How revenge porn turns lives upside down Darieth Chisolm
I had about five minutes
before I was set to deliver a talk
to a bunch of business owners
about visibility and being on camera.
After all, I was
the so-called expert there,
the former 20-year television news anchor
and life and business coach.
I happened to take a look down
at my cell phone just to catch the time,
and I noticed that I had a missed call
from my ex-husband.
I can still hear his voice.
“Darieth, what is going on?
I just got a call from some strange man
who told me to go to this website,
and now I’m looking at
all of these photos of you naked.
Your private parts
are all over this website.
Who’s seen this?”
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
I was so humiliated
and so embarrassed and so ashamed.
I felt like my world was coming to an end.
And yet, this began for me
months of pain and depression
and anger and confusion and silence.
My manipulative, jealous,
stalker ex-boyfriend
did exactly what he said he would do:
he put up a website with my name on it,
and he posted this.
And this.
And several explicit photos
that he had taken of me
while I was asleep,
living with him in Jamaica.
For months prior to that,
he had been sending me
threatening text messages like this.
He was trying to make me out to be
some sleazy, low-life slut.
He had even threatened to kill me.
He told me that he would shoot me
in my head and stab me in my heart,
simply because I wanted to end
the controlling relationship.
I couldn’t believe
this was happening to me.
I didn’t even know what to call it.
You might know it as
cyberharassment or cyberbullying.
The media calls it “revenge porn.”
I now call it “digital domestic violence.”
It typically stems from
a relationship gone bad,
where a controlling, jilted ex-lover
can’t handle rejection,
so when they can’t physically
put their hands on you,
they use different weapons:
cell phones and laptops.
The ammunition?
Photos, videos, explicit information,
content – all posted online,
without your consent.
I mean, let’s face it –
we all live our lives online.
And the internet is a really small world.
We show off our baby photos,
we start and grow our businesses,
we make new relationships,
we let the world in,
one Facebook like at a time.
And you know what I found?
An even smaller world.
One in 25 women say
they have been impacted by revenge porn.
For women under the age of 30,
that number looks like one in 10.
And that leaves a few of you
in this audience as potential victims.
You want to know
what’s even more alarming?
Lack of legislation and laws
to adequately protect victims
and punish perpetrators.
There’s only one federal bill pending;
it’s called the ENOUGH Act,
by Senator Kamala Harris.
It would criminalize revenge porn.
But that could take years to pass.
So what are we left with in the meantime?
Flimsy civil misdemeanors.
Currently, only 40 states and DC
have some laws in place for revenge porn.
And those penalties vary –
we’re talking $500 fines.
Five hundred dollars?
Are you kidding me?
Women are losing their jobs.
They’re suffering
from damaged relationships
and damaged reputations.
They’re falling into illness
and depression.
And the suicide rates are climbing.
You’re looking at a woman
who spent 11 months in court,
thirteen trips to the courthouse
and thousands of dollars in legal fees,
just to get two things:
a protection from cyberstalking
and cyberabuse,
otherwise known as a PFA,
and language from a judge
that would force a third-party
internet company
to remove the content.
It’s expensive, complicated and confusing.
And worse, legal loopholes
and jurisdictional issues drag this out
for months,
while my private parts
were on display for months.
How would you feel if your naked body
was exposed for the world to see,
and you waited helplessly
for the content to be removed?
Eventually, I stumbled upon
a private company
to issue a DMCA notice
to shut the website down.
DMCA – Digital Millennium Copyright Act.
It’s a law that regulates
digital material and content.
Broadly, the aim of the DMCA is to protect
both copyright owners and consumers.
So get this:
people who take and share nude photos
own the rights to those selfies,
so they should be able to issue a DMCA
to have the content removed.
But not so fast –
because the other fight we’re dealing with
is noncompliant and nonresponsive
third-party internet companies.
And oh – by the way,
even in consenting relationships,
just because you get
a nude photo or a naked pic,
does not give you the right to share it,
even [without] the intent to do harm.
Back to my case,
which happens to be further complicated
because he was stalking and harassing me
from another country,
making it nearly impossible
to get help here.
But wait a minute –
isn’t the internet international?
Shouldn’t we have
some sort of policy in place
that broadly protects us,
regardless to borders or restrictions?
I just couldn’t give up;
I had to keep fighting.
So I willingly, on three occasions,
allowed for the invasion
of both my cell phone and my laptop
by the Department of Homeland Security
and the Jamaican Embassy
for thorough forensic investigation,
because I had maintained
all of the evidence.
I painstakingly shared my private parts
with the all-male investigative team.
And it was an embarrassing, humiliating
additional hoop to jump through.
But then something happened.
Jamaican authorities
actually arrested him.
He’s now facing charges
under their malicious communications act,
and if found guilty, could face
thousands of dollars in fines
and up to 10 years in prison.
And I’ve also learned that my case
is making history –
it is the first international case
under this new crime.
Wow, finally some justice.
But this got me to thinking.
Nobody deserves this.
Nobody deserves this level of humiliation
and having to jump through
all of these hoops.
Our cyber civil rights are at stake.
Here in the United States,
we need to have clear, tough enforcement;
we need to demand the accountability
and responsiveness from online companies;
we need to promote social responsibilities
for posting, sharing and texting;
and we need to restore dignity to victims.
And what about victims
who neither have the time,
money or resources to wage war,
who are left disempowered,
mislabeled and broken?
Two things:
release the shame and end the silence.
Shame is at the core of all of this.
And for every silent prisoner of shame,
it’s the fear of judgment
that’s holding you hostage.
And the price to pay
is the stripping away of your self-worth.
The day I ended my silence,
I freed myself from shame.
And I freed myself
from the fear of judgment
from the one person who I thought
would judge me the most –
my son,
who actually told me,
“Mom, you are the strongest
person that I know.
You can get through this.
And besides, mom – he chose
the wrong woman to mess with.”
(Laughter)
(Applause)
It was on that day that I decided
to use my platform
and my story and my voice.
And to get started, I asked myself
this one simple question:
Who do I need to become now?
That question, in the face of everything
that I was challenged with,
transformed my life and had me thinking
about all kinds of possibilities.
I now own my story, I speak my truth,
and I’m narrating
a new chapter in my life.
It’s called “50 Shades of Silence.”
It’s a global social justice project,
and we’re working to film
an upcoming documentary
to give voice and dignity to victims.
If you are a victim or you know
someone who is, know this:
in order to be empowered,
you have to take care of yourself,
and you have to love yourself.
You have to turn your anger into action,
your pain into power
and your setback into a setup
for what’s next for your life.
This is a process, and it’s a journey
of self-discovery
that might include forgiveness.
But it definitely requires bravery,
confidence and conviction.
I call it:
finding your everyday courage.
Thank you.
(Applause)