An Open Letter to Dr. Christine Blasey Ford

I’ll never forget Thursday, September 27, 2018.  

I believe that thousands, if not millions of other women and men will too — if not the exact date, then the memory of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford standing tall in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee. Telecast everywhere, she detailed what Supreme Court judge nominee Brett Kavanaugh did to her at a party when she was fifteen years old. Then, it was Kavanaugh’s turn. I couldn’t tell you what was said word-for-word because I didn’t watch. The place I work had a television on the far wall of my office, so at times I saw Dr. Ford speak but, thankfully, sat too far away to read the words flashing across the screen.It wasn’t out of disrespect or dislike that I avoided Dr. Ford’s testimony. It was out of self preservation. I avoided social media and tried to bury myself in work. Occasionally I cheated and peaked at Facebook or Twitter, but mostly I stuck to Instagram, where I could isolate myself in photos of kittens and famous actors I liked. I watched YouTube videos. I listened to some of my favorite podcasts. I did everything I could to block out the noise, the deafening noise, emitted by a Senate hearing taking place several thousands of miles away from where I lived.

It’s okay if you take a break tomorrow. If watching the hearing will be hard on you, take a step back. There’s millions of us that will step up for you.

The day before the Senate hearing, I saw a post by a nonprofit that helps sexual survivors. Its message was simple: it’s okay if you take a break tomorrow. If watching the hearing will be hard on you, take a step back. There’s millions of us that will step up for you.One mantra I’ve tried (and failed, and tried, and failed, and tried again) to implement with myself is to take advice I would give to others. Telling a survivor that they don’t have to watch the Kavanaugh shitstorm if it will be too triggering is exactly what I would tell someone. So, I woke up that Thursday with a plan to take my own advice. It wasn’t very hard; some things become such an intrinsic part of you that your brain and your heart work together to protect you. For me, it was knowing what phenomena would cause my PTSD about my rape to re-surface, and after three years, I’m pretty good at it.Three years. Wow. As of October 2, it has officially been three and a half years since I was raped. To this day, it affects me. That’s why I’m writing this letter to Dr. Ford, as well as to anyone who has ever asked, “But why did she wait all of these years?”Because it still matters, that’s why. I still have random moments, usually when I forget to take my anti-depression medication, that I am transported back to my senior year of college. It was the year when I felt isolated, when I had this cloud hanging over my head. I’ve written about it before, in my very first post, about how I dreaded going to college for my final year because I had a feeling, a horrible, all-consuming prediction, that something horrible was going to happen.

I’m writing this letter to Dr. Ford, as well as to anyone who has ever asked, “But why did she wait all of these years?” Because it still matters, that’s why.

It did — or rather, he did. I can still remember how alone I felt, my self-disgust, the hatred that sometimes caused me to dig my nails into my skin while I cried and wondered why he made me feel this way. Why did he make me feel like I wasn’t enough? Then, later, why did he not stop? Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Why do I now feel disgusted or cry (or both) when I look in the mirror, because I hate the thought that he was inside my very skin and didn’t feel like it was mine anymore?That’s why I couldn’t watch Dr. Ford. That’s why I believe Dr. Ford. That’s why I want people to believe her, too. Many people watched Dr. Ford and picked apart her story, whether they believed her or not; one person on my Facebook feed shared a “HimToo” post about how so many men are having their lives “ruined” by “false rape accusations.”False. Rape. Accusations. It sounds almost like an oxymoron. False because what — the victim couldn’t prove it in a court of law? I couldn’t prove it happened to me. Even had I gotten a rape kit the morning it happened, I still probably couldn’t prove it. He could just say we had “rough sex” or that I did it to myself. Maybe, if I was lucky, I would get a cop who would believe me and have the training needed to question an alleged rapist: how to phrase questions, how to look for inconsistencies (if any), how to get them comfortable so they tell the truth (even the ugly ones). Picture Elliot Stabler in Law and Order: SVU — not when he loses his temper, but when he gets “the perp” to relax and start to unravel his own lies.

False. Rape. Accusations. It sounds almost like an oxymoron. False because what — the victim couldn’t prove it in a court of law? I couldn’t prove it happened to me.

