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Four Powerful #MeToo Stories Take Center Stage at Glamour Women of the Year Awards


One of the most powerful moments from Glamour‘s Women of the Year Awards undoubtedly came from Jodi Cantor and Megan Twohey, the New York Times journalists who, six weeks ago, broke a story that can only be described as world-changing: The decades of sexual harassment and abuse by Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein. Since, their story has furiously opened floodgates beyond Hollywood, and hundreds of powerful men across several industries are starting to be held accountable for their actions.

“When we stood with our bosses in the investigative unit of the Times and pushed the “publish” button, we had no idea what would happen: the women who spoke to us feared criticism and retaliation,” said Twohey on Glamour‘s stage, adding that when she’d previously documented allegations of sexual misconduct by Donald Trump, he snapped back with personal attacks and litigation threats. “Instead, every day of the last six weeks has brought new stories as women have come forward with accusations against abusers in every field,” she said. “Female farmworkers, restaurant workers, and athletes have shared their stories. To date, the hashtag #MeToo has been Tweeted over 2.3 million times in 85 countries.”

From there, four women took the stage—attorney and academic Anita Hill, gold-medal gymnast Aly Raisman, New York City police officer Ann Cardenas, and model and activist Cameron Russell—to share their own #MeToo moments. Here are their stories.

Anita Hill: In 1991 I testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee that Clarence Thomas, who had repeatedly harassed me when he was my boss, was unsuitable to sit on the U.S. Supreme Court.
 
The outcome of my testimony was not what I’d hoped, but in no way was it the final word. In the five years after I testified, sexual harassment complaints filed with the EEOC more than doubled. Legislation against harassment slowly but surely started to pass. And I saw that we had a chance to shift this narrative.
 
Ann Cardenas: A quarter of a century later, in 2016, I settled a sexual harassment lawsuit against my supervisor, who pinned me down while I was eating, called me crude names and sent me lewd photos.
 
I was terrified to speak up—afraid of losing my job, or being physically harmed. But I got up my courage and did it. I wasn’t going to let this guy keep me from doing the job I love. 
 
Cameron Russell: Last month a friend and fellow model sent me her story of being sexual abused on set. She asked me to share her experience anonymously on Instagram. In less than 48 hours hundreds of individuals, inspired by her act of bravery, came forward too.
 
For too long, sexual harassment has been a norm in our profession. If we complain, the response is, “Well, that’s part of the job.” But our jobs should NOT include abuse.
 
Aly Raisman: Most people know me as a gymnast, but I am also a survivor: I am among a huge number of young gymnasts abused by U.S. Olympic and USA Gymnastics team doctor, Larry Nassar. This man held a position of influence and power in the sport for more than 20 years, and the extent of the harm he caused is beyond comprehension. More than 130 young women have filed lawsuits alleging abuse by Nassar, and we may never know how many others may be suffering in silence.

I stand here for all of them. I am beyond disgusted that a decorated Olympic and USA Gymnastics doctor was able to prey upon so many over such a long period of time; and until we fully understand the flaws in the system that allowed this to happen in the first place—and enabled it to continue for decades—we can’t be confident it won’t happen again.  We need more than optimistic assurances; we need answers.  We need to take a hard, honest look at the sport’s culture, governance, and leadership, so we can understand the problem, and come up with solutions that will make the sport safer for the next generations. I am determined to work towards real and meaningful change.
 
Hill: After years of not trusting our own inner voices we need to say this out loud: Women are entitled to work, and girls are entitled go to school and compete like Aly does, in places free of sexual harassment. 
 
Cardenas: This is not a fashion or a Hollywood problem; this is a power problem that exists in every profession, whether you’re a famous name, or a cop like me.
 
Russell: After hearing all these stories it would be easy to believe that power is a boss in a back room. But his power isn’t the kind that can heal, or love, or make the world more just and free.

Power looks like the thousands of individuals, who, inspired by one another’s bravery, are coming forward with their stories. Like Anita, Anna, and Aly, we are challenging the status quo — how we work, how we treat each other, and what we accept.
 
Raisman: Even if you’re not a survivor of any kind of abuse, it’s still important to show concern and compassion. We are all in this together. Sharing our stories can make it easier to talk about such an uncomfortable subject, which makes it harder for monsters to take advantage. If this is something you have experienced and want to take this time to stand up, we invite you to join us NOW.

Cardenas: If it’s happened to your co-worker, friend, girlfriend, sister, mother, daughter, son, anyone you care about…we ask you to stand with us now.

Hill: If you’re willing to commit making things better where you work or go to school, no longer looking the other way, but actively calling and pushing for change—then please, we ask you to stand with us now.
 
Russell: Look around you! Thousands of people are here, ready to unite in this moment. We are the majority. We have the power to make a more livable world. And to those who continue to speak out, we hear you.
 
Hill: For committing to a more equitable and just world for everyone, thank you.



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Cameron Russell Speaks at Glamour's Women of the Year Live Summit


Cameron Russell took to the stage at Glamour‘s Women of the Year Live Summit to talk about why and how we have to hold men accountable for their actions—especially in the modeling industry, where women are often treated as less than human.

Standing in front of a giant banner bearing the words, “We Do Not Consent,” Russell said: “People rarely spend time together without speaking, but that is what modeling is. Being in front of the camera is being silent and still finding a way to communicate, to build a relationship, to become someone without words. The silence required by my job is often mistaken for being voiceless. The assumption is that I have nothing to say. Sometimes I believed that, too. There were many moments when I found myself speechless.”

She went on to enumerate the incidents of sexual assault she experienced at the hands of powerful men in the modeling world. There was the time a man kissed her when she was 16. And the time a casting agent said he couldn’t book her because she was a virgin. Once, someone told her he couldn’t be sure if he liked her until he saw her naked.

When news broke about Harvey Weinstein’s years of sexual harassment against women, Russell began using her Instagram account to help other models share anonymous stories about their own experiences with sexual abuse in the fashion industry.

