‘ we forced the country to reckon with its culture’
i’ve been an activist for almost two decades. When Kavanaugh was nominated, my organisation and others gathered people in Washington DC to tell their stories about health care, about needing an abortion or being an immigrant. When the judiciary committee started hearings to interview him, we disrupted them. We wanted to expose the moral bankruptcy of the process.
Then Dr Blasey Ford’s story came to light, and the protesters started to share their stories of sexual assault. It was a way to accompany her in this very courageous, scary thing that she was doing by testifying against him. I had never shared my own experience of being sexually abused by a teenage boy when I was five. The Monday before the judiciary vote was planned, I joined a protest in front of Senator Flake’s office, and that was the moment I told my story. It was incredibly painful.
On the Saturday, I went to the Senate Building. I didn’t know Maria Gallagher – she was joining the protest for the first time. An organiser told her, ‘Grab two people and go to Senator Flake’s office.’ So we ended up together. We got to Flake’s office and there were reporters in front, who told us he’d just put out a statement announcing that he would vote to confirm Kavanaugh. Maria and I were despondent. When he walked out of his office, we followed him.
I had spent many days listening to women sharing every detail of their sexual assault – it was that energy that fed the
interaction. I said to him, ‘Just a few days ago, I was in front of your office telling my story because I recognise myself in Dr Blasey Ford. You have children, I have children. How can you install someone who is accused of sexual assault?’ I wanted him to feel the gravity of his responsibility. I could read in his face so much shame, and his difficulty in looking at us was very obvious – he kept trying to press the button of the elevator to close the door. Maria said: ‘Look at me. Do not look away – tell me that my story didn’t happen and it doesn’t matter. Tell me that you are still going to put men like that in power.’ When he later called for an FBI investigation, I was shocked. Politicians usually don’t go back on whatever deal they have made.
I realised that my parents were going to find out about my own assault, so I texted my father, ‘ You are going to hear something in the news about my experience of sexual violence and I want you to know I am OK.’ What had kept me from telling them this for more than 30 years was a fear he would feel responsible. He texted back, ‘I’m sorry I was not able to protect you.’ But I told him: ‘It’s not your fault and it’s not my fault, and I feel supported by you.’
It was so painful to figure out how to protect myself in the middle of the whirlwind. But I had become part of this community of courageous people who had been telling their stories. I understood that my story is not that important – what’s relevant is that we have a culture that enables sexual violence. Let’s force ourselves to stare at that mirror and ask ourselves, ‘Is this who we want to be?’
Kavanaugh was confirmed to the Supreme Court on 6 October. I only regret we didn’t pressure every senator who voted for him to the same extent. Mostly though, I feel at peace. This fight was never supposed to happen – we made it a fight, we forced the country to reckon with its culture. MTV did a poll asking Millennials what inspires them to vote – number one was the Kavanaugh hearing, number two was watching people protest. I felt like, ‘OK, here is a generation of people who are shaped by these moments. We’ve done something right.’