. I had not been held back from promotions -- yet. And all he had done was ask me to lunch. Repeatedly. But that wasn't enough for a lawsuit.
You may say that I had a chip on my shoulder. You may wonder if my work was substandard and whether this guy just was being a good editor. You may think I'm crazy. There are many reasons that people may question whether this person was willfully making my life difficult and whether I am making all of this up.
But the people who know me, people like my mother and my former boyfriend, would remember that I was under such stress that I could barely function. After a time, my stories probably were not up to par, because I was always fearing that this man would take his idiot pen and rip them to shreds.
So how does this story end?
Well, the lawyer told me that if I really wanted to "nail him," I should keep a journal for the next six months, and then we would look at filing a lawsuit.
I thought about that, and in the end, I decided against it. Like many women in my generation, I had to weigh whether it was worth the fight and whether my reputation could take a hit when he defended himself against my accusations. Plus, I also felt that part of my soul was becoming embittered. I wanted to live a good life, not one where I was constantly looking over my shoulder and trying to "get back" at someone else.
I decided to take the high road and keep my mouth shut. I put out my resume and landed a job within three weeks of my search. I took a $15,000 PAY CUT to move four states away and start over. I abandoned my earlier dream and felt that I was escaping with my soul and reputation intact.
But the saddest thing about this, for me anyway, was when I called one of my sources to inform him that I had taken a new job.
"Where are you going?" my source asked me.
"To North Carolina," I answered. "I'm taking a pay cut. I can't tell you why I'm leaving, but I wanted to say goodbye, because you've been great to work with."
He paused, and there was about a 10-second silence on the other end. I waited. And then he said the words that have haunted me to this day:
"How the mighty have fallen. I'm so sorry. I wish you well."
I've always wondered if he knew.
So yes. There are Harvey Weinsteins in every industry, as well as in the media. They may not all look and sound like Harvey Weinstein. They may not perpetrate the same level of vicious attacks as he did. But the effect is the same: Women are silenced. Women put their careers second to their need to survive. Women feel they are alone. Women don't talk about it out of fear of not being taken seriously.
The bright side of this story is that if I had never had this change in my life, I would not have my son today. I eventually married a U.S. serviceman who went to war, and although we are now divorced, our kid is pretty great. I look for a silver lining in every cloud, and my son is my "platinum lining."
But the issue still remains.
What can a woman do when a man who has power over her controls her career? I'm not sure there is an answer. But I'm grateful to actors like Rose McGowan for standing firm and discussing their painful histories with Harvey Weinstein. Maybe by doing so, they will see a world of good done for women not only in Hollywood, but also throughout industries far and wide.
The next time you hear someone on TV say, "Why did it take so long for the Harvey Weinstein story to come out?" just remember ... There are Harvey Weinsteins in the media, just like there are Harvey Weinsteins in your workplace. You may not know their names or their actions, but they're there.
And now I've added my voice to the others about how my own "Harvey" affected me.
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