“I received too many to post, so I asked for help. And again, I saw what real power can be,” Russell said. “Real power is the 70 volunteers who said they would continue to help break the silence by posting the voices of the most vulnerable, even if it didn’t get them the most likes, even if it made the people who decide whether or not they have a job tomorrow uncomfortable.”

She concluded by saying, We [women] are the majority, and although we don’t always have the titles or the resumes or the wealth, what we do have is of much greater value. We have the power to make a much more livable world.”

Watch the video above, then read the entire speech, below.

Good morning. My name is Cameron Russell and I’ve worked as a model for the last fifteen years.

At its best, modeling is a creative partnership.

Models must be trusting. We must find a way to submit to someone else’s creative vision and direction, so that when they tell us to close our eyes, arch our back, open our lips, we do it for them. We breathe in for them, out for them. And when we open our eyes and look into the camera, it’s to look at them. And when they tell us to jump, to dance, to laugh, we do it unrestrained. Other times, it’s being vulnerable enough to lead, and expose real feeling. There’s no script in modeling, the model must own their performance.

People rarely spend time together without speaking, but that is what modeling is. Being in front of the camera is being silent and still finding a way to communicate, to build a relationship, to become someone without words.

The silence required by my job is often mistaken for being voiceless. The assumption is that I have nothing to say.

…And sometimes I believed that too. There were many moments when I found myself speechless. Like when

______ said we need to shoot a Lolita story on you. I thought, don’t they know that was a story about rape? But I said nothing.

_____ kissed me when I was 16. So quickly I thought maybe I did the fashion double kiss wrong. Did he like you? my agent asked. Maybe, I said. But we didn’t shoot again.

_____ massaged my shoulders and told me I was jailbait. No man had ever touched me before so I wondered, is this what it’s supposed to be like.

________ told me they wouldn’t book me because I was a virgin.

My job was to be their wildest dream. Because there were, we were constantly reminded, a million girls in line behind us who would do anything to take our place.

______ said he wasn’t sure he liked me until he watched me get naked to change looks. He said, I thought you were too much of a prude before, like the other girl. She’s never been kissed.

______ served alcohol to a minor. Was more than twice my age. Was my boss. I said no, but then, I said nothing.

Even when I knew _________ , ______, _____ were predators I said yes, I’ll work with them, because it felt like they all were.

________ published pictures of me exposed, even though he promised to retouch them. When I message him, he says he remembers our agreement but it just didn’t work artistically.

Yes, he’s creepy, said an agent, but he’s a genius behind the camera.

_______ pressured me to appear nude against my contract, I said no, he trailed his hand along my back and let me know he was separated from his wife, and I smiled because money was on the line.

I did not consent to any of this. No permission was requested, so none existed to give.

Nor did I acquiesce, there were acts of protest.

Nor compromise, no dispute was ever formally acknowledged by both parties, intermediaries struck the bargain.

I think the correct word is tolerate. What is the difference between tolerating and consenting? Choice.

Without tolerating these things, I couldn’t work in this industry, couldn’t have gone to my professors’ office hours when I was in college, and I couldn’t go to parties or take the subway.

The question is: What choices do we have? When whether you wanted to be a movie star or the President of the United States, you had to tolerate Harvey Weinstein, studio exec and one of the biggest donors to democratic campaigns.

If you want to be a supermodel. If you want to be a partner in a law firm, or an artist, or an entrepreneur. Or if you simply want to earn a living.…at the end of the day, way too many of the gatekeepers are abusing their power.

What is consent if the law protects him before it protects you? If you can’t speak his name because YOU will be sued. If you can’t speak his name because YOU will be fired, blacklisted, and called a problem.

What is consent when the fashion industry is 80% women but the women are almost never in charge? What is consent when worldwide 1 in 7 women who work outside the home are employed somewhere in the fashion supply chain and the majority of them do not make a livable wage? When most of these women are women of color, and yet the CEOs of all the biggest fast fashion companies and luxury brands are all men, and mostly white men? When 98% of agency represented photographers are men. 71% of creative directors are men? When there is almost no place where the women, doing the bulk of the labor, are in charge?

What is consent when selling my body and my face to the men in charge made me more money than my mother made building a company that changed an industry. Do you know other ways a young woman can come into this money? This celebrity? This access?

In seeking to get behind the gates, I tolerated harm to myself, and I was complacent in a system that too often exploits women. I didn’t think there were alternatives. I thought if I wanted to make change, first I had to be on top.

I recognize now that many others speak out with far fewer resources and far more severe consequences. It would be irresponsible of me to come up here and not acknowledge all those who have been working towards change, for years before me and at much greater personal and professional cost. Now I have the luxury of not having to care what the gatekeepers think when I start to ask: why am I waiting for their gates to open?

Why is it we want little girls to grow up to have the jobs these power hungry men have?

I wanted to be president when I was a kid. I had my favorites. When I was old enough to ask about their flaws, I was told they were “products of their time.” For example, the fact that FDR had been responsible for Japanese internment camps was unfortunate, but we learned mostly about the brilliance of the New Deal. Only later would I learn the real architect of labor protections was Frances Perkins, the first female cabinet secretary. Only later would I learn what an influence Eleanor Roosevelt had. Only later would I learn of Pauli Murray, the queer black woman who was a longtime advisor to Eleanor, and Thurgood Marshall, who was, in 1941, the only woman in her Howard Law School class, whose student paper provided the framework for the Brown v. Board victory. She knew exactly what was right and wrong. Was she not also a product of her time?

Have you ever let yourself think, maybe we shouldn’t all be looking at the predator-in-chief when he can’t get a single useful thing done?

I start to find my voice when I start to see these alternatives. When I realize the power of these few men isn’t the only power in the world. And more importantly, their power isn’t the kind that can heal, or love, or make the world more just and free.
The power of these predators is entirely structural. They cannot move people with their words or their work. They can barely make eye contact. They are not so creative, nor so uniquely talented. They are not irreplaceable. It is only because we have suppressed the vast majority that they appear this way.

