You're looking at a woman who was publicly silent for a decade. Obviously, that's changed, but only recently.
Gledate žensko, ki desetletje ni spregovorila v javnosti. To se je očitno spremenilo, a le pred kratkim.
It was several months ago that I gave my very first major public talk, at the Forbes "30 Under 30 Summit" -- 1,500 brilliant people, all under the age of 30. That meant that in 1998, the oldest among the group were only 14, and the youngest, just four. I joked with them that some might only have heard of me from rap songs. Yes, I'm in rap songs.
Pred nekaj meseci sem imela svoj prvi veliki javni nastop na Forbesovem srečanju 30 ljudi pod 30 let. 1500 brilijantnih ljudi, vsi stari manj kot 30 let. To pomeni, da so bili leta 1998 najstarejši v tej skupini stari le 14 let in najmlajši le 4. Pohecala sem se, da so nekateri slišali zame le v rap pesmih.
(Laughter)
Tako je, v rap pesmih sem.
Almost 40 rap songs.
V skoraj 40 rap pesmih.
(Laughter)
But the night of my speech, a surprising thing happened. At the age of 41, I was hit on by a 27-year-old guy.
A na večer mojega govora se je zgodilo nekaj presenetljivega. Pri mojih 41 letih me je osvajal 27-letnik.
(Laughter)
I know, right? He was charming, and I was flattered, and I declined. You know what his unsuccessful pickup line was? He could make me feel 22 again.
Vem. Bil je očarljiv in bila sem polaskana in zavrnila sem ga. Veste, s čim me je neuspešno poskušal očarati? Da se bom z njim počutila spet kot 22-letnica.
(Laughter)
(Smeh) (Aplavz)
(Applause)
I realized, later that night, I'm probably the only person over 40 who does not want to be 22 again.
Kasneje sem spoznala, da sem najbrž edina oseba nad 40, ki noče imeti spet 22 let.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplavz)
At the age of 22, I fell in love with my boss. And at the age of 24, I learned the devastating consequences.
Pri 22 letih sem se zaljubila v svojega šefa, in pri 24-ih sem spoznala uničujoče posledice.
Can I see a show of hands of anyone here who didn't make a mistake or do something they regretted at 22? Yep. That's what I thought. So like me, at 22, a few of you may have also taken wrong turns and fallen in love with the wrong person, maybe even your boss. Unlike me, though, your boss probably wasn't the president of the United States of America.
Lahko dvignete roke tisti, ki niste naredili napake ali nečesa, kar obžalujete, pri 22-ih? Ja. Se mi je kar zdelo. Tako ste, kot jaz, naredili nekaj napačnih stvari, se zaljubili v napačno osebo, morda celo v svojega šefa. A za razliko od mene vaš šef najbrž ni bil predsednik Združenih držav Amerike.
(Laughter)
Of course, life is full of surprises.
Seveda, življenje je polno presenečenj.
Not a day goes by that I'm not reminded of my mistake, and I regret that mistake deeply.
Ne mine dan, da me ne bi opomnili na to napako, in to napako globoko obžalujem.
In 1998, after having been swept up into an improbable romance, I was then swept up into the eye of a political, legal and media maelstrom like we had never seen before. Remember, just a few years earlier, news was consumed from just three places: reading a newspaper or magazine, listening to the radio or watching television. That was it. But that wasn't my fate. Instead, this scandal was brought to you by the digital revolution. That meant we could access all the information we wanted, when we wanted it, anytime, anywhere. And when the story broke in January 1998, it broke online. It was the first time the traditional news was usurped by the internet for a major news story -- a click that reverberated around the world.
