Oprah Winfrey earned multiple standing ovations at tonight’s Golden Globes as she accepted the Cecil B. DeMille Award with a moving speech referencing civil rights and the #MeToo movement, declaring that the reign of abusive men was coming to an end: “Their time is up!”

The OWN founder, former talk show host, actress, film and TV producer and humanitarian became the first black woman to be given the award, which was presented in Beverly Hills, California. She spoke about the feelings she had as a young girl watching Sidney Poitier win the best-actor Oscar in 1964 and likened the pride she felt watching Poitier, the first black man to win that trophy, to the impact she hoped she could have on young women today.

“His tie was white and of course his skin was black and I had never seen a black man being celebrated like that,” Winfrey said.

As her longtime partner Stedman Graham watched from the audience, she told the story of a black woman from Alabama named Recy Taylor, who died at the age of 97 on Dec. 28, 2017, and her fight for justice after her rape by six white men in 1944.

She expressed gratitude for Taylor and all the women who were silenced when they spoke out about powerful men, the women who worked in factories, farms, as domestic workers and in academia, whose names will never be known.

“For too long, women have not been heard or believed if they dared to speak their truth to the power of those men,” Winfrey said.

“But their time is up! Their time is up! Their time is up!” she shouted to a standing ovation. The phrase also referenced the “Time’s Up” initiative led by women in Hollywood and others to combat sexual misconduct; that was at the center of the message actresses sent by wearing mainly black at the Globes on Sunday night.

Winfrey said while there was no justice for Taylor, whose attackers were never prosecuted, her truth lived on in the work of civil rights icon Rosa Parks, an ACLU investigator on Taylor’s case.

“It was somewhere in Rosa Parks’ heart almost 11 years later when she made the decision to stay seated on that bus in Montgomery,” Winfrey said. “And it’s here with every woman who chooses to say, ‘Me too’ and every man, every man who chooses to listen.”

Winfrey, who got her start in television journalism, also thanked the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, which gives out the Golden Globes.

“We all know that the press is under siege these days, but we also know that it is the insatiable dedication to uncovering the absolute truth that keeps us from turning a blind eye to corruption and to injustice, to tyrants and victims and secrets and lies,” Winfrey said.

She ended on a hopeful note saying “a new day was on the horizon” because of people, some of whom were in the Golden Globes audience, who will “take us to the time when nobody ever has to say ‘me too’ again.”

On Twitter the celebrity reaction was swift and in full support:

“Oprah cometh,” tweeted actress Amber Tamblyn, while musician Pharrell Williams called her the greatest of all time.

“Let me tell you this room is still vibrating like electricity from that speech,” Ava DuVernay tweeted.

Text of Oprah’s acceptance speech

Hi. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you all. OK. OK. Thank you, Reese. In 1964, I was a little girl sitting on the linoleum floor of my mother’s house in Milwaukee watching Anne Bancroft present the Oscar for Best Actor at the 36th Academy Awards. She opened the envelope, and said five words that literally made history: “The winner is Sidney Poitier.” Up to the stage came the most elegant man I had ever seen. I remember his tie was white and, of course, his skin was black. And I’d never seen a black man being celebrated like that. And I have tried many, many, many times to explain what a moment like that means to a little girl, a kid watching from the cheap seats as my mom came through the door, bone tired from cleaning other people’s houses. But all I can do is quote and say that the explanation in Sidney’s performance in “Lilies of the Field,” ”Amen, amen. Amen, amen.”

In 1982, Sidney received the Cecil B. DeMille Award right here at the Golden Globes, and it is not lost on me that at this moment, there are some little girls watching as I become the first black woman to be given this same award.

It is an honor — it is an honor and it is a privilege to share the evening with all of them and also with the incredible men and women who inspire me, who challenge me, who sustain me, and made my journey to this stage possible. Dennis Swanson, who took a chance on me for “AM Chicago.” Quincy Jones, who saw me on that show and said to Steven Spielberg, “Yes, she is Sofia in ‘The Color Purple.’” Gayle, who has been the definition of what a friend is. And Stedman, who has been my rock. Just a few to name.

I’d like to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press Association because we all know that the press is under siege these days, but we also know that it is the insatiable dedication to uncovering the absolute truth that keeps us from turning a blind eye to corruption and to injustice — to tyrants and victims and secrets and lies. I want to say that I value the press more than ever before as we try to navigate these complicated times, which brings me to this: What I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the most powerful tool we all have. And I’m especially proud and inspired by all the women who have felt strong enough and empowered enough to speak up and share their personal stories. Each of us in this room are celebrated because of the stories that we tell. And this year we became the story. But it’s not just a story affecting the entertainment industry. It’s one that transcends any culture, geography, race, religion, politics, or workplace. So I want tonight to express gratitude to all the women who have endured years of abuse and assault because they, like my mother, had children to feed and bills to pay and dreams to pursue.

They’re the women whose names we’ll never know. They are domestic workers and farm workers. They are working in factories, and they work in restaurants, and they’re in academia and engineering and medicine and science. They’re part of the word of tech and politics and business. They are athletes in the Olympics, and they are soldiers in the military. And there’s someone else: Recy Taylor, a name I know and I think you should know too. In 1944, Recy Taylor was a young wife and a mother. She was just walking home from the church service she’d attended in Abbeville, Alabama, when she was abducted by six armed white men, raped, and left blindfolded by the side of the road coming home from church. They threatened to kill her if she ever told anyone, but her story was reported to the NAACP, where a young worker by the name of Rosa Parks became the lead investigator on her case. And together they sought justice. But justice wasn’t an option in the era of Jim Crow. The men who tried to destroy her were never persecuted. Recy Taylor died 10 days ago, just shy of her 98th birthday. She lived as we all have lived, too many years in a culture broken by brutally powerful men. For too long, women have not been heard or believed if they dared to speak their truth to the power of those men, but their time is up.

Their time is up. Their time is up. And I just hope — I just hope that Recy Taylor died knowing that her truth, like the truth of so many other women who were tormented in those years and even now tormented, goes marching on. It was somewhere in Rosa Parks’ heart almost 11 years later when she made the decision to stay seated on that bus in Montgomery. And it’s here with every woman who chooses to say, “Me too” and every man, every man who chooses to listen. In my career what I’ve always tried my best to do, whether on television or through film, is to say something about how men and women really behave, to say how we experience shame, how we love and how we rage, how we fail, how we retreat, persevere, and how we overcome. I’ve interviewed and portrayed people who have withstood some of the ugliest things life can throw at you, but the one quality all of them seem to share is an ability to maintain hope for a brighter morning, even during our darkest nights. So I want all the girls watching here now to know that a new day is on the horizon.

And when that new day finally dawns, it will be because of a lot of magnificent women, many of whom are right here in this room tonight, and some pretty phenomenal men fighting hard to make sure that they become the leaders who take us to the time when nobody ever has to say, “Me too” again. Thank you.