There are other photographers. Jody, Christelle, Yumna, Shaniqwa, June, Jade, Zoe, Carlotta, Nadine, Oumayma, Amanda, Danielle, Amaal, Gabriela. There are other stylists, Jessica, Anatolli, Jamie, Tess. There are other creative directors. Hawa, Ashley, and Yasmin. Casting directors like Nafisa and Gilleon. Directors like Imani and Kate. Producers like Amy and Sylvia. I could keep going all day.

A month ago a friend and fellow model sent me her story of sexual abuse on set, and said, I want people to know what’s happening in our industry because I don’t want this to continue. She asked me to share it anonymously on Instagram. Less than 48 hours later, hundreds of individuals, inspired by her act of bravery, came forward too, with their stories to challenge the status quo.They told me of rapes and groping, requests for sexual favors, unwanted massage, they told me of agents who told them to stay quiet even if they were just 14, 15, or 16.

And I saw real power is making yourself vulnerable. Real power is the hundreds who came forward, even if it was painful, even if they had nothing to gain.

I received too many to post, so I asked for help. And again, I saw what real power can be. Real power is the 70 volunteers who said they would continue to help break the silence by posting the voices of the most vulnerable, even if it didn’t get them the most likes, even if it made the people who decide whether or not they have a job tomorrow uncomfortable.

It looks like we are the majority, and although we may not have the titles or the resumes or the most whiteness, maleness, straightness or wealth…what we do have is of far greater value. We have the power to make a more livable world.



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Taylor Swift Debuts a New Surprised Face After Winning Song of the Year at the CMAs


One of the hallmarks of “Old” Taylor Swift is her surprised face. You know what I’m talking about: It’s the wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression Swift made every time she scooped up an award between 2007 and 2014. The surprised face was endearing at first—because it seemed genuine—but as the years went on, some people grew skeptical of it. Swift even mocked the face in her “Look What You Made Me Do” video—and perfectly captured people’s feelings about it when she had one of her clones say, “You can’t possibly be that surprised all the time.”

Well, she can be, but the face is changing. Exhibit A: Last night’s Country Music Awards, when Swift, unsurprisingly, won Song of the Year for “Better Man” (which she wrote for the band Little Big Town). Swift wasn’t at the actual ceremony because she has Saturday Night Live rehearsals, but a friend filmed her reaction to finding out she won the big award. And her surprised face was—well, just have a look at it yourself:

It’s different, right? Instead of widening her eyes and placing her hands over her mouth, New Taylor stares at her friend intently and cocks her head. It’s the expression you made in math class when you studied all night but recognized nothing on the exam. Or the face you made when your best friend told you she’s getting back together with her scrub ex-boyfriend. It’s quite literally the face Aubrey Plaza makes in this (haunting) Parks and Recreation GIF.

In other words, it’s intense—like Swift gave her surprised face the “Bad Blood” treatment or something. But isn’t that the Reputation era in a nutshell? Even the surprised face gets a makeover.

Old Taylor might really be dead, after all…because New Surprised Face Taylor killed her. (Kidding.)

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A Year in Trumpland: 8 Women on How Their Lives Have Drastically Changed


There’s one thing—maybe only one thing—every single person in America can agree on right now: Exactly one year ago today, we woke up surprised. Maybe, the day before, you pulled the lever for now-President Donald Trump and thought, with one eye on the polls predicting Hillary Clinton‘s win, Oh, well, I said my piece. Maybe you stayed up late after voting for Clinton, watching that empty stage with its lonely blue H on TV, and felt ever more nauseous as midnight approached. Maybe you went to bed early because you hadn’t voted at all, sure that it didn’t matter. After all, nothing ever changes.

Except that by morning, everything had. And the drama hasn’t stopped since.

The next year unfolded in the kind of news gush the human brain isn’t built to handle. Women marched by the millions. Congress has tried and failed, tried again and failed again to repeal Obamacare. Details of Russian election interference that invaded even your Facebook feed continue to surface. At a more rapid clip than ever before, places became instant shorthand for tragedy and loss. Charlottesville. Las Vegas. Puerto Rico. The imminence of nuclear war is now something I check in on casually, right before I glance at the weather to see if I need a jacket.

Those are the big things, the things that used to steamroll us with their momentousness before we learned to digest them on a daily basis. But suddenly, it’s been a year, and we can see all the smaller, realer ways the election changed our lives and jobs and relationships. Almost everyone can name some parts of their day to day that look different in 2017 than they did in 2016. Here, I’ll go first: To manage my permanently ratcheted stress level, I’m working out more than ever before. I’ve gotten involved in local politics, managing a Women’s March huddle and pitching in on a city council campaign. And I’ve stopped putting up with the kind of casual prejudice that makes the cashier at my grocery store assume that because I’m white, too, she’s safe to tell me, in a mournful tone, “But oh, that neighborhood where my grandparents lived—it’s all black and Hispanic now.”

“You know what?” I responded, as she dragged my broccoli across the scanner. “I bet that’s exactly how people used to talk about your grandparents when they moved there.”

She stared at me, a little thrown. “There’s a lot of crime,” she said.

“And good people, too,” I replied. Get comfortable on that hook, lady, I was thinking. I didn’t come to let you off it.

PHOTO: Stocksy

I’ll be honest: Especially during the past year, I haven’t always been that calm or that neutral in my rhetoric. I’ve been guilty of generalizing and villainizing the people who think differently from me, and I still have many moments in which I can’t understand them at all. Reporting this piece—literally getting paid to listen to people, instead of just waiting for them to take a breath so I could cut in—helped and was humbling. (I wish I could have talked, specifically, to more women who voted for Trump. From the friends and acquaintances who lit up my social media with MAGA stuff a year ago, to professional Trump media surrogates, to women who work for Trump and Ivanka Trump brands, I got nos across the board. Hell, I couldn’t even get a response from the group called Women for Trump.)

