Abstract

Coined by Turana Burke in 2006, the phrase “Me Too” was initially meant as a symbol of inclusivity and empowerment for marginalised groups. However, this mainstream feminist movement has been critiqued for excluding key voices, individuals and groups. This paper highlights the diverse perspectives that were overlooked and the many narratives that remain in the shadows within the #MeToo movement. Evidently, the movement’s default narrative came to privilege and platform the experiences of white, cisgender, heterosexual women. Unconsciously, this too pandered to the society’s standard of the “ideal victim”, thereby, undermining the stories of individuals with more complex and intersectional identities. This phenomenon is rooted in Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality, which explains that individuals with overlapping identities face experiences distinct from the norm, due to the multifaceted discrimination directed towards them. By specifically discussing the impact of race, disability and sexuality on an individual’s participation in the #MeToo movement, this paper aims to highlight the barriers and challenges faced by these marginalised groups that shaped their interactions and their involvement within the movement.

Introduction

“What history has shown us time and again is that if marginalised voices – those of people of colour, queer people, disabled people, poor people – aren’t centred in our movements then they tend to become no more than a footnote. I often say that sexual violence knows no race, class or gender, but the response to it does. “Me too” is a response to the spectrum of gender-based sexual violence that comes directly from survivors – all survivors. We can’t afford a racialised, gendered or classist response. Ending sexual violence will require every voice from every corner of the world and it will require those whose voices are most often heard to find ways to amplify those voices that often go unheard.”   Tarana Burke

Throughout her career, Tarana Burke has highlighted “how issues of race, gender identity, social class and power all determine the consequences of our vulnerability” (Burke, 2021). This statement emphasises the complex ways in which multiple aspects of a person’s identity can shape their experience of sexual violence and their healing process. This phenomenon was prominent in the mainstream narrative of #MeToo, which neglected the purpose of healing as a “community” by largely focusing on the experiences of privileged white women. As such, the movement considerably undermined its original intent of acknowledging and addressing marginalised experiences. To provide a platform for such vulnerable communities, this paper will focus on the impact of race, sexuality and disability on instances of sexual assault and harassment and how they were regarded within the #MeToo movement.

The distinct experiences faced by people of colour, individuals with disabilities and those not identifying as cisgender or heterosexual often remain unaccommodated. Evidently, when women with disabilities have a hard time articulating their struggle, their accounts are discounted and they are considered “unreliable witnesses” (Palacios, 2020). A similar case is seen in empirical studies on victim perception, which show that women of colour are often viewed as “less credible” victims compared to white women (Rosette & Ponce de Leon, 2022). Prejudice against particular communities, including but not limited to racism, ablism, homophobia and transphobia, as well as existing stereotypes, play a major role in such incidents and the response to said instances. Additional unique challenges, such as undisclosed sexual identities of queer victims who would be “outed” by revealing assaults, pose further obstacles. Moreover, victims from such vulnerable groups are often targeted by perpetrators due to their complex identities (Human Rights Watch, 2018). 

The significance of the above-mentioned factors in context to the movement’s impact on the respective groups will be extensively discussed in this paper. Through comparative frameworks and critical analysis of instances of sexual harassment and assault against these social groups, by answering how such instances were dealt with legally and socially, how they were portrayed in the media and how they were perceived by the general public, this paper shall delve into the knotty narratives of these above-mentioned groups. Furthermore, by exploring the limited inclusivity of complex identities in the movement, this paper shall capture the true impact of the movement on these groups by shedding some light on their experience while consequently examining the extent to which these experiences were ignored.

RESEARCH QUESTION

How has the #MeToo movement impacted victims with intersectional identities and to what extent have their narratives been invisibilised?

