Men, Let’s Start a Love Revolution With What Love *Is* Because #MeToo is All the Things Love is Not

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I’ve been lied to, cheated on, harassed, passed over for promotions, manipulated, isolated, ghosted, mansplained, screamed at, whistled at, stared down, stalked, threatened, and assaulted. #MeToo

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. I am able to tell my story with little fear of retaliation and when I speak up, it helps set other’s free. I am fortunate, indeed.

It is odd to use the word fortunate, or lucky, right alongside a cursory description of all the different levels of abuse I’ve suffered at the hands of men: former bosses, boyfriends, even students who’ve sat in my classroom, over the years. I have hesitated to put this story out into the world even as I read through all the #MeToo status updates in my news feeds. It was empowering to read them and know that my experience is more normal that I had assumed.

It was also sad. I mean, how is this normal?

My hesitation didn’t come from a fear of vulnerability. I write about my life a lot. Vulnerability has become my friend. No, it was the sense that in adding to the fray, I would wind up sounding like I was trying to “one-up” others with my tale of woe. This is not who I am.

I am also not defined by the things that have been done to me. And, I refuse to be ruled by fear.

But, then, something else happened. Six months ago I accepted a position at a non-profit organization. I now spend my working hours training adults with barriers to employment for work in the food service industry.

I meet so many women who are trying to rebuild their lives after violence or abuse or addiction have left them physically and emotionally devastated. When they come to my office for the first time, they are need of a fresh start. They feel they have nothing of value to offer the world.

We talk about what it would mean to be able to nourish their families, earn a livable wage, and recover their confidence. We talk about what it would look like if they were able to leave fear and instability behind for good and start making decisions about the future that promoted health and growth.

These are always sobering conversations for both of us. I am continually reminded that my own story is mine and it is valuable but I am not a tragic victim. Neither are they. The courage it takes to show up at my office and ask for help is inspiring. To journey beside them as they take back their lives is humbling.

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In the process, I’ve learned a few things about what love isn’t: Love is not coercive. It does not manipulate. Love does not seek power. Love does not keep score. Shame, fear, and condemnation have nothing to do with love. Love is not conditional. Love does not judge my worth based on my failures or my past or my brokenness or my dress size.

Love never accepts a lie.

Love does not invade places and spaces it has not been invited into. Love does not seek to retaliate or destroy. Love never pushes past the boundaries of the word “no.”

And yet, love is a force all its own.

Love embraces our vulnerability and brokenness. Love shows up, tells the truth, and invites us into deeper partnership. Love leans forward and listens as we unfold our twisting stories. Love works for our good. Love takes our hand and walks us home when we cannot see the road ahead. Love keeps the fire burning, takes the midnight call, and is selfless in celebrating our accomplishments.

Love always protects.

Love creates a safe haven, but love doesn’t play it safe. Love is fearless in the face of risk. Love knows that we are rare, priceless, and irreplaceable. Love scales mountains, tears down walls, in search of our true heart. Love roots for the underdog. Love cannot stand burnt bridges or a scorched earth mentality. Love plants seeds for the future.

Love is always growing.

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I’m speaking of perfect love. Not sappy love song love. Not “rom com” love. Not lust.

But we are not perfect. The ways we’ve given and received love have been well-meaning at best. At it’s worst, our love has been selfish and painful and destructive. I’m not standing on a soapbox demanding that everyone magically start giving the perfect love I am describing. I am suggesting that we harness the good love we’ve been given and distinguish between true love and abuse that has disguised itself as love all these years.

I am demanding that we stop accepting abuse as the norm and start putting our best efforts, our whole hearts, toward giving others the best love we can: a risky, compassionate, faithful, spacious, tender, honest, forgiving sort of love. A love that is not ruled by fear.

If everyone started their own little love revolution in their homes and neighborhoods and workplaces, we’d need to find a new hashtag.
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