Leta 1998, ko me je poneslo v neverjetno romanco, me je poneslo tudi v politični, pravni in medijski vrtinec, kot ga še nismo videli. Spomnite se, samo nekaj let prej smo novice dobili iz treh virov: z branjem časopisa ali revije, poslušanjem radia ali gledanjem televizije. To je bilo vse. A to ni bila moja usoda. Namesto tega vam je ta škandal prinesla digitalna revolucija. To je pomenilo, da smo lahko dostopali do informacij, ki smo jih želeli, ko smo jih želeli, kadarkoli, kjerkoli in ko je zgodba januarja 1998 izbruhnila, je izbruhnila na internetu. Prvič je tradicionalne novice izpodrinil internet pri veliki novici, klik, ki je odmeval po vsem svetu.
What that meant for me personally was that overnight, I went from being a completely private figure to a publicly humiliated one, worldwide. I was patient zero of losing a personal reputation on a global scale almost instantaneously.
To je zame osebno pomenilo, da sem se čez noč prelevila iz popolnoma zasebne osebe v javno ponižano po vsem svetu. Bila sem pacient številka nič pri izgubi osebnega ugleda na globalni ravni skoraj v trenutku.
This rush to judgment, enabled by technology, led to mobs of virtual stone-throwers. Granted, it was before social media, but people could still comment online, e-mail stories, and, of course, e-mail cruel jokes. News sources plastered photos of me all over to sell newspapers, banner ads online, and to keep people tuned to the TV. Do you recall a particular image of me, say, wearing a beret?
Ta poziv k obsojanju, ki ga je omogočala tehnologija, je tolpam omogočil, da so me virtualno kamenjale. Res je, to je bilo pred družabnimi omrežji, a ljudje so še vedno lahko komentirali na spletu, si pošiljali zgodbe in seveda, pošiljali krute šale. Moje fotografije so bile povsod v novicah, za prodajo časopisov, spletne oglase in da so bili ljudje pred televizijo. Se spominjate kakšne določene moje slike, na primer z baretko?
Now, I admit I made mistakes -- especially wearing that beret.
Priznam, naredila sem veliko napak, še posebej, da sem nosila tisto baretko.
(Laughter)
But the attention and judgment that I received -- not the story, but that I personally received -- was unprecedented. I was branded as a tramp, tart, slut, whore, bimbo, and, of course, "that woman." I was seen by many, but actually known by few. And I get it: it was easy to forget that that woman was dimensional, had a soul and was once unbroken.
A pozornost in obsojanje, ki sem ju prejela jaz, ne zgodba, ki sem ju prejela jaz osebno, je bil brez primere. Označili so me za vlačugo, cipo, kurbo, lovačo, trapo. In seveda, za "tisto žensko". Videli so me mnogi, a poznali le redki. Saj razumem, lahko je bilo pozabiti, da je bila ta oseba iz mesa in krvi, da ima dušo, in da nekoč ni bila zlomljena.
When this happened to me 17 years ago, there was no name for it. Now we call it "cyberbullying" and "online harassment." Today, I want to share some of my experience with you, talk about how that experience has helped shape my cultural observations, and how I hope my past experience can lead to a change that results in less suffering for others.
Ko se mi je to pred 17 leti zgodilo, ni imelo imena. Sedaj to imenujemo spletno nadlegovanje. Danes želim z vami deliti nekaj svojih izkušenj, govoriti o tem, kako so moje izkušnje izoblikovale moja kulturna opažanja, in kako upam, da bodo moje izkušnje vodile v spremembo, ki bo povzročila manj trpljenja drugim.
In 1998, I lost my reputation and my dignity. I lost almost everything. And I almost lost my life.
Leta 1998 sem izgubila svoj ugled in dostojanstvo. Izgubila sem skoraj vse in skoraj izgubila življenje.
