Harvey Weinstein is a symptom, but what is the deeper problem?

CNN asked a group of women and men — actors, writers and other thinkers — to explore questions raised not just by the harassment allegations against Harvey Weinstein, but by a series of recent challenges to women that have reopened discussion about sexual harassment, gender and power: What is the biggest impediment to equality for women and girls today? And what made you realize anew that it was there?

Piper Perabo: Exposing the problem is a first step

I was privileged to learn orienteering as a Girl Scout, work as an au pair in Europe, and take wilderness survival classes in college. When I became an actress, naive as it sounds, I hadn’t really hit an obstacle because of my gender. So when the “Access Hollywood” tapes came out, and I heard a presidential candidate brag about sexual assault, and with a kind of easy laughter, my knees went weak. And my heart went out to all the young girls who heard it on the news that night, and for the young women who were voting in their first presidential election.

I had a similar feeling after recent news stories recounted allegations against Harvey Weinstein. These famous incidents make the news, but they are not singular. This behavior of white male dominance is understood and cherished — that’s what I hear in the shared laughter on that “Access Hollywood” tape. These conversations expose all the work we have to do, just to admit where we’re at, so we can find our way to equality, and I see that as a sign of hope.

Piper Perabo is an actress known for her role as CIA agent Annie Walker in the TV series “Covert Affairs,” for which she was earned a Golden Globe nomination in 2010. She has appeared in numerous films, including “Looper,” “The Prestige,” “Imagine Me and You,” and her breakout role in “Coyote Ugly.” Perabo is also a voice of advocacy for the International Rescue Committee.

Poorna Jagannathan: Does violence against women not count?

As a teenager on a New Delhi bus, I would invariably feel a hand down my shirt or up my skirt. It was an everyday occurrence. That, on top of an assault at 9, just made the extraordinary event of sexual violence, into the most ordinary thing. I did what most of us do: kept silent.

But even at 9, it was a calculated choice. I chose to stay silent because it was better than telling parents and teachers and they not doing/unable to do anything about it. By staying silent, I betrayed just myself. Speaking out would have led to my betrayal by the people I loved the most.

Then, on December 16, 2012, Jyoti Singh Pandey, a 23-year-old medical student, boarded a bus in New Delhi. She was gang-raped, beaten and tortured by six men. Though she lived only for a few days, she found the strength to testify against her attackers, to demand justice for herself. The press called her “Nibhaya” — fearless one.

Her story inspired me and so many women across India and the world to break our silences. We’d had enough. The dam had simply burst. We began to see the violence as extraordinary again.

Silence is a hard thing to understand. I thought it protected me, but it protected my perpetrators. I thought it would end the violence, but it was actually what was perpetuating it. I thought the silence was all mine, but it was what made me deeply complicit in the culture of violence.

My silence, layered on top of the silences of millions of other women, created a system where there was no accountability. When we broke it, we were sure the system would collapse, that our breaking of the silence would end the cycle of violence.

But as more women dare to break their silences, many times at enormous costs to themselves, we are faced with an entirely new reality. There is no real fallout, no real consequences.

Although Kate Winslet has denounced Harvey Weinstein, I’ll never forget that line from an interview she gave: “When Roman Polanski invites you to join him in any project, you really don’t say no.” Because I want her, I need her and everyone else to scream “No.” Because so many of us couldn’t — we were too young, too scared, too frozen. Does violence against women not count? (Polanski is the film director who fled the United States to avoid prison for raping a 13-year-old girl in 1977.)

Why would a university overlook a sexual harassment charge and begin to promote someone to dean? Why would it be up to the discretion of an officer to submit a rape kit when in reality, it should be mandatory? Does violence against women not count?

That apology letter that Harvey Weinstein wrote wasn’t the sound of a man oblivious to the gravity of the accusations of sexual harassment and assault that have been made against him. It’s the sound of a man who has read so many scripts, he knows the ending better than anyone else. Expect him to lie low for a while, then emerge under a new company with a new name — maybe with a phoenix-rising logo — and go back to business as usual.

The system will support his slow integration, while it will continue to betray those who have the courage to speak out.

Poorna Jagannathan is an actress and producer best known for her portrayal of Safar Khan in the Emmy-nominated show “The Night Of.” In response to the 2012 gang rape and death of Jyoti Singh Pandey, she initiated and produced the play “Nirbhaya,” written and directed by Yael Farber.