But I’m not sure anyone else who falls on the other side of the aisle would have said something that affected me as much as what 21-year-old Abigail Bennett, whose story you’ll find below, shared at the end of our interview. I was impressed by the young College Republicans officer; I told her, when we talked about Charlottesville, that she did a far stronger job of denouncing what went on there than our president did. Before we hung up, I asked her if she wanted to run for office in the future.

She paused. “Only if the political climate becomes a little less negative,” she said finally. “I don’t want to put myself into a position where I’m miserable and nothing can get done because there’s so much hostility.”

I’m a registered Democrat; the chances of me ever voting for Abigail Bennett in the future are slim. It took a professional assignment for me to even hear her. But when she responded that way, it hit me: If the culture stays this toxic, principled and compassionate people on both sides will stand down. They’ll leave the ballot open for the sort of candidate who swims easy laps in this ugliness, who considers hate a platform and oppression a strategy. Bennett’s words are still haunting me, which I guess means that this year hasn’t finished changing my life, a little at a time, each day.

Here are more American women, in their own words, on how their lives have changed during the last year, too.

The Press Room Vet

The Press Room Vet

April Ryan, 50

White House correspondent and D.C. bureau chief, American Urban Radio Networks | Baltimore, MD

As a reporter for over two decades, April Ryan has had a chair with her name on it in the White House briefing room for a long time. But she’s had more dramatic moments during her last year of work than the last three administrations combined. (See: Former press secretary Sean Spicer admonishing Ryan to stop shaking her head, President Trump asking her, when Ryan questioned him on plans to meet with the Congressional Black Caucus, “Do you want to set up the meeting? Are they friends of yours?”) Ryan, author of At Mama’s Knee and The Presidency in Black and White, looked back on her year as a face of “fake news.”

Election night, when I saw the results, I said, “OK. Attacks will happen because he doesn’t like the press.” I didn’t know the attacks would be on me. It’s like going up against a pumice stone every day—there’s an abrasiveness, and you’re constantly feeling beaten down.
At first, I thought about leaving—but then I said no. This isn’t personal; it’s not about me. I’m a big girl, and I can handle it. I’m not going to let anyone take clothes off my kids’ backs.

This place will pull so much out of you, but I’ve learned to leave it there now. Early on, I couldn’t sleep—I was having a problem. Now, I’m doing more with friends, engaging more with people who mean well to me. When I get home, I don’t talk shop, and when people bring up the news or politics, I’m like, “Don’t talk to me about this.” It can be all-consuming, and I have a life beyond this.

PHOTO: Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

I’ve gotten several death threats this year—once when I was shaking my head and Sean took me to task. If people don’t like me acting precious, whatever. Some people just don’t want me in the room. But on Twitter, I get people saying, “Auntie April, you’re great.” They ask me, “How do you take it? I would have—” But no, you wouldn’t have cussed out Sean or Sarah Huckabee Sanders or the president. This is the White House. This is my job.

There’s crazy everywhere we turn, but I’ve learned, this year, to put it in its place. I used to think I was thin-skinned, but my skin is tougher than I thought.

The Social Media Crusader

The Social Media Crusader

Jen Statsky, 31

Writer and producer | Los Angeles, CA

There was a time when Jen Statsky was as well-known for her biting Twitter jokes as she was for her work on shows like Broad City and The Good Place. Then came Donald Trump. Since his campaign started seeming like a real thing, Statsky has been using her platform—which currently has 120,000 followers—almost exclusively as a resistance bullhorn. Statsky reflected on her year trading punchlines for punches.

I didn’t make a calculated decision to stop writing jokes on Twitter and start making my tweets about this—it’s just that my Twitter now is a genuine reaction and representation of what I’m thinking about. I didn’t know I was capable of maintaining this level of anger. When I see a tweet about something that isn’t the news now, it’s like, “Oh, right. That’s what we used to use this app for. It wasn’t a daily rage factory.”

I recently had a tweet picked up by a right-leaning website, and the trolls came out. Nine times out of ten, they go right for your appearance. There’s no way you can read it all, because there’s just so much, and at a certain point it’s like, “Alright, I get the gist. I’m an ugly cunt.” It doesn’t affect my self-esteem, but I do feel this overwhelming sadness that these are real people. These people exist, and this is what they actually think. And this idiot [President Trump], every time he tweets or talks, is mobilizing armies of trolls. The way he spoke about Hillary, people were learning: “OK, that’s how we talk about women. Got it.” I feel like the Internet is truth serum that he reveals how people still think about women—that we’re invaluable, that you can use us sexually.

I’ve had the argument with people of “What’s the point? Twitter’s an echo chamber.” Maybe that’s true, but if you have a platform at all, it’s a way to spread information. And I do try to still be one percent funny in the tweets. Though some are just me, straight serious, telling someone to fuck off.

The DACA Mom

The DACA Mom

Angelica Villalobos, 32

Immigration rights advocate | Oklahoma City, OK

Angelica Villalobos came from Mexico to Oklahoma at 11 years old. She didn’t know she was undocumented until she was 18 and asked her parents for her birth certificate, so she could get her driver’s license. The years that followed her revelation were marked by pain and fear becoming routine. Villalobos was pregnant with her third daughter when, in 2007, a debate over whether to let undocumented people into hospitals cropped up in Oklahoma. Her oldest daughter’s ADHD medication—a legally controlled substance—would go lapsed for days while Villalobos tried to find someone with a driver’s license to go with her to the pharmacy. “You feel powerless,” Villalobos said. When President Obama signed Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals legislation into law in 2012, she applied and was approved immediately. Villalobos, now an immigration rights advocate, breathed a sigh of relief. But since President Trump was elected—and since White House has announced plans to end the DACA program—she’s been holding it again.