Let me paint a picture for you. It is September of 1998. I'm sitting in a windowless office room inside the Office of the Independent Counsel, underneath humming fluorescent lights. I'm listening to the sound of my voice, my voice on surreptitiously taped phone calls that a supposed friend had made the year before. I'm here because I've been legally required to personally authenticate all 20 hours of taped conversation. For the past eight months, the mysterious content of these tapes has hung like the sword of Damocles over my head. I mean, who can remember what they said a year ago? Scared and mortified, I listen, listen as I prattle on about the flotsam and jetsam of the day; listen as I confess my love for the president, and, of course, my heartbreak; listen to my sometimes catty, sometimes churlish, sometimes silly self being cruel, unforgiving, uncouth; listen, deeply, deeply ashamed, to the worst version of myself, a self I don't even recognize.
Naj vam naslikam sliko. September leta 1998 je. Sedim v pisarni brez oken, znotraj Urada posebnega tožilca, pod brnečo fluorescentno lučjo. Poslušam svoj glas, moj glas na na skrivaj posnetih telefonskih klicih, ki jih je moja "prijateljica" posnela leto prej. Tu sem, ker sem morala po zakonu osebno identificirati vseh 20 ur posnetega pogovora. Preteklih osem mesecev je skrivnostna vsebina teh kaset kot Damoklejev meč visela nad mojo glavo. Mislim, kdo se lahko spominja, kaj je rekel pred letom dni? Prestrašena in osramočena sem poslušala, poslušala, kako blebetam o vsakodnevnih stvareh; poslušala, kako priznam svojo ljubezen do predsednika in seveda, moje zlomljeno srce; poslušam se, kako sem včasih zajedljiva, včasih sitna, včasih trapasta, kruta, neodpuščajoča, neotesana; poslušam, globoko, globoko osramočena, najslabšo verzijo sebe, ki je sploh ne prepoznam.
A few days later, the Starr Report is released to Congress, and all of those tapes and transcripts, those stolen words, form a part of it. That people can read the transcripts is horrific enough. But a few weeks later, the audiotapes are aired on TV, and significant portions made available online. The public humiliation was excruciating. Life was almost unbearable.
Nekaj dni kasneje je Starr poročilo predal Kongresu in vse te kasete in prepisi, te ukradene besede, so del tega. Da lahko ljudje preberejo prepise, je že dovolj grozno, a nekaj tednov kasneje vrtijo avdio kasete po televiziji in velik del je dosegljiv na spletu. Javno ponižanje je bilo neznosno. Življenje je bilo skoraj nevzdržno.
This was not something that happened with regularity back then in 1998, and by "this," I mean the stealing of people's private words, actions, conversations or photos, and then making them public -- public without consent, public without context and public without compassion.
Leta 1998 se kaj takega ni redno dogajalo in s tem mislim na krajo zasebnih besed, dejanj, pogovorov in fotografij, ki so nato postale javne -- javne brez privolitve, javne brez konteksta in javne brez sočutja.
Fast-forward 12 years, to 2010, and now social media has been born. The landscape has sadly become much more populated with instances like mine, whether or not someone actually made a mistake, and now, it's for both public and private people. The consequences for some have become dire, very dire.
Zavrtimo 12 let naprej v 2010 in rodila so se družabna omrežja. Ta pokrajina je bila veliko bolj poseljena s primeri, kot je bil moj, ne glede na to, ali je nekdo dejansko naredil napako, in je sedaj tako za javno kot za zasebno življenje. Posledice so bile za nekatere hude, zelo hude.
I was on the phone with my mom in September of 2010, and we were talking about the news of a young college freshman from Rutgers University, named Tyler Clementi. Sweet, sensitive, creative Tyler was secretly webcammed by his roommate while being intimate with another man. When the online world learned of this incident, the ridicule and cyberbullying ignited. A few days later, Tyler jumped from the George Washington Bridge to his death. He was 18.
Po telefonu sem govorila svojo mamo, septembra leta 2010, in pogovarjali sva se o novici o študentu prvega letnika z Univerze Rutgers po imenu Tyler Clementi. Prijaznega, nežnega, ustvarjalnega Tylerja je na skrivaj posnel njegov sostanovalec, medtem ko je bil intimen z moškim. Ko je splet izvedel za ta incident, se je začelo norčevanje in spletno nadlegovanje. Čez nekaj dni je Tyler skočil z mostu Georgea Washingtona v smrt. Bil je star 18 let.
