Cheyenne Hunt figured things would get ugly.
After all, disrupting the status quo, dismantling powerful structures, that can be quite messy. But Hunt says she’s geared up for a fight.
A fight that began nearly four months ago, when a close friend reached out to Hunt, asking for help, help exposing allegations of sexual abuse and misconduct by Eric Swalwell, then the leading Democratic candidate for California governor.
Hunt said yes, and 11 days later, Swalwell had resigned from Congress and left the gubernatorial contest.
Hunt said yes again shortly after, when she became connected with women who said they had suffered physical and sexual abuse while in relationships with Graham Platner, who was the Democratic nominee for U.S. Senate in Maine.
Like Swalwell, Platner quickly lost support from fellow Democratic supporters and resources after the allegations came to light. Platner — as has Swalwell — has denied the allegations of abuse and misconduct.
By mid-July, Platner had exited the Senate race.
But Hunt, a Democratic strategist and attorney who resides in Orange County, kept saying yes to the multitude of survivors of sexual abuse, domestic violence and various other forms of misconduct who flooded her social media.
Yes, she’ll help them get in touch with a lawyer. Yes, she’ll put them in contact with a trustworthy, reputable journalist. Yes, she’ll connect them with support services and counselors and other resources.
And yes, she’ll simply listen. Because sometimes, at that moment, that’s all a survivor needs.
Hunt, at 29 years old, has become this force for survivors, leading what she’s called “Me Too part 2.”
That doesn’t mean the original Me Too movement — founded some 20 years ago by Tarana Burke to empower survivors — has failed. Rather, Hunt views this new movement as “walking hand-in-hand with those leaders” and credits Burke with helping their work.
Of the current moment, Hunt calls it a reckoning of sorts, one that confronts misogyny and gender bias, abuse and the subjugation of women.
And it’s one that utilizes a younger generation on a new battleground, so to speak, through podcasts and Instagram and TikTok.
“The truth is, a large part of our mission is no predators in power,” Hunt said in a recent interview.
“In my mind, as a strategist who is thinking about where we go from here in this movement, it’s clear to me that these survivors are the most powerful vectors of change, and they have just these incredibly powerful stories and testimonies that move people,” said Hunt, a longtime Orange County resident who ran for California’s 45th Congressional District in Orange and Los Angeles counties in 2024, but lost in the primary.
But having help telling those stories — particularly in a way that is truthful and sensitive — is crucial, multiple survivors who connected with Hunt in recent weeks said in interviews.
‘No pressure’
In early June, the New York Times published an account of multiple women who had dated Platner, the former U.S. Senate candidate in Maine, who described what the headline called “unsettling behavior.”
Two of the women in the piece, Lyndsey Fifield and Jenny Racicot, have each said they felt the article didn’t accurately reflect their comments, left out details or didn’t fully attempt to corroborate their stories. Racicot said she felt misled about how her involvement in the piece would be shown.
Fifield said she felt very alone in the aftermath of the Times piece. Racicot said she felt exploited.
But soon after, both became connected to Hunt.
Racicot said Hunt immediately told her, “Here are all your options.”
“And when she said ‘no pressure,’ it truly was no pressure,” Racicot recalled. “I could have kept quiet this entire time and not said anything, and she would have been fine with it because that is what I chose.”
Both women ultimately shared their experiences with Platner with other outlets. In Politico and CNN, Racicot said Platner raped her in 2021 when he came home drunk; Fifield told CNN Platner would grab her, leaving bruises, and once locked her in a bedroom during an argument to prevent her from leaving.
(Platner had denied both women’s allegations before he dropped out of the race.)
It meant a lot, Fifield said, to be able to share her experiences again, in a way that felt more authentic — something that came because of Hunt’s help.
“Even apart from the media part of this, she offered to connect us to legal services just to understand the whole landscape,” Fifield said. “I didn’t know anything. I thought I understood the media — I worked in communications for my whole career — but clearly I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”
For Racicot, it was the support that Hunt offered.
Racicot was going through a number of life transitions at the time the allegations were coming to light. Many of her friends were supporting Platner in his quest to unseat Republican Sen. Susan Collins, even though some knew at least parts of what had happened.
“She knew that I didn’t have the actual social support. She was a friend through this,” Racicot said.
“I sent quite a few emotional voice chats. But she’s a rock. She remains strong and informative and understanding, and that is the piece that I never would have felt comfortable coming forward without,” Racicot added. “I don’t think I ever would have done (tell her full story on the record) without her.”
“She was honest from day one, and I never had to question her motives, because there were no motives. Her only job was to support us and to help us.”
What’s next for this reckoning?
