I was mid-hip thrust when I found out Shane Gillis had called me a whore. Technically I found out four hours later, when I reviewed the footage of Saturday Night Live. My tripod was on the bench, my ring light was clamped to the squat rack and my boyfriend Tanner was holding the back-up phone for the side angle. Tanner films all my content. He is not allowed to look at me.
Solidarity means centering yourself in other people’s trauma, in front of a camera, with good lighting
The “joke” was about how women dress at the gym. I know it was about me, because everything is. So I did what any survivor would do. I went to my car and filmed myself crying. It took 11 takes, because the lighting in a Range Rover is unforgiving, and grief is no excuse for a bad shot. In the final cut, you can see a single tear land on my sports bra right over the logo, which clicks through to an affiliate link. My caption: “I’m literally shaking.”
Then I put on the shortest shorts I own, went back inside, and filmed my ass from three angles with the caption, “Does this outfit work for you, Shane Gillis?” I wanted to send him a message that my body is not for men. To make sure Shane got the message, I tagged him. Then I tagged every man I follow. Some people say my response proved his point. These people are rapists.
One creator said it best: “She’s not dressed like a whore. You think like a rapist.” I agreed so much that I shot a reel of myself repeating that phrase to camera as I did walking lunges. Healing isn’t linear, but my glutes better be.
Women are not responsible for where men’s eyes go. That’s why I designed a garment that covers everything but the eyes, so men have nothing left to look at. It’s flowy. It’s modest. And it’s mine. It’s called the Unseen Set, it comes in oat, sage and bone, and it drops Friday for $189. Use code SHANE for 15 percent off.
To be clear: this story is bigger than me. That’s why I’ve been so brave about making it about me.
When the Lindsay Clancy trial started, I knew I had to speak. I’m not a mother. I’m a dog mom. But I posted a ten-minute video about postpartum psychosis anyway, captioned “Same, Lindsay,” because when Bellamy was a puppy, he chewed through my exercise bands and I have never recovered. Then I filmed myself throwing ice cubes at the bathtub to get the rage out. It was that or kill my dog.
And then the Cornell story broke. I posted, “I am Jane Doe” in seven separate videos. I’ve never been to Cornell. And I’ve never been sexually assaulted. But I have been in a gang bang. Solidarity means centering yourself in other people’s trauma, in front of a camera, with good lighting.
In the videos I wore my “I Am Jane Doe” sports bra. Five percent of the proceeds went to a women’s charity. Ninety-five percent went to fighting the patriarchy, which is my yearly “Women Against Me” scream retreat in Cancun. We scream naked on the grounds of the former Girls Gone Wild locations to show the progress we have made.
The only woman I can’t support is Sydney Sweeney. She took her top off for a predictiom market app and covered herself with two footballs, setting women back a hundred years. It’s sickening. She got paid. I would never take my top off for money. I take my top off for awareness.
It may be fall, my favorite season. But we don’t have time for pumpkin spice lattes anymore. We women don’t have time for “wine o’clock” when it’s fascism o’clock everywhere. My old Stanley cup said: “But First, Coffee.” The new one just says: “WHORE.”
Then I realized: Shane doesn’t get to call me a whore. I will not live under his fascist regime. Shane can’t shame me into covering my body. So I’m thrilled to announce I’ve launched an OnlyFans. Shane Gillis said women dress like whores at the gym. Now, I am one. $14.99 a month. Link in bio.
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