Here is the thing about it all, the thing that makes me squirm with shame: I don’t want to say his name; I’m not going to. Not out of fear of him. No, he’s not who makes my throat close up, my muscles clench till they cramp, my breath come up short. He just reminds me of him, the reason for so much of my silence.

Here is the other thing about it, the one that should make you worry: no one but me and my close friends told him to stop. Not when he was harassing me, not when he was harassing countless other women. He was just “talking” with some probably fake comics fans on the internet.