It was way overdue.

It is way overdue, like the tomorrow that never seems to come quick enough, but perhaps that is the way of it. It needed to gather its pieces together like a snowball rolling down a mountain. With each turn, the pieces are packed tighter together so that at the end of its journey, little withstands its impact.

The #Metoo campaign has grown to encompass both women and men coming together to say: “Enough!”  It gladdens me to see people from all ethnicities, generations, ways of life opening up about their experiences. It is hard to do. I know.

The shame you feel. In my generation, the thought was that you probably deserved it. You ask for it in the way you dress. You keep quiet for the most part. You beat yourself up. You wonder. Could I have done something to stop it? You wonder. Were they right? You wonder. Did you cause it? Was the dress you wore too provocative? Did you drink more than you should have? You berate yourself for making the decision that getting from a car park to your house at night was safe enough. After all, you have done it hundreds of times in the last years.

You keep the memory of what happened closed off in a tiny compartment, deep, so deep down inside. By locking up the memory, the voice that taunts you will gradually die away you reason. It never does.

Then one morning you see that others have done the same as you. The blame, the shame, the need to keep it hidden, was not only yours to claim. And the numbers begin to mount of brave people facing their demon. Facing the belief that they were to blame and casting it aside for all eternity.

It was way overdue.