For a generation of young women who came of age watching congressmen grill Anita Hill, the term "sexual harassment" once packed a wallop. Today, it's almost an irrelevance, if not a joke. Katherine Kim, a 26 year old writer in San Francisco, is an editor of YO! (Youth Outlook), a monthly newspaper by and about young people published by Pacific News Service.

SAN FRANCISCO -- Sexual harassment -- that nebulous legal term -- is on the tip of everyone's tongue in the wake of the Willey testimony and the McKinney verdict. But no one knows how to define it, no one wants to report it and frankly, we're sick and tired of hearing about it. And that includes a lot of young women like myself who came of age mesmerized by the TV drama of Anita Hill.

Watching congressmen berate Anita Hill on TV in my dorm at a women's college, relatively new to feminism, my classmates and I shook our heads at her treatment but we were captivated by the historical moment, even motivated. In the end, we looked on disillusioned as Clarence Thomas got his robes and I realized that sexual harassment as a title in the Civil Rights Act was a joke and that feminism -- its main defender -- was powerless.

Today, lying somewhere between a first grader kissing a classmate on the cheek to the President of the United States allegedly groping a prospective employee in the Oval Office, sexual harassment is an everyday reality for us -- something we shrug off with a jaded nonchalance. We're left to fend for ourselves.

In the safety of a neighborhood restaurant, a co-worker in her twenties confides that she was feeling uncomfortable at work -- her office mate was a bit too "touchy-feely." Of course she wasn't going to report it to a supervisor -- it fell into that gray area. Instead, she just told the perpetrator to stop touching her -- a sensible, clean solution.

And he hasn't touched her since. No more friendly arms around the shoulder, no more jabs at the side, no more tousling of the hair. Sometimes the irritation in the voice, reinforced by the unspoken threat of a lawsuit, can stem the offensive act, as in her case.

But most young women are afraid to report sexual harassment in the workplace -- not only for fear of losing their jobs but of drawing undue attention to themselves. Kiana Davis, a 20-year-old female security guard, was sure that if she reported sexual harassment on the job she'd wind up on the top bill of the evening news.

In an Op-Ed piece in the New York times, Anita Hill writes that sexual harassment is "...a phrase that has legal meaning but in popular culture has become such a catchall that we are in danger of turning it into an irrelevance."

Well, for women of my generation, it already is an irrelevance -- something some of us have learned to our own advantage. "How do I deal with it?" asks Sayyadina Thomas, who's held down a variety of entry level jobs in her 18 years. "I utilize it." Her response echoes that of the distressed, insolvent Kathleen Willey who says she tolerated the President's unwanted advances and then sent him fawning letters in hopes of obtaining an ambassadorship.

The truth is, some of us are barely paying attention to the Scandal in the Oval Office, which is not surprising given how the media's overzealous use of the term has diluted its meaning. "I haven't been following the Willey trial (sic) very closely, but I did follow Lewinski (sic) for a bit," one friend wrote. "Honestly, do you care?"

Of course, she and I grew up learning that old school feminists like Steinem and Dworkin spoke for a different generation, fought for issues different than our own. The new school feminists like Faludi and Wolf lay on our coffee tables, and we deconstructed feminism into women of color vs. white women, dykes vs. bis, Marxists vs. capitalists. Meanwhile, the poison of Roiphe and Paglia took their toll. We descended into cattiness.

And some of us rallied to the Women's President, convinced that a right-wing conspiracy was indeed afoot ("It's women like Willey who pit feminists against each other," says Genie Chough, a 26 year old civil service worker). Others have decided their allegiance to the office of President transcended their feminist principles. ("I realize that if Willey was assaulted, it was at work and that represents all women who are harassed at the job... But what are you going to do if the dignity of the President is on the line?" asks Elizabeth Miller, a 26 year old doctoral student at UNC-Chapel Hill.

One friend, who headed numerous women's coalitions on her college campus, now squeamishly admits she doesn't want to see her mutual funds lose money in the event the President is toppled.

Under criticism from a few outspoken feminists, the National Organization of Women (NOW) has finally issued a statement on the Willey testimony, saying if her allegations are true it amounts to "sexual assault" by Clinton who would be a "sexual predator." But it's too little too late.

Where were the mothers of the movement and the hell raisers with their vociferous call to arms?

They've already lost us -- we didn't know where to go.