My mom was beside herself about what happened to Tyler and his family, and she was gutted with pain in a way that I just couldn't quite understand. And then eventually, I realized she was reliving 1998, reliving a time when she sat by my bed every night, reliving -- (Chokes up)
Mama je bila razburjena zaradi tega, kar se je zgodilo Tylerju in družini, in bila je polna bolečine na način, ki ga nisem čisto razumela, a sčasoma sem spoznala, da je podoživljala leto 1998, podoživljala čas, ko je vsako noč sedela ob moji postelji, podoživljala čas, ko sem se morala tuširati z odprtimi vrati,
sorry -- reliving a time when she made me shower with the bathroom door open, and reliving a time when both of my parents feared that I would be humiliated to death, literally.
in podoživljala čas, ko so se moji starši bali, da bi bila ponižana do smrti, dobesedno.
Today, too many parents haven't had the chance to step in and rescue their loved ones. Too many have learned of their child's suffering and humiliation after it was too late. Tyler's tragic, senseless death was a turning point for me. It served to recontextualize my experiences, and I then began to look at the world of humiliation and bullying around me and see something different.
Danes vse preveč staršev nima možnosti ukrepati in rešiti svojih dragih. Preveč jih je izvedelo za trpljenje in ponižanje svojega otroka, ko je bilo že prepozno. Tylerjeva tragična, nesmiselna smrt je bila zame prelomna točka. Moje izkušnje je postavila v nov kontekst in nato sem začela gledati na svet poniževanja in nasilništva okrog sebe in videla nekaj drugega.
In 1998, we had no way of knowing where this brave new technology called the internet would take us. Since then, it has connected people in unimaginable ways -- joining lost siblings, saving lives, launching revolutions ... But the darkness, cyberbullying, and slut-shaming that I experienced had mushroomed. Every day online, people -- especially young people, who are not developmentally equipped to handle this -- are so abused and humiliated that they can't imagine living to the next day. And some, tragically, don't. And there's nothing virtual about that.
Leta 1998 nismo mogli vedeti, kam nas bo ta krasna nova tehnologija, imenovana internet, ponesla. Od takrat je povezala ljudi na nepredstavljive načine, združila izgubljene brate in sestre, rešila življenja, sprožila revolucije, a tema, spletno nasilje in zmerjanje z vlačugo, ki sem jih izkusila jaz, so se razbohotili. Vsak dan so na spletu ljudje, še posebej mladi, ki še niso tako razviti, da bi se spoprijeli s tem, tako zlorabljeni in ponižani, da si ne predstavljajo več življenja in nekateri ga, tragično, tudi ne doživijo in v tem ni prav nič virtualnega.
Childline, a UK nonprofit that's focused on helping young people on various issues, released a staggering statistic late last year: from 2012 to 2013, there was an 87 percent increase in calls and e-mails related to cyberbullying. A meta-analysis done out of the Netherlands showed that for the first time, cyberbullying was leading to suicidal ideations more significantly than offline bullying. And you know, what shocked me -- although it shouldn't have -- was other research last year that determined humiliation was a more intensely felt emotion than either happiness or even anger.
ChildLine (Linija za otroke), neprofitna organizacija iz VB, ki pomaga mladim, je lani izdala neverjetno statistiko: med letoma 2012 in 2013 so opazili 87-odstotno rast klicev in elektronske pošte glede spletnega nadlegovanja. Meta-analiza, narejena na Nizozemskem, je prvič pokazala, da spletno nasilje vodi v samomorilne namene veliko bolj kot nasilje izven spleta. In veste, kaj me je šokiralo, pa me ne bi smelo: druga raziskava iz lanskega leta, ki je dokazala, da je ponižanje bolj intenzivno čustvo kot sreča ali celo jeza.