RESEARCH AIM

“MeToo” was first coined by Tarana Burke in 2006 as a way to support victims of sexual abuse, specifically young women of colour. However, it was in 2017, when this phrase was later taken over as an online hashtag by a white Hollywood actress, Alyssa Milano, that it caught the attention of millions of women worldwide. Did the movement’s mainstreaming obscure the experiences of those most vulnerable to intersectional forms of oppression? Tarana worried that this shift in the narrative of the phrase took away focus from marginalised victims of sexual assault. Who is the “Me” in #MeToo? Is everyone equally represented in this movement? This research paper aims to assess the effectiveness of the #MeToo movement and explore whether and how the movement derailed and invisibilised the narratives of sexual assault victims with intersectional identities. To answer this question, the paper maps how race, disability and sexuality were represented in this movement. The paper will also investigate methods in which the #MeToo movement can move forward and improve in order to include the voices of victims with intersectional identities, whose stories were often disregarded during the rise of the movement.

METHODOLOGY: USING DESK-BASED SOCIO-LEGAL HUMAN RIGHTS RESEARCH

The interdependence and indivisibility between the legal structures, social narratives and social hierarchies are important aspects of the #MeToo movement. In light of the same, this paper has been framed using an interdisciplinary, socio-legal human rights method. By adopting this approach, the paper moves beyond a purely legal analysis to critically examine how the movement intersects with systemic issues of gender, race, disability and sexuality. Furthermore, this methodology brings attention to the perspectives of the most vulnerable section of the movement, that is, women of colour, individuals with disabilities and the LGBTQ community, whose firsthand experiences are often disregarded.

Desk-based socio-legal human rights research lacks direct participants but using secondary sources that are relevant to the lives and interest of individuals will provide a direct line of voice for participants in this case for victims of sexual assault. This paper uses an interdisciplinary methodology because reflexivity (the critical reflection of this author’s own values, biases and assumptions) and positivity (the recognition that this author’s own social identity and background shapes their perspective) will allow for a more nuanced, fair and reliable analysis on the #MeToo movement (Peck, 2023).

This paper employs intersectionality as its theoretical framework. Crenshaw coined the term intersectionality to highlight the unique experience of Black women as their “intersectional experience is greater than the sum of racism and sexism”. Crenshaw states that “any analysis that does not take intersectionality into account cannot sufficiently address the particular manner in which Black women are subordinated” (Crenshaw, 1989). On the same basis, we employ an intersectionality framework to understand the distinct experiences of women from vulnerable social groups. 

Race, Caste and #MeToo: A Story of Erasure?

“It’s time for all our voices to be heard.” – Angela Onwuachi-Willig

As previously mentioned, the term “MeToo” was originally introduced by Tarana Burke, an African American activist from the Bronx. Her aim was to give survivors of sexual violence, especially girls of colour, a safe space to be heard and supported. However, when the #MeToo movement gained popularity in 2017 it ignored most of Burke’s vision for the movement. Burke’s goal was to create a diverse community to uplift survivors. Instead, the narrative became dominated by white women, who represent 31.48% of leading users of the hashtag (Muller, 2021). Women of colour have unfortunately been silenced and pushed aside. They lack a safe space or platform to share their experience without receiving backlash. In addition, racial stereotypes and the “ideal victim” myth create further barriers, leaving women of colour feeling as though their stories will not be taken as seriously as those of white women. The result is a movement that, despite its roots in inclusivity, continues to reflect the systemic silencing of marginalised voices. 

It has been over fifty years since the Jim Crow era, yet the discrimination against the Black community – specifically against Black women – continues till date. Decades have passed, but the Jezebel stereotype continuous to shape how Black women who are victims to sexual assault are perceived by the media. The Jezebel stereotypes depict Black women as hyper-sexualised, seductive, promiscuous and immoral, portraying them as “Jezebel whores”– a term coined during the Jim Crow era. Such depictions not only influence how their stories are perceived but also contribute to the violence they receive. Most importantly, the stereotype is not just reinforced by the public but within their own community. In Cheeseborough, Overstreet & Ward’s (2020) study we see how the Jezebel stereotype plays a role in dismissing Black women’s experience of sexual violence, showing that some Black men justify violence against Black women by invoking the stereotype, thereby undermining their credibility (Cheeseborough et al, 2020).

