Slut Whore Drunk
October 15, 2018: “Slut Whore Drunk”
Slut whore drunk is something my Senator, Lindsey Graham, said to a reporter. He was angry about the way Judge Kavanaugh was treated during the confirmation hearing. I’ll come back to this. But just hold that phrase in your mind. And consider whether you can recall in your lifetime any other instance when a politician felt free to speak on the record that way about anything. Anything at all.
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Every woman I have ever known has #MeToo stories, but I never even knew harassment had a name until Anita Hill spoke out. I’d never considered that the world could be otherwise
When I was at Sewanee, the notorious men’s dorm where my boyfriend lived, Cannon Hall, wasn’t a great place for a girl to be. I took a perverse pride in being able to go there. The guys liked my boyfriend and were good-natured toward me. Besides, I’d always wanted to be a boy. I knew from my family, my church, my school and my community that being a boy was better than being a girl. There was more latitude for behavior, more freedom to explore, more opportunities. So I didn’t rock any boats.
On fine days, some Cannon boys liked to sit on the front stoop and catcall any unlucky girl who walked past. The dorm sat back from South Carolina Avenue, a great distance from any other building, with nothing across the street. Picture it at the 50-yard line of a troughed football field. There was a long, sloping yard, so the front stoop easily gave a 150-degree vista. When you spotted someone coming down the street, you knew they’d be in view for a solid five minutes. Most girls, having grown up as I did in cultured, Southern families, had practice in surviving this kind of ordeal. Ignore it as long as possible, then glance over, give a little smile and maybe a quick wave, maybe an eye-roll if you were feeling brave, then steel your spine, try not to cry or hyperventilate, and command yourself not to walk faster than normal. Par for the course of a female’s life.
I’d just arrived one afternoon and was talking to those boys on the front stoop when an acquaintance of mine started down the hill. She was a strong person, not going out of her way to be different, just not willing to conform to anyone’s idea of what privileged Southern ladies were supposed to be. Which made her an especially attractive target. I don’t remember what the boys said, but it was carefully calibrated to make her very uncomfortable. I really wish I could remember what she said back.
Because she did talk back.
It was something along the lines of, “Don’t talk to me that way.” I was shocked. I think she threatened to report them. With good reason, the boys felt absolutely no threat whatsoever, and doubled-down with some wolf-whistles and lesbian comments. I was horrified. For this girl taking that risk. And for being with these mean boys. It never occurred to me to come to her defense or challenge their game or just leave or talk about it later with my boyfriend. But I remember it as the only time I ever saw any girl—or any woman—speak out and say: you may not treat me that way. It remains one of the bravest things I have ever witnessed. And I’m ashamed to say I never told her.
Until yesterday.
I emailed her. She was incredibly gracious. And she said this.
More traumatic than the moment, and the blood pounding in my ears, and the reminder that I couldn’t walk freely around the beautiful campus…more traumatic by far than that, was the response I received when I did seek help from the administration.
The Dean was awkward and embarrassed, and he called her a couple of days later to report that: he had talked to the boys at Cannon, but none of them recalled the incident, and it was impossible to say who may or may not have been there, so, oh well, what could he do? He said, she said.
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In response to my blog preview, one family member vehemently disagreed with my embarrassment of Lindsey Graham’s hostile behavior during the Senate hearing with Dr. Ford. She felt Judge Kavanaugh was being slandered with unsupported accusations and was proud that Graham was defending him. I love her for responding and telling me her truth. I love that we still love each other.
An old friend I haven’t talked with in years took me to task for the ‘false equivalence’ of how each party has hijacked and politicized Supreme Court confirmations. I think he’s right on this, actually. Here’s an interesting opinion piece: ‘Judicial payback’ is nothing new claiming that Greenville, SC native, Judge Clement Haynsworth, was the first victim in 1969.
One could also point to 2016, when Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said: "One of my proudest moments was when I told Obama, 'You will not fill this Supreme Court vacancy,'” or in 2017, when McConnell said, "Apparently there's yet a new standard now, which is not to confirm a Supreme Court nominee at all. I think that's something the American people simply will not tolerate." Yeah.
Another friend unsubscribed. I was getting too political. After thinking about it a lot, and losing sleep, I wrote her back thanking her for having given a reason, instead of just leaving, and we had a good, thoughtful exchange. She isn’t reading or watching the news or having political conversations with friends these days. It’s just too painful. Avoiding it is the way that she “can still feel kindness and love in her heart”. I understand this. And it pains me.
““Being taught to avoid talking about politics and religion has led to a lack of understanding of politics and religion. What we should have been taught was how to have a civil conversation about a difficult topic.””
I feel that this is what God is calling me to attempt in my blog--to be honest and theologically reflective about the issues that are confronting and challenging us. To try to model civil discourse with people who have genuine differences of opinion. This is not my comfort zone. It is not at all what I would wish my call to be. But if I claim to be a disciple, then it doesn’t really matter what I want. A disciple’s response is: Send me.
I value and want to encourage people who attempt the hard conversations. The ones willing to be honest, vulnerable, and open. I believe that people can firmly, fundamentally disagree with integrity and with grace. We can honor the person we disagree with. We can accept their attempts to honor us.