Cruelty to others is nothing new. But online, technologically enhanced shaming is amplified, uncontained and permanently accessible. The echo of embarrassment used to extend only as far as your family, village, school or community. But now, it's the online community too. Millions of people, often anonymously, can stab you with their words, and that's a lot of pain. And there are no perimeters around how many people can publicly observe you and put you in a public stockade. There is a very personal price to public humiliation, and the growth of the internet has jacked up that price.
Krutost do drugih ni nič novega, a spletno, tehnološko izboljšano sramočenje je okrepljeno, neomejeno in trajno dosegljivo. Odmev sramu je včasih segel samo do tvoje družine, vasi, šole ali skupnosti, a sedaj gre tudi za spletno skupnost. Milijoni ljudi, pogosto anonimno, te lahko zabodejo s svojimi besedami in to je veliko bolečine in nobene meje ni, koliko ljudi te lahko javno opazuje in te postavi v javni zapor. Cena javnega ponižanja je zelo osebna in rast interneta je dvignila to ceno.
For nearly two decades now, we have slowly been sowing the seeds of shame and public humiliation in our cultural soil, both on- and offline. Gossip websites, paparazzi, reality programming, politics, news outlets and sometimes hackers all traffic in shame. It's led to desensitization and a permissive environment online, which lends itself to trolling, invasion of privacy and cyberbullying. This shift has created what Professor Nicolaus Mills calls "a culture of humiliation." Consider a few prominent examples just from the past six months alone. Snapchat, the service which is used mainly by younger generations and claims that its messages only have the life span of a few seconds. You can imagine the range of content that that gets. A third-party app which Snapchatters use to preserve the life span of the messages was hacked, and 100,000 personal conversations, photos and videos were leaked online, to now have a life span of forever. Jennifer Lawrence and several other actors had their iCloud accounts hacked, and private, intimate, nude photos were plastered across the internet without their permission. One gossip website had over five million hits for this one story. And what about the Sony Pictures cyberhacking? The documents which received the most attention were private e-mails that had maximum public embarrassment value.
Že skoraj dve desetletji počasi sejemo semena sramote in javnega ponižanja na na naši kulturni zemlji na spletu in izven njega. Rumene strani, paparaci, resničnostni programi, politika, novičarske strani in včasih hekerji preprodajajo sramoto. To je vodilo v razosebljenje in permisivno spletno okolje, kar vodi v "trolanje", poseganje v zasebnost in spletno nedlegovanje. Ta premik je ustvaril to, kar profesor Nicolaus Mills imenuje kultura ponižanja. Pomislite samo na nekaj odmevnih primerov iz zadnjih šestih mesecev. Snapchat, ki ga uporablja predvsem mlajša generacija, in trdi, da imajo sporočila tam življenjsko dobo le nekaj sekund. Lahko si predstavljate spekter vsebine, ki je tam. V zunanjo aplikacijo, ki jo Snapchaterji uporabljajo da ohranijo sporočila, so vdrli in sto tisoč osebnih pogovorov, fotografij in videov je bilo objavljenih na spletu, kjer imajo neomejeno življenjsko dobo. Jennifer Lawrence in še nekaj drugim igralcem so v vdrli v račun iCloud in njihove zasebne, intimne, gole fotografije so prekrile internet brez njihovega dovoljenja. Neka rumena stran je imela več kot 5 milijonov zadetkov za eno samo zgodbo. Kaj pa vdor v Sony Pictures? Največ pozornosti je dobila zasebna elektronska pošta, ki je povzročila največjo javno sramoto.