The lack of credibility that women of colour face stems both from racial stereotypes and from dominant ideas about what an “ideal victim” should look like. The “ideal victim” is an individual or group that is deemed believable and dubbed as a victim according to societal standards (Christie, 1986). As Randall explains, survivors who do not fit the mould of the “ideal victim” are often doubted and blamed for their own assault (Randall, 2010). Despite some progressive law reforms, many stereotypical assumptions continue. The assumption that women who do not resist must have “wanted it” is rooted in harmful cultural stereotypes of women and in victim-blaming narratives. This framework also fuels the idea that women could avoid assault by changing how they dress or behave, which stems from the idea that “only promiscuous women get assaulted”. As a result, women who are labelled “promiscuous” – a stereotype disproportionately applied to Black and Latina women – often find their credibility undermined when they come forward as survivors. The #MeToo movement has been rightly criticised not only for initially ignoring the contributions of women of colour to the creation of the movement, but even more, for ignoring the unique forms of harassment and the heightened vulnerability that women of colour frequently face in the workplace” (Onwuachi-Willig, 2018).

Evidence from India reveals another picture of hierarchies: how caste dynamics have been erased in the #MeToo movement (Atrey, 2020). In the context of India’s legal framework to combat sexual violence, both policies and enforcers work against vulnerable women, especially those of the Dalit caste. While these laws’ intended purpose is to shield potential victims through deterrence, the steps taken to enforce them say otherwise. When Satyabhama, a Dalit woman, attempted to register her case of being “disrobed, paraded and beaten up” at a police station, she was met with not only rejection but also persuasion to “compromise” the case (Bansode, 2022). Without granting proper access to reporting, how can the authorities become aware of the severity of cases and take action? Thus, we can see how the voices of Dalit women are silenced and how they do not have safe platforms to voice their opinions freely. Moreover, these Dalit women also fear violent retaliation and social boycott from upper-caste perpetrators. As a result, many choose silence as a means of survival. This directly juxtaposes the #MeToo’s method of calling out perpetrators with what aids survivors in India.

Ultimately, the widespread threat of reprisal illustrates how the absence of effective legal safeguards leaves survivors with little option but to endure quietly. The applicability of #MeToo in such nations, where women live in margins of intersectionality, should be taken into consideration when determining its effectiveness and relevance. The global resonance of #MeToo uncovered sexual violence as a universal issue, yet its benefits are disproportionate, especially to women of colour. On a global scale, the #MeToo movement has revealed the university of sexual violence, yet the effectiveness of the movement remains uneven.

On the Periphery of #MeToo: Women with Disabilities

“I wanted to contribute to this amazing movement, which presumably should have been empowering for me, but my experience just didn’t fit the mainstream feminist criteria. I thought about raising my voice and pointing this out, but as so often happens in the feminist movement, I worried about the possible outcome of my story being told. I didn’t want to ruin this revolutionary party. I didn’t want to kill the joy. I didn’t want to make trouble. Countless times I, as well as other disabled women, had felt this way in the feminist movement… where disability is erased through lack of accessibility or room for disabled women’s perspectives and voices.” – Freyja Haraldsdóttir

Is the “Me” in #MeToo truly inclusive? The movement aimed to create a platform for every survivor of sexual violence but failed to emphasise the experiences of a group high at risk of sexual abuse: women with disabilities. It has been found that people with disabilities are twice as likely to be sexually assaulted when compared to the general population (Amborski et al, 2021). They have remained largely invisible within the mainstream media and the legal system. This has been largely criticised by disability rights activists such as Nidhi Goyal, who has openly discussed the silencing of disabled people’s voices in major campaigns such as the #MeToo movement (Goyal, 2019). It can be argued that such campaigns not only failed to create a platform for disabled survivors of sexual abuse but also placed additional pressure on them by further invisibilising their stories. It is, therefore, imperative to analyse the unique challenges faced by different groups of disabled women, such as those with intellectual and mental disabilities and sensory disabilities, as well as the systemic roots of the challenges faced by disabled women. This would allow for a better understanding of the scope of the problem and how the #MeToo movement can move forward to specifically address the needs of the disabled community.

