New York Post – by Mike Tunison
Last spring, during my first week as a janitor at a Dave & Buster’s, I struck up a conversation with a co-worker who served 17 years in prison. Swapping life stories, I sheepishly divulged that I used to work for The Washington Post, that I had a book published by HarperCollins, and that I had been the editor of a popular website.
He fixed a look at me. “So what are you doing here?” he asked.
For the life of me, I couldn’t begin to explain how I went from having a life and career I felt proud of, to being publicly shamed by my peers and punished for things I didn’t do.
In October 2017, I was one of roughly 70 men included in the Sh-tty Media Men list, a crowdsourced spreadsheet of anonymous, unvetted allegations of sexual misconduct and assault. No words can describe my astonishment at finding myself accused of “harassment,” “stalking” and “physical intimidation.” Even more agonizing was seeing this supposedly private listing swiftly leaked to the public via several major online media outlets as well as social media.
The damage to my career seemed equally swift. In the decade leading up to the list, my work was regularly published by more than a dozen outlets. After the leak, that work screeched to a stop. Today, I write for only one outlet I previously contributed to; income that covers only a few smaller bills. I’ve applied for hundreds of office jobs in an effort to avoid a bankruptcy that could hurt family members whose finances are linked to mine.
Most days, it’s difficult to envision a path back to a decent life.
More than two years later, the media continue to embrace #MeToo’s powerful personal narratives as a reliable source of content and controversy. Now a cornerstone of liberal orthodoxy that few dare to challenge, there has been surprisingly little effort to dig into its complexities, unless the accused is someone powerful and prominent like Al Franken.
Hard-line supporters of the movement shrug off its more extreme tactics by noting that some #MeToo’d celebrities have inched back to prominence. Nonfamous casualties remain swept under the rug.
My story is noteworthy only because I’m one of the least powerful men to have been publicly accused in the #MeToo era. What makes this event intolerable isn’t just that the allegations against me are false. It’s that I have no idea who made them.
When the list was created, I’d been freelancing exclusively for two years. Of all media jobs, freelancing may be the least powerful. It’s extremely easy, and far from uncommon, for the editors on whom freelancers depend for their livelihoods to brush them off without explanation. Not one editor asked me about the list’s allegations. I just stopped getting work.
Almost immediately after the list’s release, a close friend of 10 years cut me off and hasn’t spoken to me since. Day after day, I’m tortured by the thought that even more people will learn of the allegations. Too often, I’ve found myself hanging out with friends as the discussion turned to celebrities being #MeToo’d, and been incapable of revealing what happened to me.
It’s been more than a year since I’ve dated. Working three low-paying jobs means I’m always busy — and broke. Plus, any woman who does the usual, predate research online could stumble upon the list. How could I explain it away?
Read the rest here: https://nypost.com/2020/02/01/being-wrongly-metood-has-ruined-my-life/https://nypost.com/2020/02/01/being-wrongly-metood-has-ruined-my-life/
I believe this man. And I hope for his life to somehow heal, and that what and who he needs comes to him. I believe him.
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