What was really hard for me, going back to the campaign, was politicians like Sessions saying that [undocumented immigrants] are job-stealers and that we take benefits and social security—we don’t qualify for any of that. I’ve been paying taxes towards Medicare and Social Security since I was 18—before DACA, I had a ITIN number—and I don’t get any of that. I’m not complaining; what I’m saying is: President Trump didn’t just end the DACA program. He made us feel like criminals and terrorists. When you tell people to be afraid of others, it’s a very dangerous weapon. I took my 13-year-old daughter to a Bernie Sanders rally with me back before the election, and when she went to the 7-11 next door a group of white men started to harass her. They told her to go back to her country. She was born here. She’s a U.S. citizen.
My husband and I are both Dreamers. We’ve been together for 18 years. We have four daughters. The morning after the election, my 10-year-old was crying, saying, “Are we gonna have to go back to Mexico?” I tried to make it funny and said, “Well, you’ve never been to Mexico!” But inside, I had no idea what was going to happen.

PHOTO: VIEW press

I still don’t know. I don’t want my oldest daughter to have to worry about me and my husband. I want her to focus on her education. But we have talked with her about becoming her younger siblings’ guardian when she turns 18. She plans to go to college, and we’ve had to talk about having her stay in-state.

I’m afraid. I think it’s OK to be afraid sometimes. It forces you to look at your life differently, to come up with ideas to prepare for what’s coming. But I don’t want my daughters to be afraid. My youngest was always afraid of storms—she’d ask to sleep with us. Now, she’s OK with rain and thunder—but there’s this.

The Millennial-Republican Rep

The Millennial-Republican Rep

Abigail Bennett, 21

Student, University of Maine and Secretary, National Committee of the College Republicans | Oxford, ME

As an officer of the national committee of the College Republicans and the daughter of Richard Bennett, former chair of the Republican Party, University of Maine student Abby Bennett is essentially the face of young conservatives. But this administration has challenged her straight-ticket loyalty—she did not support President Trump in the election, and continues to find him problematic at best. Bennett opened up about what she’s learned this year—about herself, her peers, and the future of her party.

Politics are in my family. My dad was the chairman of the Republican party, and he’s my biggest role model. I started getting involved in high school with a Republican youth organization called Gen 207, and as soon as I got to college, I said, “Where’s the Young Republicans?” Later, I became secretary of the national committee. I’ve worked for Senator Collins—I love Senator Collins—and I really look up to Carly Fiorina, whom I thought was very outspoken and articulate during her campaign. I believe in freer markets and lower taxes. I believe that the government isn’t the solution for most problems in society.

We Republicans are the minority on campus right now. It’s difficult to put yourself out there, to sit at a table getting signatures. We face adversity all the time. Most people aren’t rude, but you have the people who want to go after you—the discourse has gotten really aggressive. But I also have people who come up to me and whisper, “I love your laptop stickers!” It’s almost like there’s a group of closeted Republicans on campus right now. They don’t want to announce who they are because of the atmosphere.

I understood why some people supported President Trump. He’s transparent, and he’s brought new conversations to the table, like the negative consequences of globalization. But when those Access Hollywood tapes got released, with him talking about women that way—I couldn’t come to terms with that. It’s just locker room talk? No. He’s running for the highest office in the land. He should be held to a higher standard. With older people, [my decision not to support Trump] was a point of contention—“if you didn’t, you’re not a true Republican.” But a lot of younger Republicans didn’t support him. People got really upset online when I condemned his comments about women on Facebook. My dad tells me not to respond to online comments, but I get really worked up about it sometimes. I don’t post as much about politics anymore on social media; I stick to positive things and nice pictures.

I think the administration has done some good things—he’s reduced regulatory costs, he’s given a voice to the manufacturing industry—and I like his authenticity. I think his lack of political correctness is a game-changer and will change how campaigns are run, hopefully for the better. But he makes sweeping generalizations about people, and he acts rude and childish. Twitter has given him a platform to be immature. I wasn’t very happy with the way he handled Charlottesville. We’ve had different people coming to our group this year, but we’re not going to accept people who are racists, who are just so far behind in our civilization. This faction is trying to become part of our party, and I will continue to make sure that they don’t. They are not welcome here.

The Mom Demanding Justice

The Mom Demanding Justice

Sheila MacLean, age withheld

Technical recruiter | Bethlehem, PA

Sheila MacLean and her husband brought their family from Austin, Texas to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania in 2013 and enrolled their two sons in the Saucon Valley School District, which is 87 percent white. Almost immediately, both boys, who are biracial and were 11 and 13 at the time, began experiencing regular racial harassment. In October 2016, just a month before the presidential election, the MacLeans’ older son punched another student—a student who had filmed him eating chicken and added racist commentary.

The district later cracked down, and the student who made the video was eventually charged with cyber harassment, but the racist behavior, MacLean says, persists. Earlier this year, the district held a meeting to discuss banning the Confederate flag on school premises. MacLean spoke at the meeting and was there to hear one board member pontificate, “You can’t handle the day-to-day bigotry, then it’s your problem…what you teach your kids is to hang in there and deal with it.” MacLean opened up about her anguished quest to make school safe for her sons.

The harassment started right away, as soon as we moved here. My sons were called the n-word in the hallway. One of them had a Confederate flag thrown over him one day. The kids told him to “wear it with pride.” My oldest son dealt with it by getting headphones to wear in the hallway, so he wouldn’t have to hear the epithets. For my job, I commute into Philadelphia or New York, and I had to stop because I would frequently be getting calls and texts from my sons saying, “Come pick me up.”

PHOTO: Stocksy

We reported these things, but there was always an atmosphere of disbelief [from the administration] and maybe even suspicion. Finally, the superintendent, whom I thank God for, got involved when someone got ahold of a note my oldest son had written on his PSSA exam, on the paper where they have to show their math work: “Please help us. They’re harassing my brother and me.” Whenever I think of that, it brings me to my knees crying. I feel like we failed our sons. We have always told them—someone bothers you, we’ll take care of it. We tried to do what was right and work within the system, but the system is not designed to help them.