But in this culture of humiliation, there is another kind of price tag attached to public shaming. The price does not measure the cost to the victim, which Tyler and too many others -- notably, women, minorities and members of the LGBTQ community -- have paid, but the price measures the profit of those who prey on them. This invasion of others is a raw material, efficiently and ruthlessly mined, packaged and sold at a profit. A marketplace has emerged where public humiliation is a commodity, and shame is an industry. How is the money made? Clicks. The more shame, the more clicks. The more clicks, the more advertising dollars. We're in a dangerous cycle. The more we click on this kind of gossip, the more numb we get to the human lives behind it. And the more numb we get, the more we click. All the while, someone is making money off of the back of someone else's suffering. With every click, we make a choice. The more we saturate our culture with public shaming, the more accepted it is, the more we will see behavior like cyberbullying, trolling, some forms of hacking and online harassment. Why? Because they all have humiliation at their cores. This behavior is a symptom of the culture we've created. Just think about it.
A v tej kulturi poniževanja ima javno poniževanje še eno ceno. Ta cena ne meri škode pri žrtvi, ki so jo Tyler in premnogi drugi, še posebej ženske, manjšine in člani LGBTQ plačali, ampak meri dobiček tistih, ki prežijo na njih. Vdor v življenje drugih je surovina, učinkovito in neusmiljeno pridobljena, zapakirana in prodana za dobiček. Pojavil se je trg, kjer je javno ponižanje dobrina in sramota je industrija. Kako se dela denar? S kliki. Več je sramote, več je klikov. Več je klikov, več je oglaševalskega denarja. V nevarnem krogu se vrtimo. Več ko klikamo na take vrste tračev, bolj otopeli postajamo glede življenj za njimi, in bolj otopeli kot smo, več klikamo. In medtem nekdo služi denar na plečih trpljenja nekoga drugega. Z vsakim klikom se odločimo. Bolj ko polnimo našo kulturo z javnim sramotenjem, bolje je sprejeto in več bo obnašanja, kot so spletno nadlegovanje, trolanje, vdori v sisteme in spletno nadlegovanje. Zakaj? Ker imajo v svojem jedru vsi ponižanje. To obnašanje je simptom kulture, ki smo jo ustvarili. Samo pomislite.
Changing behavior begins with evolving beliefs. We've seen that to be true with racism, homophobia and plenty of other biases, today and in the past. As we've changed beliefs about same-sex marriage, more people have been offered equal freedoms. When we began valuing sustainability, more people began to recycle. So as far as our culture of humiliation goes, what we need is a cultural revolution. Public shaming as a blood sport has to stop, and it's time for an intervention on the internet and in our culture.
Sprememba obnašanja se začne z razvojem prepričanj. To se je zgodilo z rasizmom, homofobijo in drugimi predsodki danes in v preteklosti. Ko smo spremenili mišljenje o istospolnih porokah, je več ljudi dobilo enake pravice. Ko smo začeli ceniti obnovljive vire, je več ljudi začelo reciklirati. Kar se tiče naše kulture poniževanja, potrebujemo kulturno revolucijo. Javno poniževanje kot krvavi šport se mora nehati in čas je za intervencijo na internetu in v naši kulturi.
The shift begins with something simple, but it's not easy. We need to return to a long-held value of compassion, compassion and empathy. Online, we've got a compassion deficit, an empathy crisis.
Premik se začne z nečim preprostim, a to ni lahko. Vrniti se moramo k stari vrlini sočutja -- Sočutje in empatija. Na spletu primanjkuje sočutja in vlada kriza empatije.
Researcher Brené Brown said, and I quote, "Shame can't survive empathy." Shame cannot survive empathy. I've seen some very dark days in my life. It was the compassion and empathy from my family, friends, professionals and sometimes even strangers that saved me. Even empathy from one person can make a difference. The theory of minority influence, proposed by social psychologist Serge Moscovici, says that even in small numbers, when there's consistency over time, change can happen. In the online world, we can foster minority influence by becoming upstanders. To become an upstander means instead of bystander apathy, we can post a positive comment for someone or report a bullying situation. Trust me, compassionate comments help abate the negativity. We can also counteract the culture by supporting organizations that deal with these kinds of issues, like the Tyler Clementi Foundation in the US; in the UK, there's Anti-Bullying Pro; and in Australia, there's PROJECT ROCKIT.
