“What are you—a sex psychic?” Maren asked.
Sharona looked at me and gestured to the massage chair, my only shot at escape. I shook my head.
“If someone accused you of abusing them, I would defend you,” Devin said. “Because that’s how much I care about you.”
“I can’t imagine a scenario in which I would abuse someone.”
“Exactly.”
“Has anyone spoken to Evan?” I asked.
Katelyn shook her head at me.
“I already know my opinion,” Devin said. “My opinion about Evan is that he’s innocent. As a woman, am I allowed to have an opinion, or . . . ?”
Maren took her hair down, twisted it, pinned it back up, and straddled the massage chair. “This is about our company values. Women are people. All people are human beings. Believe women. Those first three commandments are what we stand for. It’s bigger than you, Devin. It’s bigger than any of us.”
“I also want to know why,” Devin said, “Kimberly Hartsong is posting the name of her abuser”—abuser in air quotes—“on Richual. Is that not explicit in the FAQ that you made, Maren? About how to write powerful confessional content? No names?”
“I had nothing to do with Kimberly’s post,” Maren said. “I have not interacted with her once.”
“I think you at least owe me an apology about the MAGA comment.” Her cheeks burned pink.
“You’re right,” Maren said. “I’m sorry. You would never be seen in something so ugly.”
“I’m confident there’s a way to balance our support of Evan and our female empowerment messaging,” Katelyn said. “I’ll have another draft in a sec.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I really have to pee.”
“Are you drinking too much water?” Devin called after me. “Drinking too much water is dangerous!”
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
March 1, 2017
RICHUAL STANDS BEHIND BOARD MEMBER EVAN WILEY
INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY: QUESTIONS REMAIN ABOUT SEXUAL ASSAULT ALLEGATIONS AGAINST FEMINIST ALLY EVAN WILEY
HAPPY WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH FROM ALL OF US AT RICHUAL
Whether you’re booking a spa day scheduling a session with your energy worker, sharing a cold bottle (or two) of Cava with your besties, or committing to a thirty-day gut-balancing reset in the Richual app (#YouGotThis), Women’s History Month is the perfect time to honor the strength and courage of the amazing women who’ve come before us by taking care of our whole selves so we have the energy to make history.
Here at Richual, we’re making history by employing a diverse staff of 100 percent women who are 100 percent themselves every day.
“It’s unfortunate when women believe the only power they have is in taking successful women down,” CEO Devin Avery remarks. “That these allegations would come to light when we’re on the verge of closing on our Series B is . . . I have to raise an eyebrow at that.”
Together, we’re supporting women by building a digital product that supports that shows that you’re not alone in trying to live your best life to find optimum balance in your career, relationships, and well-being.
“It has been one of the great privileges of my career to see how Richual has lifted up so many women’s voices,” COO Maren Gelb says. “All over the world, women have been through so many painful experiences and to be able to create a community where the stories of those experiences can be shared is a tremendous opportunity and also a responsibility I take very seriously.”
Regarding the sexual behavioral misconduct allegations against Evan Wiley, a Richual board member and longtime feminist ally, CEO Devin Avery says, “At Richual, we believe women. We also know that, sadly, a small percentage of these kinds of allegations are falsely reported and sadly, this is one of those tiny percentages. It is a shame that these are not real victims, but I pray that this unfortunate circumstance will not silence the true victims of abusive men that are still out there.”
In honor of #WomensHistoryMonth, check out our slideshow of the pioneering women who have changed health history in the United States, from Jane Fonda to Margaret Sanger to Michelle Obama to Lulu Hunt Peters, who taught America calorie counting in 1918. #Legend
Devin
I left the office at 5:00 so I could grab a thirty-five-minute Heart: Gratitude session at my meditation studio. I brought my attention to my breath. I brought my attention to my breath. I brought my attention to my breath. Who was the ex in the article, the girl who wanted a job at Richual? I hoped it wasn’t our intern Chloé. How fucked up would that be? Me and her and Evan were all just in the conference room together for the pitch meeting. I replayed the sight of her body, as she raised one hand in the air, the good student. Notice when your mind wants to wander from the sensation of the air passing through your nostrils, said the voice on the wireless headphones. We were all wearing wireless headphones. Evan didn’t need any of them. Evan had me. What more did he want, what did I not have enough of, how much more on-demand could I be? I brought my attention to my breath. Grateful for my legs, my lungs, my 64 bpm resting heart rate. Grateful to not have to work in indentured nail salon servitude. Grateful to be able to afford my recurring monthly subscriptions. Grateful for Evan. Grateful for Richual.
“How was it?” the mindfulness attendant asked when we returned our headphones.
“I feel so much better,” I told her. You always had to be gracious with these people, in case they recognized you. One misstep and the eyewitness testimony would be all over social media, blunt force trauma to your influence.
I walked the six blocks to Pheel and changed into my black Adidas by Stella McCartney warp-knit yoga tights and white “Here to Create” T-shirt. I put my mat down in the sanctuary. But Tressa wasn’t there. Tressa was always there on Wednesdays. Where was Tressa?
“Excuse me?” I said to the woman wearing a headset standing near a pedestal of potted orchids. “I’m looking for Tressa’s class.”
“I’m her sub Jen,” she said. Jen? Jen’s frizzy ponytail and faded athletic wear made her look like a Zumba instructor at Crunch. No way was she certified in the Pheel methodology.
“Jen, did something happen to Tressa? I know she’s had surgery before?” I realized that in all the years I’d known Tressa, I’d never asked for her number. We’d never gotten chai. I felt so close to her and what did she know about me? My life?
“She had tickets to Hamilton,” Jen said.
I retrieved my phone from my locker and set it near my mat. “I might have an emergency and have to leave,” I told Jen as she dimmed the lights. Many of the regulars hadn’t shown up. Maybe they checked the website and saw the sub. I hadn’t checked the website. I had trusted Tressa would be here.