Leading up to the election, I had an idea of the ramifications [of Trump winning]. But because of what my family was already going through, it just seemed so far away. Now, a year in, I jokingly say that whereas people were more circumspect before, now they’re letting their freak flags fly. Racism seems like something to be celebrated, touted as patriotism. But we’ve also been blessed to have people rally around us. Our church and our neighbors have been huge supports. I had another mom from school call me out of the blue to say, “I just heard what happened, and I am so sorry. What can I do to help?” After we were on the local news, a little old white lady at the grocery store came up to me and said, “I am so sorry. I just want you to know that we don’t all feel this way.” I don’t ever want to give the impression that everyone is like this, or even the majority, because they are not. It’s the minority, but they can be impactful.

My older son still wears his headphones in the hallways at school. My husband and I have discussed moving. But we look around right now and think, The way everything is going, where would we go?

The First-Time Candidate

The First-Time Candidate

Amy Zanelli, 36

Realtor and Candidate, County Commissioner | Lehigh County, PA

Amy Zanelli had been active in politics and community issues her whole life, stepping back only when her children were born and she stayed home to raise them. But President Trump had her concerned for the future, and all the talk around a need for more female leaders had her inspired. When the call came—literally—she answered it.

Once 45 won the primary, I started to get very nervous—and when he won, it felt like everything came crashing down. My daughters were in tears, my wife was in tears. Earlier that day, we had all been in our pantsuits with our little “nasty” name tags on. Not even 24 hours later, we saw swastikas [on the news]. For us, a lesbian Jewish family, that’s a little nerve-wracking.

I started to get very involved. I was rallying activist groups in my area and helping with the Hamilton Electors movement. My wife and I had to drag our two older daughters to the Women’s March—they didn’t get it until they got there. But after the march, they kept saying, “Mommy, are you going to run?”

I thought, “OK, I’ll run for school board.” Then the chairman of the local Democratic committee called and said she had asked some people from groups in the area whom she should recruit to run for this commissioner post, and they kept saying me.

This hasn’t been my campaign—it’s our campaign, my whole family. My daughters have been the most amazing little campaigners. My middle daughter, Maya, who’s nine, has gone out with people to teach them how to knock doors because she’s so good at it. The little one tells everyone she meets, “Vote Zanelli!” Our lives have become much more busy, but I’m still the class mom for all three of them. Sometimes I get flack [for doing parenting things when I could be campaigning], but I’m not going to ditch my kids for this office. I have to maintain a balance—I can’t just tell them they can have it all without showing them.

The hardest part of the last year has been the scrutiny. I went from this sheltered stay-at-home mom life, where I got to control almost all of the elements of my day, to being in the public spotlight. I can’t just throw my hair up in a bun and run to the supermarket anymore. But there are good parts of the spotlight, too. One of the best moments I had was when I was working a table for a local activist group at a festival. I wasn’t campaigning, but I had my button on. A group of young girls came up and one of them said, “Oh, I love Amy Zanelli!” She looked at me and said, “Wait, oh my God, are you Amy Zanelli?” She and her friends squealed like I was Taylor Swift. My daughters were there, and I’m so happy they saw that. I don’t want them to be passive observers of their world. I want them to reach out and shape it.

The Washington Insider Who Feels Like an Outsider

The Washington Insider Who Feels Like an Outsider

Rachel Bovard, 33

Senior Director of Policy, Conservative Partnership Institute | Washington, D.C.

For her entire career, Rochester native and policy analyst Rachel Bovard had been working on policy that, under a Democratic administration, was unlikely to ever become law. When last year’s election night rolled around, she didn’t expect anything to change. Then the evening wore on—and everything did.

Election night, I was at the Heritage Foundation [where Bovard worked at the time]. We had a big party. Everybody was like, “It’s gonna be another Dem. I’ll have a drink and leave.” Around 9 p.m., I saw Florida was in play. Then I saw Wisconsin and Michigan, and I was like, “Holy shit. This is real.” I’ve been working in the minority a long time, so it’s a little different for me—it was a feeling of “Oh my gosh, we’re going to have unified control of the government. This is amazing. All these policy things we’ve been toiling on in the wilderness, we’re actually going to be able to do.” That was my first thought.

I have worked around politics for a long time, and I’ve always had this detachment; it’s my job. I have a ton of friends who are progressives, and it’s been just fine until this year. Now, for the first time ever, I feel dismissed by them. They’re disgusted. I’ve lost friends I’ve known since college. Good friends, ones I want to share my life with. These people think I’m a horrible human being. I think my parents have been very hesitant to talk about what I do or share my work, and I don’t even send my brothers, who are super liberal, stuff that I write anymore. It’s super lonely that way.

PHOTO: Getty Images

People take the basest elements of Trump and use them to define everyone who supports him: “You’re a sexist. You’re a racist.” The left looks at the right and says, “You hate people. You want all brown people to die.” The right says, “No, we do care, but the rule of law matters.” We want to fix the system.

I’m not waving the flag for Trump, but I’m probably more of a Trump supporter than anyone I know. I appreciate that he’s upended this stratified, elite view of Washington. I think he’s a small and petty person, but that doesn’t matter to me. The policy matters to me. I think the shit about Charlottesville’s awful, but I don’t look at my president as a [moral] leader. I just don’t. I don’t know if that comes from my Catholicism or what, but I don’t expect him to be the North Star. You have these face-palm moments, like, “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t just handle it and not tweet that?” But I also don’t agree with the hysteria on the left. I don’t think he’s ruining our country.

I’ve never been this stressed before. I’ve done muay thai for years, and I’ve started doing that more. I started going back to my therapist. I’m sad about the world. I’m sad that we all hate each other this much.

The Former Hillary Staffer

The Former Hillary Staffer

Mary Jennings, 33

Surrogate Communications Manager, Hillary Clinton for President | Washington, D.C.

Lawyer turned communications expert Mary Jennings wasn’t looking to get into politics. But when a friend invited her in 2013 to come to a meeting about Correct the Record, an early Hillary Clinton SuperPAC, she decided to check it out. Fast forward to 2016 and Jennings was living in a Brooklyn one-bedroom with two other campaign staffers, helping to run communications for the Clinton campaign. “It wasn’t a lifestyle I wanted to sign up for,” Jennings says. “But she was that candidate for me. I’ve always admired her.” On election night, Jennings watched Clinton fall short. Thus began a year of eating, healing, and starting over. Nearly a year after that fateful night, Jennings looks back—and forward.

