I am Jane Doe.

I am Jane Doe.

I'm still watching the conversation around the Cornell case, and most of what I'm seeing is people standing up for Jane Doe.

Women sharing their own stories. Strangers defending her privacy.

And then, because it's the internet:

Not all men.

Okay. Not all men.

But enough.

Enough that every woman I know has a story.

I have several.

I've dealt with harassment on the street, at school, university and work.

In fashion school, I used to call my mum while walking home because I'd been followed before.

Years later, I still make versions of that call.

Now it's to my boyfriend.

I made one this summer when a man wouldn't leave me alone until I did.

Women know it isn't all men.

The problem is we don't know which man.

That's part of why I am Jane Doe matters.

When Michael Tracey asked people to help identify her and said he'd publish identifying information, people did the opposite.

They said they were her.

I am Jane Doe.

Again and again.

Not because we all share her story.

Because people understood that her privacy is not internet detective homework.

And that matters, especially when the conversation starts turning to what she was wearing, whether she'd been drinking or what was in her system.

None of that makes someone responsible for what another person does to them.

So when I think about "good men," I don't think about men saying, "not all men."

I think about Chanel Miller and the two Swedish men who saw what was happening and stepped in.

That's what good men do.

See something wrong? Do something.

And that's the part I keep coming back to.

We usually talk about social media as a tool for visibility.

Reach. Discovery. Amplification.

This time, people used those same tools to protect someone.

Thousands of people getting louder so one person didn't have to.

That is community.

I am Jane Doe.