Arriving in Hollywood with dreams of becoming a producer, I underestimated the toxic culture that awaited me | Kate Wilson

LWhen I was young, I dreamed of making it in Hollywood and working in film. Passionate about show business, I wanted to become a big producer and see my name in the credits of the silver screen. And I did, sort of. I made the 5,500-mile trip from London to Los Angeles, attended UCLA, interned at a real-life A-list celebrity’s production company, and eventually got sponsored for a work visa. I had been plucked from obscurity and given my big break, and the timing couldn’t have been better, I thought, landing shortly after Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction had had a seismic impact on the popularity of independent arthouse films.

But my dream was short-lived, and three years later I was back in cold, wet London. I had anticipated the obligatory tea-making, the endless reading of scripts, and the grueling hours that tested the mettle of assistants for the job, but even the promise of one day rubbing shoulders with movie stars on the red carpet wasn't compelling enough to justify the toxic culture that was so much a part of the industry at the time.

I laughed when my superiors commented on my appearance or awkwardly invited me to dinner, but I wasn't prepared for the extremes of things: late-night phone calls and unsolicited gifts of red roses and lingerie from employers; industry men bragging about sleeping with sex workers and porn stars; and the top industry executive who said, as I signed a contract, “It's like getting a mail-order bride!”

When I tell these stories today, many are quick to label this relentless, unwanted sexual and romantic attention as sexual harassment. “Why didn’t you speak up?” they ask. In the late 1990s, in a town run by Harvey Weinstein and his ilk, I simply didn’t have the words to label what was happening as sexual harassment, psychological manipulation, coercion, mind control. What exactly would I have said? And to whom would I have said it?

I once tearfully confided to a woman in a position of power the worst of these experiences, an altercation that resulted in physical and sexual assault, but was told that it was a private and personal matter between you and him. Like many others who finally felt empowered to speak out after #MeToo, I didn’t dare raise my hand to complain at the time or raise my voice above a whisper. I didn’t believe I could.

And so, with no alternative, I quit. I found myself in an untenable and lonely situation, unable to work without damaging my self-esteem and dignity. Suddenly, my dreams of making it in Hollywood seemed completely out of reach.

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, my exodus was far from solitary. The women writers, producers, and directors who worked in the Los Angeles film industry in the ’90s should now be at the height of their careers, sitting in the front row of the credits, and preparing their acceptance speeches. But that’s the reality for very few women.

Just One out of five Today, the top jobs are held by a woman, and only three women have won best director at the Oscars in its 95-year history. Those of us who were pushed out of Hollywood back then, a generation whose stories were too often smothered by nondisclosure agreements handed out like confetti, are conspicuously absent.

The #MeToo movement has helped to shine a spotlight on us again; every woman who has spoken out about a confusing and often traumatic past has added her voice to a resounding collective cry from the heart.

Twenty-five years after leaving Hollywood, the future of cinema is uncertain, plunged into the deep and murky waters of direct streaming releases. Today, times are tough for everyone In Hollywood. Ironically, we now have overwhelming evidence that films that are better represented, both on and off screen, make more money at the box office and contribute to a more sustainable and profitable economy. It is clear that the film industry would have benefited from more diversity of thought over the years.

We can't change the past, but I have hope for the future of cinema if we can just open its well-guarded doors and persuade some of the women who were once so unwelcome to return.

• Kate Wilson is the co-founder of the workplace culture app Call It! and the author of Prospects

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