If there’s no space for sincere questioning, then we retreat to our two sides. Refusing to acknowledge the weaknesses in our own positions just hardens us. And there are always more than two ways to do anything. Mark Twain said, “Anyone who can only think of one way to spell a word obviously lacks imagination.”
So too with problems or policies or puzzles. If the change we want to see is a more civil society, someone must start.
I’ll start.
I am sorry, repentant of my partisan reaction when President Bill Clinton was accused of sexual misconduct with Paula Jones and, later, Monica Lewinsky. I didn’t want him to lie about it, but I wanted those women to go away. Didn’t they know how to avoid men like that? It wasn’t like Judge Clarence Thomas continuing to pursue Anita Hill after being rebuffed. Or was it? I was wrong to dismiss the harassment claims. I was wrong not to listen to the victims.
We’ve come a long way in recent months to listen to the victims of sexual assault. We still have a long way to go. It was not right then; it is not right now. Harassment is never right.
That said, don’t tell me that politics wasn’t involved in each of those cases. Who leaked what and when. Who was trying to take down whom. Which reminds me of Senator Graham.
When NBC news asked the Senator “whether sexual assault survivors would be more reluctant to come forward because Kavanaugh was confirmed despite allegations by Christine Blasey Ford, Graham said he did not believe so because Ford was ‘treated well’ by the Senate Judiciary Committee.”
"I think the roles were reversed: The slut whore drunk was Kavanaugh."
Excuse me? The slut whore drunk?
I’m trying hard not to read that as though he meant that Dr. Ford, or anyone else accusing someone of sexual assault, should normally be so characterized, so demeaned. Especially since Judge Kavanaugh’s drinking habits in high school and college were expressly not evaluated before or during the supplemental FBI background check. There are many college contemporaries who wanted to be deposed. Instead, we must be content with Judge Kavanaugh’s oft-repeated claim that he likes beer.
#MeToo.
The State newspaper reported that Graham continued: “I’m glad those who tried to overturn the rule of law and replace it with mob rule lost. I’ve never been more pissed in my life.”
Profanity aside, if this is true, then Senator Graham should be grateful. From his statement we can safely conclude that he has never experienced, nor tried to report, sexual harassment, much less sexual assault. With all due respect, Senator, I can assure you that if you had, you’d be much, much angrier.
I watched the hearing with Dr. Ford. I cried during her testimony. I felt deep compassion for Judge Kavanaugh. We are all humans, wounded humans, and what we all want is to be heard, to be valued, to be loved as only God can love us. I felt that love for both of them.
But Dr. Ford was courteous, honest, collegial. She was clear about what she did and did not remember. Judge Kavanaugh, by contrast, was emotional and vindictive. He spewed a partisan screed about how unjustly he was being treated. He attacked, whined, dismissed, sneered at and evaded questions.
Yes, the Democratic Senators tried to score points with their base. Yes, the Republican’s tactic to have a “female prosecutor” (Really? She couldn’t just be a prosecutor?) ask questions of Dr. Ford, and then to abandon that prosecutor when they were ready to defend Judge Kavanaugh—scoring points with their base—set the stage for a farce.
Though I knew I disagreed with most of Judge Kavanaugh’s rulings, I was willing to accept his nomination to the Court. But his testimony changed my mind. His partisan, self-pitying, venomous behavior, in my opinion, disqualified him from the Supreme Court. He was not owed that life-time appointment, no matter how hard he worked or how many people recommended him. A judge should be dispassionate, even under extreme duress. That judicial temperament is hard. It’s why we only have nine Supreme Court Justices. Disagree? Consider this article by Eliot Cohen, a Republican who served under two Republican Presidents.
If there’s no space for sincere questioning, then we just retreat to our two sides. But there are always more than two ways to do anything. With healthy, respectful debate, one way may emerge as the best way forward. But it’s hardly ever the only way. And demonizing the opponent is merely protecting your own ego. It’s fear, not strength.
Let’s end on a hopeful note.
Jack, Emma and I were temporarily stranded at the Battle of Camden National Battlefield. The scout campout had been cancelled, but we didn’t get the message. We ended up having a lovely, impromptu visit with our dear friend, Don, who spur-of-the-moment let us crash on his floor and eat all his packaged oatmeal. On Saturday I took the kids to Lizard’s Thicket, the Columbia restaurant where Mark and I went most Saturday mornings.
We got a booth and I was reminiscing about the two waitresses we loved, Miss April and Miss Gloria, when they both walked by! What?! Miss Gloria loved seeing Jack as a big 10 year old and she’d never met Emma, who was quite fetching in her SuperGirl costume. We took pictures with all available phones and I asked Miss G about her son, who, last I’d heard, had been studying to be a teacher.
He graduated and is teaching now. He chose middle school. I said oh my, that’s a tough age, how great that he’s willing to be there. And Miss G said, “Yes, yes. He was determined to go there. You know, he had a really hard time in middle school, and he wanted to go there to make a difference.” I was so struck I couldn’t respond right away. What an amazing statement of a life purpose.
If the change we want to see is a more civil society, someone must start. Gandhi said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” I love that Miss Gloria’s son decided: Be the person you wish you’d had in your life.
I want to be the person I wish I’d been for my friend in college.
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PS: Check out this great article by Simran Jeet Singh, an American Sikh. To Overcome Patriarchy, Men First Must See It In Themselves.
