Kavanaugh hearing illustrates class divide
What if Blasey Ford hadn’t come from a privileged, educated background?
At the end of the gruelling U.S. Senate judiciary committee hearing on Thursday into sexual assault allegations against Judge Brett Kavanaugh, many commentators focused on how a male-female divide had emerged over Donald Trump’s nominee to the U.S. Supreme Court, despite the influence of the #MeToo movement.
When it came down to whether Kavanaugh’s nomination should be confirmed, the pundits said it appeared — judging by social media comments that were flooding in — that women were lining up behind Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, who gave emotional but unwavering testimony about a sexual assault she alleged was perpetrated by Kavanaugh in 1982. Men, on the other hand, were largely backing Kavanaugh, who angrily denied the allegations before the senators.
During the course of the almost ninehour undertaking — which, I admit, I watched from start to finish — another divide became clear: class.
I found Ford to be highly articulate, intelligent and unassuming. I also found her to be highly believable.
I learned, after a bit of research, that Holton-Arms School in Bethesda, Md. — a college prep school that Ford attended at the time — was for the well heeled (tuition today starts at $42,975 a year).
But her testimony that as a teen, she hung out at the Columbia Country Club in Chevy Chase, Md. (with an $80,000 initiation fee today), made it clear this is someone who grew up in a privileged world that allowed her to benefit from the best education money could buy and bestowed on her all kinds of advantages.
None of this, of course, plays any role in the alleged assault by Kavanaugh, but it made me wonder: What if Ford wasn’t from a wealthy family, but, at the time of the alleged incident, came from the wrong side of the tracks?
Imagine if her family was poor and she attended an inferior public school a world away from Holton-Arms, and her playground wasn’t the local country club, but the concrete sidewalks and alleyways of an inner-city neighbourhood.
Imagine if she never went to college, or never even finished high school, but came across Kavanaugh and his friends and — despite their socio-economic differences — attended the gathering in question.
Imagine she wasn’t called “Dr.” and instead worked in a variety of low-paying jobs, or was on social assistance when she appeared before the committee, dressed not in business attire but in something from a discount store.
Imagine instead of having a supportive husband and family, she was a single mom who lost her kids to the system because she was unable to provide for them.
Imagine that instead of having degrees in psychology and being able to articulate her experience and how it affected her life, her lack of education and standing caused her to stumble through her testimony, appearing defensive and, as a result, not believable — even a liar, perhaps accused of looking to gain financially.
The senators heard from one of their own in Ford, someone who came up through the best schools and moved in similar circles.
After her powerful testimony, even some Republican senators acknowledged she had created some doubt about Kavanaugh.
But would any doubt have been cast if she had been poor, with all the baggage that entails? Would there have even been a hearing, or would her initial letter to her congressional representative been filed away, and would her message to the Washington Post been taken seriously?
Just about everyone — but, it could be argued, especially conservatives and those with wealth — judges the poor to varying degrees, seeing them as somehow blameworthy for their predicament: that they haven’t worked hard enough, they didn’t overcome their demons, they’re weak and lazy, they lack faith. They’re not just economically impoverished; they’re morally impoverished. As we go about our comfortable lives, the poor have become largely invisible except to the few dedicated souls who work to improve their lot in life.
Why does any of this matter in the Kavanaugh case? Because unlike the gains that have been made for women, visible minorities and members of the LGBTQ community — gains that mean they can no longer be ignored by decision-makers — the uncomfortable truth is that the same cannot be said for the poor.
As the wealth gap continues to widen in the U.S. and elsewhere, the deck continues to be stacked against the poor — on the streets and especially in the halls of power.