“Freedom of speech actually does not include the right to incite violence,” Bower said.
The adaptogens must have been working; my brain fizzed with an alert focus.
Finally I understood what they wanted. They wanted me to say I was sorry.
I started singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in my head until my eyes filled with tears. “I love my country,” I said. “I’m actually from Wisconsin.
“I’m really sorry,” I continued. “Yes, I have clinical depression, but no, I don’t have violent thoughts or intentions. I’m an ignorant millennial and I apologize. We think we know everything, but we don’t. I thought everyone would know I was just joking about the factory fire, but I see now that I didn’t read the room.”
“What is it that you do for a living, Ms. Gelb?” Bower asked.
“I’m the COO of Richual, a pioneer in the wellness space. We use social technology to connect, cure, and catalyze women to be global changemakers through the simple act of self-care.”
They blinked at me.
“I work on making the internet a safer place for women,” I said.
Being under investigation by the Secret Service changed my life because for the first time I was on the front lines of understanding how much the elite is invested in stifling women’s voices. I will play their game if it allows me to continue my work, but I will not be silent when I see an abuse of power.
*These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.
Khadijah
There was no time to shower. I changed out of my yoga pants into jeggings and hustled to the Q, a banana in one hand and my phone in the other. In full-on damage-control mode, Katelyn had emailed the whole team, forbidding anyone from responding to questions about Evan or the article, from the press or from our own users. She added:
Devin and I are working on a statement. Maren and Khadijah are on their way in.
On the subway nobody gave up their seat for me or even looked at my face. I watched a biracial couple leaning against the doors as they kissed and sipped coffee from paper cups, kissed and sipped, kiss, kiss, kiss. Their public joy seemed uncalled for. Why couldn’t they at least pretend to be as miserable as the rest of us? I was sweating through my blouse, holding my coat in my arms like a puffy barricade.
Come back. I forget what you look like , I texted Adam.
Soon , he said. How are you feeling?
Drama at work , I typed, debating whether or not he needed all the details. His interest in following the daily play-by-play of the internet was about as great as my interest in learning the entire catalog of Phish. Whenever I talked about work Adam never remembered who was who. “Devin is the investor or Evan is the investor?”
“Devin is the CEO.”
“Which is the one who calls you K. in emails?”
“That’s Evan.”
I wanted Adam’s sympathy, but not his concern. Had to skip yoga , I said. I made a frowny face with a colon and a parenthesis, the only way to communicate my disappointment in a language his ancient cell phone would understand.
Evan had once stopped to ask if my hair was “real” during a board meeting when I was there to take notes for Maren. After streaming the ESPN doc on O.J., he was curious whether or not I believed O.J. should have been acquitted. “I was five years old during the trial,” I told him. Evan had also personally nominated me for Forbes’s 30 Under 30 list and taken me to dinner at Dirt Candy to ask what my long-term career goals were. He had never once made a pass at me.
“Is It Because I’m Black? One Woman Speaks Up About Not Being Targeted for Sexual Abuse in Her White Workplace,” I mused. I remembered all the essays I’d read online by women who’d never been catcalled, “not even by construction workers,” and how that was its own form of marginalization, not being beautiful enough to be objectified.
There was an upside to all of this. There were five board members and three of them were male investors. If Evan was ousted and a woman took his seat, Maren would have the leverage to institute a paid family leave policy across the board, even for hourly community moderators. We could give health benefits to our part-timers. I could persuade Devin that the installation of a chill lactation oasis onsite would pay for itself in positive press.
I waited at my desk to be needed. I was too distracted to do anything but play with my lavender-scented therapeutic meditation putty and check the CMS to be sure the scheduled posts met Maren’s standard of two stock photos with women of color for every one stock photo of all white women:
Are You Eating Too Much Before Your Reformer Class?
Ancient Fasting Wisdom That Will Blow Your Mind (And Clear Your Gut)
The Real Reason You Think You Need a Snack
Can’t Stop Thinking About Food? How to Stop Obsessive Thoughts When You’re Cleansing
Five Sex Toys That Will Make You Literally Give Up on Human Intimacy
If You Aren’t Doing Kegels at Your Desk Right Now, You’re Not Doing Enough
Squish squish squish.
I Slacked Diana and asked her to help me with a project in the beauty closet, the only place in the office with nontransparent walls and a door. The floor-to-ceiling storage shelves were stocked with samples of foundation in every shade of milk, cheek tint to raise skin cancer awareness, cheek tint that changed color based on your mood, cheek tint with a built-in mace spritzer, boxes of lucid dreaming tea, a Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp–themed tarot deck, individually wrapped sheet masks that said “Charcoal Power” below a drawing of a black fist, bottles of SPF 50 hairspray, blue vials of hyaluronic acid, and tiny brown jars of ashwagandha powder.
“I know her,” Diana said.
“Know who?”
“The ex-girlfriend in the article. Do you think I should text her? Tell her that I work at Richual?”
Diana seemed thrilled to be so close to the eye of the shitstorm. She wanted to be acknowledged as an essential player in the drama.
“Let’s focus,” I said. “I want you to go on Slack and tell them that we’ll share more information on Evan as soon as we have it.”
“Which Slack? The internal Slack?”
“No, the Stay Woke, Y’All Slack.” Saying the words out loud was more humiliating than seeing them on a screen. The title had to go.
“Got it,” Diana said.
“Pretend you don’t know anything because, um, you don’t know anything. Get them back on topic. I need examples of influencers who generate good conversation. Ask them—”