Women with intellectual disabilities primarily encounter two challenges when facing sexual assault. First, their understanding of sex is often incomplete or impaired. Studies have shown that individuals with intellectual disabilities often lack knowledge about sexual intercourse, sexually transmitted diseases, reproductive organs and contraception (Brkić-Jovanović et al., 2021). This is likely due to restricted access to both formal and informal sex education, stemming from the widespread perception that individuals with intellectual disabilities are either asexual (Palacios, 2020) or incapable of understanding such complex topics. This means that women with intellectual disabilities often lack the capacity to consent to sexual intercourse, as they were never fully informed about its implications, consequences or moral dimensions. Sadly, many such victims experience so much abuse throughout their lives that they may not even realise they are being abused. This leads to the second challenge faced by intellectually disabled victims of sexual assault: the difficulty in voicing their experiences. This challenge arises not only from a lack of awareness of the assault against themselves, but also from the discrediting of their narratives. Sexual assault prevention activist James Meadours further explains that this phenomenon is exacerbated by the lack of “training on supporting people with intellectual disabilities” among law enforcement, rape crisis shelters and victim advocacy agencies (Meadours & Davis, 2018). A similar problem is also prevalent among individuals with psychological disorders, such as bipolar disorder, severe anxiety or depression. The criminal justice system sometimes discredits the narratives of these women, often dismissing their case without thorough investigation based on the assumption that they are fabricating their experiences, have misunderstood the situation or are experiencing delusions (Meadours & Davis, 2018). It is these myriad obstacles which often leaves these women’s experiences unaddressed.

Another group of disabled women that deserves greater attention are those with sensory impairments. A study has shown that women with sensory disabilities, including those who are visually impaired or deaf, are four times more likely to be sexually victimised than women with other types of disabilities (Amborski et al., 2021). This may be attributed to the fact that women with sensory disabilities usually have a lower socioeconomic status and are more prone to social isolation (Brunes & Heir, 2018). Deaf women are affected the most, as they face significant communication barriers and are unable to communicate with those who do not know sign language without a translator (Quarshie et al., 2025). This social exclusion experienced by individuals with sensory impairments can increase their desire for social interaction, which in turn makes them more vulnerable to exploitation by perpetrators (Quarshie et al., 2025). Assaulters, often being the very caretakers of the disabled, take advantage of these vulnerable situations, using sexual assault as a means to gain control and assert their power. Such abuse may be more common than what the public typically expects. A study has shown that 90% of visually impaired victims of sexual assault were abused by someone with a personal relationship to them, including close relatives (Kvam, 2005). More often than not, such abuse is overlooked by those around them in their daily lives. Their dependence on their caretakers, their fear of being left alone and their feelings of unworthiness compel them to stay in abusive relationships (Brunes & Heir, 2018). Reporting the perpetrator would not only fail to improve the quality of life of those with sensory disabilities but might actually make it worse, as speaking up often results in losing care or companionship.

It is evident that disabled women are among the most prone to sexual victimisation and receive the least support following incidents of sexual assault. One would expect feminist campaigns, such as the #MeToo movement, to target these specific social groups and allocate the most resources to help them achieve equal rights and opportunities. It is disheartening that disabled women remain at the fringes of such a global feminist campaign. Some regions such as Iceland ultimately resorted to creating a small feminist network such as the Tabú as a way for disabled women to share their experiences and talk privately rather than risking disclosure (Haraldsdóttir, 2020). This is a prime example of how the #MeToo movement has been unable to reach everyone, as disabled women often remain uncomfortable sharing their stories publicly.

