There’s not a lot about this month that’s been good. One could argue that there hasn’t been a lot about this year that’s been good. But for a lot of us, the current news cycle has brought to the surface incidents from our past, buried feelings, and outrage. In many respects, that has been the case for about three years now.
To many of us, it is outrageous that men who commit violent acts against women should not only be able to get away with it, but they are able to achieve positions of power, and essentially be untouchable.
Every time a woman has the audacity to talk about harm done to her by a prominent, or well-regarded man, the same scenario plays out.
What was she doing there? Why can’t she remember this certain detail about the event? Why did she wait this long to talk about it? What did she expect?
And then, there is the discussion about what happened. They were at a party. Things like that always happen at parties. It’s just boys being boys. That’s happened to everyone I know. He was captain of the whatever team, he wouldn’t have done that. He could have had any girl he wanted just by asking, he wouldn’t have had any reason to attack a girl. It’s her fault for having poor judgment. There aren’t any witnesses. And now, it wasn’t on his calendar.
There are even plenty of women who don’t believe a sexual assault is a sexual assault unless a woman has been raped.
Those of us who have found ourselves to be the victim, watch as the scenario plays out. We watch the debates on news networks about whether someone coming forward after this much time is telling the truth. We watch as snide and uninformed comments are made about the woman on social media. We watch as attorneys and other powerful men ask these questions and make these comments as well.
Over the course of the past week, we have gotten to see all of it happen, all over again. And we all know it is likely to end the way it almost always does. The woman will have bared her soul, to do the right thing, about an incident she wishes she could forget. She will be dragged through the gutter. She will be maligned, and accused of lying, or even being paid to come forward. She will be called a gold digger, or a fame seeker. In this case, her family will have had to relocate to escape death threats, and even to be separated at times for their own safety.
And those of us who have felt the pain, fear, and emotional scars being opened, will be reminded of the one thing we always know. What happened to us doesn’t matter to anyone but ourselves, and the people closest to us who love us. We will be held responsible for our own trauma. We will be ridiculed. We will be doubted.
The men who harmed us will be comforted for the “pain” we have brought upon them, their careers, and their families. Those in the position to preside over justice will want to make sure that they come through the situation unscathed, because their future is bright, and they were football players or swimmers.
It’s not unlikely that we will be blamed for ruining our attacker or abuser’s life. In most cases, it will be a matter of “he said, she said.” And even if the report is made when physical evidence is available, we will be asked over and over if we could be mistaken and the incident was consensual.
And while this and similar scenarios play out, we will probably attend get togethers with friends or family, and hear someone joke “It was so long ago. I hope nobody decides to come after me for some of the stuff I pulled when I was that age.”
Whenever I hear that, I always think, “Well, if you committed a crime against someone, wouldn’t it only be fair for your victim to come forth and receive justice?”
But until it happens to you, it’s all just a story you hear about, or see on television if the guy is famous or powerful. It’s all just a matter of deciding who is more credible, and for whatever reason, people almost always assume it’s the guy, because they liked him in that one television show, or because he is pro-life and a Christian.
I almost purposely didn’t watch the Ford/Kavanaugh hearing. I had been gone most of the morning. I really only caught Senator Lindsey Graham spewing his anger about the timing of the accusation. To be honest, it looked to me like he wasn’t angry because the accusation was made, but because it sounded like she was telling the truth, and that might derail the nomination.
As per usual, he wasn’t angry that Brett Kavanaugh May have tried to rape a woman. He was angry that this nominee may have made a terrible drunken choice, and that the choice was the reason his nomination was in jeopardy..
I had to leave again just before Brett Kavanaugh had a turn at telling his side of the story. I only ended up seeing still photos and clips. But I had seen all of his facial expressions before. I had seen them in my family’s kitchen when I was 20, and I had finally gotten a chance to tell my mom that my stepfather had been sexually abusing me for years. I saw these expressions on his face as he yelled, screamed and ranted at me that I was ungrateful, that he hoped I didn’t still expect him to help me go to school. He told me he hoped I was happy. I didn’t expect anything from him. All I wanted was to never have to see him again, and to put his existence in my life behind me.
I could see that Brett Kavanaugh’s blood was boiling with rage in just the same way. Something he felt he was entitled to—something he felt he deserved, was at risk, and he clearly wanted us all to know how angry he was.
I didn’t watch any of it. I wasn’t afraid I would have flashbacks because of the testimony. I am fortunate in that I am only very occasionally triggered. I just didn’t want to feel more anger and rage than I was already feeling, because I know how these things usually play out, and I knew the people who didn’t want this truth to be told, were like snarling dogs over a cornered rabbit.
Around the time of the Women’s March nearly two years ago, a lot of people were asking what rights we were marching for. They asked what issues could have made us such angry and “nasty” women.
Undoubtedly, we each had our own reasons. One of the rights I marched for, and will no doubt march for again is just to be. I want the right to walk down a block. I want to be able to have a drink in a bar, or go to a party. I want to do these things without being certain that if something happens to me by someone else’s hands, I won’t somehow be blamed for it. I march, because I belong to a very special group. I belong to a group of people who have been harmed, and whose lives didn’t matter. It’s natural to march alongside blacks, immigrants, and non-Christians, because I know a little bit about how it feels to be held accountable for things that I haven’t done. I know what it’s like to simply not be as valuable as the person who harmed me.
For many of us who belong to this very special group, watching someone else suffer the same fate that we have reminds us that there isn’t justice for all. And so, among the many reasons we stand up, speak out, march, or protest, we are often trying to get the justice for others that we will never get for ourselves. We want the lives of those who are wronged by the powerful to matter. And we want them to be held accountable for their actions.
We aren’t looking for sympathy. We aren’t trying to get paid. We aren’t seeking revenge. We aren’t even necessarily trying to get our opponents to change their politics—unless their politics dictate that they must hold onto power at all costs, even if they are wrong, and someone has truly been harmed.
We may be seeking things we can never get—the person we were before this horrible thing happened to us; the freedom and sense of security for ourselves and for others, that old white men, and women outside of our group take for granted.
We know that we may never get there. But we have also learned that no one else will do it for us, and we will not stand idly by while someone else suffers through the same things we have.
We will always do for others what no one did for us.
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