If I were given a dollar each time a woman was accused of advancing her career through inappropriate means, I would be competing with Jeff Bezos for the top spot on the Fortune 500 list.

I must admit, I do enjoy a bit of scandalous gossip like everyone else. However, after experiencing the harmful consequences of false rumors firsthand, I can attest to how damaging it can be to both your mental well-being and professional life.

This week, as I watched the Mary Kate Cornett ‘scandal’ snowball into something much larger than idle gossip, I was reminded of my own experience.

For those who may not be aware, Mary Kate, an 18-year-old student at the University of Mississippi (commonly known as Ole Miss), is currently at the center of an ongoing internet controversy. She has been falsely accused of having a romantic relationship with her boyfriend Evan’s father.

The story spread like wildfire thanks to social media and bro podcasters fanning the flames. The Cornett family has called the whole thing a ‘malicious, organised attack’ and insist there is no truth to it. Mary Kate’s boyfriend has also stated the rumour is completely false.

But it gets even messier because trolls didn’t just stop at gossip. They went as far as publishing her phone number and home address, sparking serious safety concerns, with even the FBI now involved. Now, Mary Kate has launched a GoFundMe to help ‘establish a foundation focused on helping innocent victims of similar defamatory cyber attacks,’ adding: ‘Zero money raised here will be used for personal purposes.’

As I watched it all unfold, I couldn’t help but commend Mary Kate’s bravery for taking a stand. I’ve seen so many women curl up into a ball, block their ears and pray for similar false rumours to go away. But having been through it myself, I know one thing for certain: once you’re tarred with the ‘affair’ brush, the stain doesn’t just fade.

A few years ago, I worked with a man who thought he was invincible… until he got caught in a scandal.

This week, as I watched the Mary Kate Cornett ‘scandal’ snowball into something much larger than idle gossip, I was reminded of my own experience, writes Mail+ columnist Jana Hocking

The 18-year-old student at Ole Miss (that’s University of Mississippi for non-Americans) found herself at the centre of false claims she had an affair with her boyfriend Evan’s father

He very publicly made a fool of himself and, for a brief period of time, found himself on newspaper front pages for all the wrong reasons.

Now, if you’ve ever worked with a man high on power, you’ll know they don’t take their falls from grace lightly. Rather than directing his anger at his colleagues in the media who were calling him out, he decided to take it out on me, his lowly female employee, who he assumed wouldn’t fight back.

During an ad break of the show we were working on, he strutted out of the studio, planted himself in front of my desk, and – right in front of my fellow producers – said smugly, ‘You didn’t think to tell old mate not to have a go at me on his radio station?’

I looked at him, confused. Of course, I had no say over what other people put to air on their own shows. And given that my radio host was front-page news at the time, obviously, everyone would be talking about him – rightfully so.

I said, ‘No, obviously not.’

That’s when he rolled his eyes and sneered, ‘Oh come on, Jana. We all know you’re f**king him.’

Then, before I even had a chance to respond – jaw on the floor – he turned and walked straight back into the studio.

Everyone was staring at me.

I’ve seen so many women curl up into a ball, block their ears and pray for similar false rumours to go away. But having been through it myself, I know one thing for certain: once you’re tarred with the ‘affair’ brush, the stain doesn’t just fade, writes Jana

Side note: The man in question was a friend and mentor. There had never been anything remotely romantic between us. He was – and still is – a happily married man.

Tears stung my eyes, but I knew I had to act fast. I had just been slut-shamed for something I hadn’t done. I got up, walked to another room, and, with shaking hands, called my boss to tell them what had just happened.

I was acutely aware that rumours like this destroy careers – and in one sentence, mine had been put on the chopping block.

I tearfully explained what had happened and was told to ‘address it with him directly’.

Yep. I was told to handle this deeply unprofessional attack… with my attacker. Looking back, there were a lot of men higher up who were afraid of him.

Even now, that blows my mind.

But if you’ve been reading my column for a while, you’ll know I don’t take kindly to bullies. I grew up with one, and the only thing it taught me was that the only way to fight a bully is to match their energy.

No tears. These men don’t respond to tears – they assume they’ve won. You have to match them with fire.

When I walked back into the airlock, he took one look at my face and knew he was in big trouble.

Minutes later, he sent me a text: ‘Janaaaaaa. Sorry if I made you sad – angry – pissed. I was only joking, but as usual, went too far. Sorry.’

Did he come out and apologise publicly, in front of the team he had just humiliated me in front of? No. Like a coward, he sent a text claiming it was all a ‘joke’.

A decade of hard work almost ruined – because a man, angry at someone else, needed an easy target.

I demanded a public apology. The next day, he called a meeting, where he mumbled some half-baked ‘we’ve all got to do better’ nonsense.

Excuse me? We?!

I was done. I moved departments and a month later he was fired for another similar incident. That was that.

But it wasn’t.

You see, the industry never forgets. A few months later, at an industry awards night, I found myself dealing with another attack. This time, from a drunk woman who, after slurring at me for not remembering her name, loudly called me a ‘slut who was sleeping with’ the same married man. Yes, just as I had presumed, the rumour had not been shut down at all; instead it had spread like wildfire though my industry.

She had the gall to say it in front of my former boss. In front of my peers. In front of colleagues I respected.

And just like that, the rumour mill churned again. All because of the ramblings of a woman who couldn’t even stand straight.

Thankfully my old boss shut it down immediately, but I was exhausted. This was the second time my reputation had been put on the line because someone else needed a scapegoat.

The next morning, I reported the incident. My boss had already heard about it, naturally. I was told to ‘laugh it off and forget about it’.

But I was done forgetting. I took it further, and eventually, I received a half-hearted email apology from the drunk that went like this:

‘Hi Jana, I hope you’re well and having a good week. I just wanted to drop a quick note to apologise for the conversation we had at the [awards night]. It certainly was not the right environment for anything other than a space for people to celebrate and enjoy themselves and I’m sorry this was not the case. I look forward to us moving forward and having a positive and respectful working relationship. Thank you.’

For the record, there was no conversation. Just her spitting venom at me for forgetting her name.

A month later, she resigned from the company.

Mary Kate Cornett’s family say she is suffering ‘horribly’ because of the coordinated viral campaign and have now brought in an attorney

So what was the lesson in all this? Fight back. Since then, I’ve built a career free from ‘sleeping her way to the top’ rumours – but only because I shut them down at the source.

Why is a man’s go-to weapon always slut-shaming? And why do women – who should know better – join in? Can’t they just take their anger out on a punching bag like a sane person?

So, to Mary Kate, I say this: Bravo. Keep fighting. I’ll be backing you all the way, because trust me, I know just how quickly a reputation can be smashed to smithereens.

Here’s to more women standing up for themselves, even when we really shouldn’t have to. And men: get a new line. Your trick is getting old. Really old.