One of the primary reasons for the marginalisation of the disabled community in movements like #MeToo is the internalisation of negative social views by the victims themselves, including stigmas and stereotypes that disabled individuals are not “sexually desirable or attractive”, or that they should be “grateful if anyone accepts them” (Goyal, 2019). This leads to low self-esteem and feelings of self-blame, eventually causing individuals with disabilities to compartmentalise their experiences and even deny they have been abused. This helps explain why the movement still lacks the capacity to transform into a community that transcends online attention and brings about tangible offline support for those who need it most. The #MeToo movement remains unable to eliminate such social stigma and create an environment that fosters full inclusivity, allowing disabled victims to feel protected and supported when speaking up.

This phenomenon can also be explained by the ableist nature of society, which often undermines and ignores the struggles of women with disabilities, leading to their exclusion. One example where gender violence intersects with ableism is the RPB case in the Philippines (see R.P.B. v The Philippines (Communication No. 34/2011, CEDAW/C/57/D/34/2011)), where a deaf and mute girl, R.P.B, was sexually assaulted. The legal system failed to deliver justice as the court ultimately relied on gender-based myths and stereotypes about rape and rape victims, finding that the victim should have used every opportunity to escape or resist the perpetrator, and subsequently acquitting the defendant. The court neglected the fact that R.P.B was disabled and could not respond to the incident as people would “normally expect”, thus judging her unfairly and by standards applied to perfectly abled bodies (Buckley, 2020). This illustrates the ableist nature of existing legal systems, which causes further oppression against disabled women, discouraging them to share their stories and silencing survivors.

Moreover, accessibility remains a significant problem for disabled women, both institutionally and socially. Justice is often hindered by systemic barriers. For example, in the R.P.B case mentioned in the previous paragraph, R.P.B was not assigned a sign language interpreter during the trial, creating severe communicative barriers between her and the legal system (Buckley, 2020). Such failures can erode the confidence of the disabled community in governmental systems, further contributing to the invisibility and marginalisation of disabled voices. Socially, most prominent feminist campaigns such as the #MeToo movements are usually online movements which are accessible only to those who can regularly use the internet. Accommodations for differently abled women, such as those who are visually impaired, are rarely made. This inherent discrimination against disabled women helps explain the movement’s failure to raise public awareness of sexual violence against them. Furthermore, it is important to note that access to the internet is often controlled by caretakers, who may also be the abusers. For this reason, it is difficult for individuals with disabilities to reach out and share their stories this way (Meadours & Davis, 2018).

Overall, while disabled women have always been survivors of sexual violence, their voices and stories have not been given equal platform and support. By utilising the communicative power of the #MeToo campaign, we could challenge harmful social stigma and ableist stereotypes, make advocacy more accessible and divert more attention toward disabled survivors. This would ultimately allow the movement to move forward as a truly inclusive platform, thereby helping to build a society that ensures equal rights and adequate protection for vulnerable minorities.

Uncovering the Hidden Experience of LGBTQ People in #MeToo

“When one thinks about the power of saying “Me Too”, there is benefit in reflecting upon the minimum levels of privilege that act of speaking requires and in considering how LGBT communities may exist outside such zones of privilege.” – Peter Dunne

Despite the LGBTQ community being four times more likely to face assault than a cisgendered person (Williams Institute, 2020), their representation throughout the #MeToo movement has been scarce. The movement has failed the LGBTQ community in overcoming the dilemma of visibility, as it could not provide them a safe platform for their unique experiences to be analysed and discussed.

Very few cases concerning the LGBTQ community have made it to the mainstream media. Although the movement was meant to empower individuals through visibility, it failed to consider the unique, intersectional challenges faced by the LGBTQ community that prevented them from taking the very first step towards participation. The fundamental nature of the movement, that is, the dimensions of public discourse, rendered members of the LGBTQ community vulnerable. By voicing their trauma, they would also have to admit other elements of their personality or sexual identity in order to deliver the context of the occurrence. This becomes especially challenging for individuals who have not expressed their identities publicly, for personal or safety reasons (Dunne, 2020).