Raziskovalka Brené Brown je dejala, citiram: "Sramota ne more preživeti empatije." Sramota ne more preživeti empatije. V svojem življenju sem imela nekaj zelo temnih dni in prav sočutje in empatija moje družine, prijateljev, strokovnjakov in včasih celo neznancev, sta me rešila. Celo sočutje ene osebe lahko naredi razliko. Teorija vpliva manjšine, ki jo je predlagal socialni psiholog Serge Moscovici, pravi, da celo v majhnem številu, kjer obstaja stabilnost skozi čas, lahko pride do spremembe. Na spletu lahko spodbujamo vpliv manjšine, tako da postanemo aktivni očividci. Postati aktivni očividec pomeni, da namesto apatije opazovalca napišemo pozitiven komentar nekomu ali pa prijavimo nasilje. Verjemite mi, sočutni komentarji lahko pomagajo zmanjšati negativnost. Lahko nasprotujemo tej kulturi tako, da podpiramo organizacije, ki se ukvarjajo s takimi problemi, kot je Fundacija Tyler Clementija v ZDA, v VB je to Anti-Bullying Pro in v Avstraliji je to Project Rockit.
We talk a lot about our right to freedom of expression. But we need to talk more about our responsibility to freedom of expression. We all want to be heard, but let's acknowledge the difference between speaking up with intention and speaking up for attention. The internet is the superhighway for the id. But online, showing empathy to others benefits us all and helps create a safer and better world. We need to communicate online with compassion, consume news with compassion and click with compassion. Just imagine walking a mile in someone else's headline.
Veliko govorimo o pravici do svobode izražanja, a več bi morali govoriti o odgovornosti pri svobodi izražanja. Vsi želimo biti slišani, a priznajmo razliko med govorjenjem z namenom in govorjenjem za pozornost. Internet je kot super avtocesta za id, a na spletu izkazovanje sočutja drugim pomaga vsem in pomaga ustvariti varnejši in boljši svet. Na spletu moramo komunicirati s sočutjem, brati novice s sočutjem in klikati s sočutjem. Predstavljate si hojo z naslovom nekoga drugega.
I'd like to end on a personal note. In the past nine months, the question I've been asked the most is "Why?" Why now? Why was I sticking my head above the parapet? You can read between the lines in those questions, and the answer has nothing to do with politics. The top-note answer was and is "Because it's time." Time to stop tiptoeing around my past, time to stop living a life of opprobrium and time to take back my narrative.
Rada bi končala z osebnim sporočilom. V zadnjih devetih mesecih je bilo vprašanje, ki sem ga največkrat prejela, zakaj. Zakaj sedaj? Zakaj sem vznemirjala ljudi? Lahko berete med vrsticami pri teh vprašanjih in odgovor nima nič s politiko. Glavni odgovor je, da zato, ker je čas: čas, da neham okolišiti okrog svoje preteklosti, čas, da neham živeti življenje v sramoti, in čas, da vzamem svojo zgodbo v svoje roke.
It's also not just about saving myself. Anyone who is suffering from shame and public humiliation needs to know one thing: You can survive it. I know it's hard. It may not be painless, quick or easy, but you can insist on a different ending to your story. Have compassion for yourself. We all deserve compassion and to live both online and off in a more compassionate world.
Tu ne gre samo za reševanje same sebe. Vsakdo, ki trpi zaradi sramote in javnega ponižanja, mora vedeti eno stvar: to lahko preživiš. Vem, da je težko. Morda ne bo neboleče, hitro ali lahko, ampak lahko vztrajaš pri drugačnem koncu tvoje zgodbe. Bodi sočuten sam s sabo. Vsi si zaslužimo sočutje in živeti na spletu in izven njega v bolj sočutnem svetu.
Thank you for listening.
Hvala, da ste me poslušali.
(Applause and cheers)
(Aplavz)