My day-to-day on the campaign involved writing talking points and preparing people who were going on TV that day, talking about campaign issues. It was really fun and super fast-paced. It was always a special day when Hillary came into the office. By the end of the campaign, our headquarters had something like 800 people, and she would shake every single person’s hand. It would take hours, and I felt so sorry for her, but it was really important to her.

I never had time to think about election day until it arrived. We never felt like the inevitable campaign—we were working our asses off, doing 18-20 hour days. We knew what was at stake. While the country not might have been paying full attention to how insane Donald Trump was during the campaign, we were watching it all. Every day. And we were terrified. We knew how he ran his businesses. We knew how he treated women. We knew his decades-long history of racism. Every day, we thought: “Oh my God. What if?”

My job on election night was to escort people to the suite level at the Javits center. I was running all night long—a toenail finally fell off in February because idiot me wore wedges that night. I barely looked at a TV all night long. At one point, my boss pulled me aside and said, “Hey, stay here, walk around and cheer people up. The vibe is getting down.” I was like, “Why? It’s still early. It’s going to be fine.” I don’t know what time it was—maybe 11—when my husband, who was there for support, called me and said, “Go find an empty room, Mary. She’s going to lose.” My sweet husband came into this room with more vodka drinks than I’ve ever seen one person carry. I collapsed on the floor and sobbed.

We had to be at the office the next morning because we had a week to close up this office that some people had been working in for years. There was a lot of crying that first day, but our operations team was so amazing—it seemed like something was brought in every hour. Ice cream! Donuts! Tacos! Bloody mary bar! Eat and drink to cope—that has been my 2017 mantra. Oh, and lots of HGTV.

PHOTO: Drew Angerer/Getty Images

I never went through that phase of feeling sad for myself. I felt sad for Hillary, even though she of course was holding it together, trying to make us feel better. She’s the strongest human being on the planet, in my humble opinion. To be honest, I was all right at the end of the year. It was about to be the holidays, and I hadn’t seen my family and my dogs in forever. I’d been living apart from my husband for a year. During the holidays, I watched a ton of crazy dark movies like The Revenant, Cold Mountain. I was like, “If Leo can handle being eaten by that bear, we’ll be fine! We literally had a Civil War, and look—it’s OK now.”

But come January, when the man started to govern, I hit a majorly dark depression. The first six months of the year, I was depressed. I did some work on the Supreme Court fight, consulting for a coalition that opposed Judge Gorsuch’s nomination, which also ended in a depressing outcome. I was eating and drinking way too much. Eating has been a theme; I feel like every time there’s a news alert, I’m running to the fridge. During Charlottesville, when [Trump] basically said, “Oh, it’s OK that white supremacists are marching in the streets,” I ordered edible cookie dough from Postmates. We’re living under a nuclear threat and he keeps poking [Kim Jong Un]? Now I need mac and cheese. I’ve gained the Trump 20—it’s like the freshman 15, but a lot less fun.

In the summer, things started to look a little brighter. My husband and I traveled and spent a lot of time outside. We bought bikes. Now I’m finally looking for jobs, and I feel like my life is getting on track. But things that depress me still happen all the time, like the announcement on DACA or birth control. It’s like, why?

I want to take a break from politics [professionally], but I will continue to support my progressive friends and our causes with all my heart and pocketbook. We’ve learned this year that calling your Congressman and protesting works. We’ve seen millennial and female candidates stepping up. We’re not just piling on Trump—we’re doing something about him. To see that has been uplifting. There’s still a lot of hope.

Profile images courtesy of subjects. Header: Getty Images





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Pink Reveals She Once Went a Year Without Having Sex With Her Husband


Pink has been married to her husband, motocross racer Carey Hart, for 10 years, but it hasn’t been an easy road. In February 2008, the couple announced they were separating, but thanks to couple’s counseling they reconciled two years later. Glimmers of their love story appear all over Pink’s discography, from her music video “So What”—in which Hart appears—to her songs “Just Give Me a Reason” and “True Love.”

And the singer reveals even more about her relationship in a new interview with The Guardian. Pink openly admits that being in a monogamous relationship is difficult. Somedays, she doesn’t even like Hart.

“There are moments where I look at [Hart] and he is the most thoughtful, logical, constant … he’s like a rock,” she told the publication. “He’s a good man. He’s a good dad. He’s just the kind of dad I thought he’d be and then some. And then I’ll look at him and go: I’ve never liked you. There’s nothing I like about you. We have nothing in common. I don’t like any of the shit you like. I don’t ever wanna see you again. Then two weeks later I’m like, things are going so good, you guys.”

She delves even deeper during this chat, as well, revealing there was a period when she and Hart didn’t have sex for an entire year.

“When you’ll go through times when you haven’t had sex in a year,” she said. “Is this bed death? Is this the end of it? Do I want him? Does he want me? Monogamy is work! But you do the work and it’s good again.”

It’s refreshing to see a celebrity be this candid and transparent about their personal struggles. Thanks, Pink, for showing all of us that maintaining a solid relationship isn’t easy—even when you’re rich and famous.

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'Dancing With the Stars' Season 25 Week 4: Most Memorable Year Week Brings Out Lots of Tears


Truthfully, no couple should have to go home on Dancing With the Stars‘ tear-induced “most memorable year” week—but then again, no viewer should have to go through this night without a triple pack of tissues and some ice cream either. Nick Lachey and Peta Murgatroyd, along with Derek Fisher and Sharna Burgess, were declared in jeopardy, and by the end of the episode, Tom Bergeron sent Derek and Sharna off to New York. It wasn’t a shocking elimination by any means, but it was Sharna’s earliest elimination since season 19 with Tavis Smiley.