Moreover, these members face extreme prejudice in society, including homophobia, biphobia and transphobia, to the extent that they are classified as “undesirable” and their lifestyles are considered “illegitimate” (Ison, 2019). As such, the possibility that they can be violated in the first place is often dismissed. Consequently, for queer victims, the need to protect themselves from discrimination, judgement and, in some regions, even the law overrides their desire for support in the public eye. 

This aspect of social perception also prompts the question of believability in such cases. To explore the same, let us consider the establishment of “safe spaces” in the movement, wherein women could open up about their previously withheld trauma and experiences. It seemed that such spaces were only accessible to women who fit into the narrative evolved by the #MeToo movement through the nature of its inception: a heterosexual, cisgender female assaulted by a heterosexual, cisgender male in a position of power. Such have been considered the default power dynamics for instances of harassment worldwide. Research indicates that social-sexual behaviours are more likely to be identified as sexual harassment when they involve a male perpetrator and a female victim (Flores et al., 2020). However, any other power relations, which fall outside this pattern, are met with suspicion. For instance, there is a misplaced assumption that partners in same-sex relationships have no gender dynamic at all, or two female partners are assumed to have equal footing due to their genteel and feminine nature (Ison, 2019). Encounters among the queer community, sexual or otherwise, are diverse and unique, as queer people hold a distinct standpoint in relation to both power and sexuality, questioning gender characterisations and existing assumptions. These dynamics are not considered on a unidirectional scale, wherein a heterosexual, cisgender male is bound to hold power over all other gender identities or sexualities (McCann & Sharp, 2023).

To explore how this phenomenon translates into real-life instances of cross-queer encounters, we shall analyse a well-known case. It is important to note that our intent in this paper is not to pass a verdict on the case presented, but rather to evaluate the perception of this case by the general public. In August 2018, almost a year after the #MeToo movement first went viral, The New York Times released an article stating that Nimrod Reitman, a former graduate student at NYU, had filed a Title IX complaint against Avital Ronell, a literary scholar widely recognised in feminist theory. What makes the dynamics of this case even more fascinating is that Ronell is a lesbian, while Reiman identified as gay. According to the New York Times coverage, the Title IX investigation drew upon a large body of email correspondence featuring words of affection from Ronell to Reitman. In response, 51 academic supporters, including renowned feminist scholars, jumped to Ronell’s defence via a formal letter to NYU. They emphasised her professional academic standing and reputation, while maintaining that Reitman appeared to reciprocate these endearments through his own responses (Greenberg, 2018). Therefore, we note that Reitman’s lack of power in contrast with Ronell’s immense authority over the former’s academics and job prospects was not accounted for when deciphering the dynamic of their relationship. Instead, Ronell’s stature as a professor assisted her by acting as a testament to her character and reputation (Greenberg, 2018). Additionally, while most cisgender, heterosexual people would find it confusing that Ronell, a lesbian, seemed to desire a gay man, for queer people, forming interrelations across genders and sexualities is their usual form of interaction (Ison, 2019). Ison went on to state: “reading across the newspaper articles written on this topic, myself and other queer people I know felt no confusion about the fact that the perpetrator was a lesbian and the survivor was a gay man”. As such, it is vital for us to view power dynamics as having a multi-dimensional and complex structure that shapes situations of sexual violence among individuals with diverse and intersectional identities.

Way Forward: #WhatNext in #MeToo Movement?

Yes, the #MeToo movement has exposed the pervasiveness of sexual violence globally, yet the work is not complete. The movement still has a task ahead: the task to transform the movement from a moment of visibility into a sustained, intersectional project of structural change, in which the invisibilised experiences of survivors, particularly those at the intersections of race, class, caste, sexuality, disability and precarious labour, are finally able to come to light.

