This week, sexual assault survivors had been holding their collective breath, as the jury painfully deliberated in the retrial of my former abuser and boss, the convicted rapist, Harvey Weinstein. (Weinstein never faced charges in my case, because the statute of limitations had expired.)
The legal system creates a false narrative around the choices they made, while giving them none.
Jessica Mann, Kaja Sokola, Mimi Haley are the three brave survivors who took the witness stand, and my heart broke once more for women who put their credibility, identity and peace of mind on the line to testify, only for the trial to yield a disappointing result. On Thursday, we received the final portion of a split verdict: Weinstein was convicted on one count of first-degree criminal sexual act, acquitted on a second count of first-degree criminal sexual act, and the judge declared a mistrial after the jury deadlocked on the count of third-degree rape.
Throughout the trial, I constantly swallowed down a futility cocktail that has become all too familiar: anger, betrayal, disbelief, frustration, humiliation and isolation. Once again, women bear the brunt of the burden of proof. Every aspect of their decisions, their lifestyle and their personalities is picked over and examined.
Did you flirt? How did you dress? What did you say? Why didn’t you run? Why were you there? Did you secretly want it? No, seriously, did you…? The legal system creates a false narrative around the choices they made, while giving them none.
I was asked by a reporter how I felt during the trial, and I explained how I was torn between awe and despair for the women who are testifying again in this month’s trial: awe at their grace and strength to put themselves through this once again, on behalf of all of us survivors; and despair that the legal system is still so biased toward the accused and flawed toward survivors. But that I’m also proud to stand with survivors still fighting for justice.
And, whilst all that is undeniably true, I also think that we are — logically — making progress. It’s just hard to feel that in the current moment.
Rationally, the #MeToo movement will continue, and perhaps benefit from a softening of the harsh glare of media spotlight, which characterized its early days. Genuine legislative and policy reforms rarely happen overnight, in front of an audience of thousands. Instead, they require chipping away at the coalface: in courts of law, in state capitol buildings and in some private offices.
Away from eager reporters, front page news articles, movie magic and red carpets, advocacy work is HARD. It is not glamorous — it is boring, laborious and slow, requiring diligence, persistence and, above all, time. So, when I’m asked how it feels to have justice granted and then taken away, I would say that it’s a reminder of a central characteristic in both the advocacy journey and the healing journey: that for every step forward, there are several steps back. But the key is not to give up but know you’re in for the long haul, because that arc does bend — inexorably — toward justice.
I am often asked what I wish more people understood about coming forward and navigating the criminal justice system, and I would say that it is far more complex, far more flawed and far more stacked against the survivor than I ever imagined possible.
And yet, if you do come forward, you will not be alone. #MeToo created a groundswell of women’s voices speaking out against injustice. With or without media attention, that groundswell remains constant, those voices aren’t going away; instead, they are poised to support survivors who come forward, ready to make real change.
We have to ask — on yet another day when the justice system fails women — is this enough? In 1998, when Zelda Perkins and I spoke out against Harvey Weinstein, we were effectively alone. In 2025, I’m connected with a vast network of nonprofits who do the work of survivor-support. Recently, I joined the board of Callisto, and through its work, I’m reminded yet again of the power of survivors coming together and of voices speaking together. In, “She Said,” the reporter Megan Twohey is quoted as saying: “the only way these women are gonna go on the record is if they all jump together,” reminding us of the unstoppable power of collectivity and conviction. Yet, we have to ask — on yet another day when the justice system fails women — is this enough? Yes, the #MeToo movement has built up a strong community of survivors with a collective voice. Yes, we have made huge social change, and even legal and policy change will follow — eventually. But it is hard not to succumb to despair when you see tremendous power imbalances still remain. We have much work to do and if the legal system isn’t there yet, we have to roll up our sleeves and do this the hard way, making change through activism, advocacy and partnering with nonprofits. This work is too important to ignore. Women’s voices matter; their stories matter; their lives matter; their consent matters — and we will carry on raising our voices until we are seen.
Rowena Chiu
Rowena Chiu is a board member of Callisto, an organization that uses technology to empower survivors of sexual violence. She is also a former assistant to Harvey Weinstein, and a #MeToo advocate. She lives in Palo Alto, California, with her husband and four children. 