As for Nick Lachey, it was his best dance by far—a memorable routine honoring his relationship with wife, Vanessa. She sweetly teared up throughout the rehearsal package and the performance, which you can watch here. Now, on to what else happened…

The Dances:

Frankie Munez and Witney Carson: Frankie kicked off This Is Us: The Reality Show with a somber revelation that he’s been suffering from severe memory loss over the last few years, in addition to mini strokes, also known as transient ischemic attacks. It’s all the more incredible that he’s able to compete on DWTS and memorize such elaborate routines. He wowed the audience once again with a beautiful Quickstep and three straight 8s. Score: 24/30

Terrell Owens and Cheryl Burke: Terrell opened up about his grandmother’s dementia diagnosis and death; for the first time, viewers saw a different—and welcome—side to the confident former NFL player. He broke down at the end of his Viennese Waltz, simply saying he wouldn’t be who he is today without his grandmother. Bruno said it’s his most accomplished performance to date, and Len said it was a very well-crafted routine and he “just danced great.” Score: 24/30

Nikki Bella and Artem Chigvintsev: Nikki chose 2016 as her most memorable year, citing constant pain and injuries that led to discovering her neck was about to break in half. “I was told my career was over,” she said, but she vowed not to give up. “You can try and keep this girl down, but it won’t happen.” For tonight’s dance, she delivered a stunning contemporary number to Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song.” The only thing that might have upstaged her was Artem’s bulging muscles, which could have given Rocky a run for his money. “That was such a perfect blend of a newfound artistry,” Carrie Ann said. And sexiness, Bruno added. Don’t forget the sexy. Score: 24/30

Nick Lachey and Peta Murgatroyd: Nick said his wife, Vanessa, is his soulmate, life partner, and best friend. Then, two seconds later, bam: Peta, wearing a white dress, walked down the stairs with a bouquet of flowers. Yeah, that’s not weird at all. But once they moved past that odd visual, the rest of their contemporary was strikingly beautiful and sweet. Nick was in tears, and all I can think about is where I can find a guy like that. Len said Nick danced with sensitivity; Carrie Ann said “it’s by far…your best dance, ever.” Score: 22/30

Lindsey Stirling and Mark Ballas: Lindsay revealed she’s the woman she is today because of her father, who passed away after battling cancer in 2016. He helped turn her dream of learning the violin into a reality, and if she could say one more thing to her dad, it would be “thank you.” Naturally, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Len wished there was a little bit more Viennese Waltz to the dance, but ultimately, he “loved it.” As did we all. Score: 26/30

Derek Fisher and Sharna Burgess: I feel for Derek and Sharna, because how on earth do you follow Lindsay’s story? Well, in Derek’s case (and it’s certainly not a competition), he shared the story of his daughter’s battle with retinoblastoma (eye cancer). “We didn’t know if we’d see her alive again after that…I chose to walk away from the remaining years on my contract [with the NBA Utah Jazz] to make sure my daughter was going to be OK. The surgery worked, and she’s doing OK. She’s a miracle.” Opting not to destroy the audience with another tearful dance, Derek and Sharna performed a lively ’60s-inspired Jazz routine to “Move on Up.” Of course, the minute Derek walked over to his daughter in the audience to give her a sunflower, we were a puddle of tears again. Score: 23/30

Jordan Fisher and Lindsay Arnold: Jordan revealed his biological mother had him at the age of 16 and struggled with substance abuse, so his grandparents raised him and eventually adopted him. “It literally saved my life,” he said through tears. His dance was deeply moving and emotional. “That was exquisitely flawless,” Bruno said. “It was a work of art.” You know what else it was? The first dance to receive a “10” this season. Score: 29/30

Sasha Pieterse and Gleb Savchenko: Sasha pointed out that she was 12 years old when she did the pilot for Pretty Little Liars. (12! Let that sink in for a moment before we move on.) Now she’s engaged, competing on DWTS, and about to begin a new chapter on a PLL spin-off with fellow DWTS alum, Janel Parrish. The years in between were incredibly difficult, both from battling Polycistic Ovarian Syndrome, and losing out on acting jobs. That’s a lot to convey in a dance, but Gleb and Sasha performed a solid Foxtrot that earned the judges’ praises. Score: 24/30

Vanessa Lachey and Maksim Chmerkovskiy: Vanessa revealed that her mother left her as a child on her dad’s doorstep and never returned. That alone is heartbreaking enough, but then we also learn the details about her youngest son’s difficult birth earlier this year. (He’s now OK, thank goodness). Vanessa danced a beautiful Rumba as Nick looked on with tears in his eyes, and the rest of the audience was a pile of mush. Carrie Ann said Vanessa had a bit of a wobble at one point, but “that’s real life” and it lent itself to the story. Honestly, who needs scores on a night like this? Everyone should get a 10. Score: 24/30

Drew Scott and Emma Slater: 2007 changed Drew’s life, just not in the way he expected. “My true goal was to be an actor on TV,” he revealed. “I did everything I could possibly do to make it as an actor, but it didn’t pay off.” He then remembered his dad’s advice, which was to never give up, especially on your passion. In this case—performing and real estate—became one, and then the rest as they say is history. But Drew’s story isn’t just about him; it’s also about his twin, Jonathan, who made a surprise appearance at the end of tonight’s dance and proved Drew doesn’t have all the moves in the family. “It’s undoubtedly your best dance,” Len said. Score: 24/30

Victoria Arlen and Val Chmerkovskiy: When Victoria was 11, her body started attacking itself. “I went from being a normal, happy kid to a complete vegetable,” she said. “I was having seizures every two to five minutes.” Her parents were told their daughter would die, but Victoria says “she’d be damned if this is how my story ends.” Miraculously, she recovered and began walking and talking again. And now, even without feeling in her legs, Victoria is a stunning example of what it means to never lose hope. I’m not sure if anyone saw her Foxtrot since tears were streaming down everyone’s eyes, but trust us, it was something else. Score: 27/30



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