It started with Annika Albrecht, a friend who told Hunt she had been sexually harassed by Swalwell. Could Hunt use her platform — the 29-year-old had amassed quite a large following on social media — and share her story about the man leading the race for California governor?
Hunt posted a video March 31, showing a text message that read in part: “It’s well known that he uses his power to sleep around with younger staffers and interns on the Hill but he uses lawyers to keep them all quiet.”
“While many folks may be afraid of speaking out, it is crucial that we bring these allegations to light and grapple with them,” Hunt said then.
The floodgates opened.
More women came forward — some publicly, some contacting Hunt wishing to remain anonymous — with various misconduct allegations, from sexual assault to unwanted explicit messages.
By April 12, Swalwell had dropped out of the gubernatorial race. One day later, he would resign from Congress.
For Hunt, it hasn’t stopped.
In May, Hunt officially started Reckoning Action, an organization that aims to confront misogyny and gender bias.
“We organize, advocate, and fight across every arena where that subjugation operates: in Congress, in statehouses, in boardrooms, in the media and in the narratives that shape what Americans believe women deserve,” the group describes itself. “We are the organized opposition — and we’re just getting started.”
Reckoning Action’s board includes Jane Stoever, a UC Irvine School of Law professor who directs the school’s Domestic Violence Clinic, which represents abuse survivors in civil, criminal, immigration and policy interventions.
Stoever said Hunt’s commitment to abuse survivors was immediately apparent when Hunt became a certified law intern in the UC Irvine School of Law Domestic Violence Clinic.
“As I supervised the first restraining order evidentiary hearing she litigated, I witnessed her compassion, tenacity and skill that resulted in a protective court order for her client and client’s baby,” Stoever said.
“Reckoning Action is a testament to what is possible when a dedicated advocate decides that the work doesn’t stop at the courthouse door and that greater societal change is overdue. The organization Cheyenne has founded reflects exactly who I’ve always known her to be: someone who refuses to accept the silence, blame and shame that too often shields abusive individuals and isolates those they harm,” Stoever said. “By providing legal and safety support for survivors as they prepare to speak out, Cheyenne is transforming lives, inspiring countless survivors and changing the cultural conditions that allow abuse to persist.”
Fifield, a work-from-home mom in Virginia who identifies as “more conservative” but is not a registered Republican, said a “Me Too, 2.0” is incredibly important, particularly in politics.
“We absolutely need another go at this Me Too movement,” Fifield said. “The D.C. culture, in general, is very toxic.”
“As a mom of two daughters, if that culture does not get radically changed in my lifetime, I will never feel comfortable sending my daughters to work in a Hill office,” said Fifield, a digital strategist.
For Michael Trujillo, a Democratic strategist in Los Angeles, it’s the infrastructure Hunt is building that he believes will be beneficial long-term. It’s something he hasn’t witnessed before in his time in politics.
“It really seems like a one-stop shop place for them to take care of all the things that happen,” Trujillo said. “It’s not just the individual who is called out; it’s their staff and making sure they have a paycheck to pay rent or victims to have legal representation pro bono because they might not know what their options are or even if a crime was committed.”
“It’s incredible, and it’s amazing to watch someone in her late 20s to take on this role,” Trujillo said.
Hunt admits she is chronically online — after all, that was part of her previous role as the executive director of Gen Z for Change, a group that leverages social media and advocacy for climate or reproductive healthcare issues, to name a few.
On Instagram, Hunt has more than 223,000 followers. On TikTok, it’s about the same.
She’s seen, on social media, the rise of “tradwife” content, where younger women embrace traditional gender roles. It was, she said, the thing that kept her up at night.
“Everybody’s talking about young men and trying to find the next Joe Rogan,” Hunt said, referring to the controversial, popular podcaster. “But I was watching what was happening to young women.”
There’s the online content, but then there are also decisions made at the federal level — from the Trump administration’s funding freezes impacting organizations that provide services to domestic violence victims to shuttering a large federal project studying women’s health.
“The message is coming through loud and clear: The story we’re telling about American women and what they deserve has changed,” Hunt said.
In the aftermath of Swalwell, Hunt said she saw an opportunity to capitalize on some momentum.
“A lot of us looked at each other and realized, for many of these survivors, it was the most horrific thing that they had ever been through in their lives,” Hunt said. “But if there was the possibility to do some good and have some good come out of this, then it was worth it.”
The next project, Hunt said, is working with survivors of Jeffrey Epstein, the former financier who died by suicide while in jail.
To borrow a few metaphors: Hunt is still building the plane as she’s flying it. And she’s also not backing down from any fights.
Editor’s Note: If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, you are not alone. RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Hotline offers free, confidential, 24/7 support in English and Spanish. Contact them at 800-656-4673 or text “HOPE” to 64673.