To do this, the movement needs to start embracing a practice that prioritises advocacy and policy while also acknowledging the wide range of diverse people whose stories have been silenced. The movement’s flaws, exposed in the above-mentioned narratives, emphasise the weaknesses of a universalised feminist language, coincidentally highlighting the need for actions and initiatives that can be more grounded and focused. For example, in India, a crucial way forward is to put caste at the centre of the conversation, so that Dalit women – who are disproportionately targeted by sexual violence – are not silenced or pushed aside just because their experiences do not fit elite standards of “respectability”. The #AmINext demonstrations emphasise how #MeToo must grow with the times and include queer-led movements. This can be achieved by: (1) ditching the “one-size-fits-all” mentality that currently dominates the #MeToo movement; (2) forging stronger partnerships with grassroots organisations already working in caste- and queer-focused advocacy; and (3) by ensuring survivors from these groups are placed in leadership positions where they can shape the agenda directly (Ison, 2019).

As women of colour run the risk of retaliation, deportation or unemployment if they make attempts to achieve the same level of traction on their stories, structural intersectionality frequently influences whether survivors can even gain access to legal or institutional solutions (Crenshaw, 1991). However, there is a way forward, a key to a more accountable future. Endeavours such as expanding worker protections through proper unions, advocating whistleblower immunity for migrant workers and embedding anti-retaliation mechanisms in workplace law are all concrete strategies that, if implemented today, would make a safe workplace for every woman more than just something rhetorical. Imagine a pilot programme where complaints of harassment from undocumented garment workers were anonymised and routed through trusted community organisations, allowing cases to be investigated without immediately exposing the women to deportation threats: such a framework would be revolutionary and could serve as a model for industries where silence is currently coerced.

For the #MeToo movement to thrive as a truly powerful harbinger of change, we must look outside of the United States, where much can be learnt and many can draw inspiration from. One such movement is “Ni Una Menos” (“not for one [women] less”), which originated in Argentina, where women protested against the high rates of gender based violence against women, femicides, toxic masculinity and other crucial social justice issues (Maio, 2023). The Ni Una Menos movement shows the power in locally based feminist movements in Latin America. Right from its inception, the movement highlighted and addressed how sexual violence interacts with other forms of oppression, such as race, class, economic exploitation and colonialism. The worldwide domination of #MeToo runs the risk of obscuring the efforts of Ni Una Menos, which was arguably far more intersectional. This highlights how movement should move towards creating international female solidarity that honours various settings, instead of amalgamating everything into the #MeToo bracket, which has proven to mostly bring awareness to the stories of white females. 

A recurrent danger, however, is that the #MeToo movement risks devolving into what Banet-Weiser (2018) terms “popular feminism”, a commodified form of activism more focused on visibility than transformation. Visibility is not inconsequential – it has shifted cultural norms around sexual violence – but unless linked to accountability structures, it can reinforce inequalities by platforming those already privileged enough to be seen. To resist this, #MeToo must reconceptualise visibility itself: whose stories are amplified, through which channels and towards what end? Practical steps that should be taken include funding media platforms dedicated to marginalised voices, so these voices actually have somewhere they can go to guarantee an audience that will help them in their road of justice. Additionally, there should be a system in place in which representational equity is mandated in mainstream reporting. Intersectionality cannot and should never remain a symbolic add-on or an afterthought in a grander scheme of things; it must be institutionalised as a guiding principle across all levels of policy and media representation.

In practice, this means developing multi-layered strategies. At the grassroots level, community-based survivor networks must be adequately funded, especially those led by Black, Dalit, Indigenous, disabled, queer and migrant women. At the institutional level, legal reforms must explicitly address the unique experiences faced by women at the intersectional margins and the ramifications that come from this; for instance, anti-retaliation protections that recognise how external problems like precarious immigration status forces many victims to stay silent. Importantly, such reforms must move beyond punitive approaches to sexual violence and invest in transformative justice models that prioritise healing, accountability and structural change, where victims are able to take the next step and speak with professionals and each other, instead of fighting to simply have their story acknowledged (Davis, 1981; Davis, 2003; Davis et al., 2022). This ensures that survivors who are marginalised not only have platforms to speak upon, but also mechanisms of justice that are meaningful and that bring closure.

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