But, I doubt it. I was in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Chances are, the police didn’t have the proper training. God knows I didn’t know what to do — what if they didn’t believe me? Would I need a lawyer? How should I tell my parents? Who can I trust? We have so many of the same friends. How the hell am I going to pass my exams and graduate on time? I can’t fuck up now, merely six weeks until graduation. Is this my fault? Even during the highest pain, I wanted to believe it was all merely a misunderstanding. Three and a half years later, I see all of the Twitter, Facebook, television, reddit, Instagram and comment section fights. I see all of the people claiming Dr. Ford is a liar, a political opportunist, a pawn in the machine. I see people say they believe her. Sometimes both types of people want Kavanaugh to be confirmed — because they don’t want “due process” to be eroded. The fact that this is essentially a glorified job interview process, not a criminal trial, appears to have eluded them. The fact that he might have done it and has never paid for it appears to be foreign to their minds.I see it in mothers’ Facebook posts, saying they fear for when their son or brother or husband or father is “falsely” accused of rape. They don’t seem to realize, nor entertain the thought, that it’s not just motherless and sisterless and wife-less men who rape and assault women. Ted Bundy, perhaps the most nauseating serial rapist and killer of all time, had his mother’s support right until the very end, when he finally revealed where he dumped his victims’ bodies. Only then did his mother finally accept his guilt — and there was positively mountains of evidence against him.Christine Blasey Ford doesn’t have mountains of evidence, but she does have some. Brett Kavanaugh has some evidence, but whether its to his advantage or not is questionable. More interesting is their reactions: Dr. Ford was calm, measured, respectful of the proceedings, and answered questions. Judge Kavanaugh was loud, angry, aggressive and apparently even cried.Again, I didn’t watch. I didn’t need to. Hearing about it showed me I had made the right choice to not watch it. All I would do is relive my own trauma where I was Dr. Ford and the man who changed my life for the worse was Judge Kavanaugh. I remember staring at a wooden table as I recounted, calmly and quietly, what had happened to me on April 2, 2015. I remember hearing later how angry D, my rapist, had apparently been — he called me his stalker, said I was crazy, and that he felt “sick” from my vindictive and false accusation. You can see the similarities. I didn’t use any of the language I wanted to use to describe D: that he was a horrible narcissist, that he was a fuckboy, that he was liar and a petulant little baby with whiskey dick. I didn’t want to not have my account of the night he raped me not taken seriously, and while I was angry when I found out what he accused me of being, I did not take it out on my interviewers or my parents or my friends. I didn’t scream about how much I love beer and how smart I was, nor did I say it was a big conspiracy out to “get” me. I simply spoke my truth, because after a month of denying it, I had proven it was the only way I could be set free.

I remember staring at a wooden table as I recounted, calmly and quietly, what had happened to me on April 2, 2015. I remember hearing later how angry D, my rapist, had apparently been — he called me his stalker, said I was crazy, and that he felt “sick” from my vindictive and false accusation.

You can see where I’m going with this.Thousands, perhaps millions of people who never met Dr. Christine Blasey Ford are defending her. Many of them do it because they have been her — people like me. I know how hard it must have been to step into a room full of people, on television no less, and reveal what someone had done to you in the dark when no one was watching. I know what it’s like to have to recount in excruciating detail the worst moments of your life. I know what it’s like to know that, regardless of how truthful you are or how overly defensive he is, some people will believe him over you.

I simply spoke my truth, because after a month of denying it, I had proven it was the only way I could be set free.

This last part of the letter is specifically for Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. I want you to know that I am so inspired, and so proud of you. You don’t know me and probably never will, but just know that on that Thursday, I felt like a part of me was standing in front of a Senate judiciary hearing. I’m not a religious person, but if there is such a thing as sending love to a stranger through brain waves and sheer will power, I hope you received mine. I am truly sorry you had to go through this, and that you carried this pain for decades. I understand what it’s like to finally figure out what has cracked you open like an egg and caused pain to ooze out — around men, around women, around just yourself. I hope that, despite all the horrible pain and death threats, you come out of this at peace with yourself because — and here’s the important bit — you did the best you could. It’s something that’s brought me comfort during crucial moments in my life: to know that you did the best you could and that’s all you can do. Thank you for sharing your story, for coming forward so the world knows what Brett Kavanaugh really is. Regardless of how this week-long FBI investigation goes, and I imagine it will go very poorly because, well, Donald Trump (‘nuff said), the world will remember what you said and what he did. Some won’t believe, but because of you, many know that he is not fit to serve. Many know who he really is, underneath the thin veneer of civility and respectability. You will not be forgotten. Your courage is not unappreciated or unnoticed. Your bravery inspires millions. I cheered you on, a stranger I’ve never met, because I was you once. Sometimes I still am, and I know that thirty-six years from now, I still will be. Laws might have statute of limitations. Pain does not.This paragraph is somewhat offensive so some people might not want to read on. It’s directed at Donald Trump, Brett Kavanaugh, Mitch McConnell, and every other rape apologist that downplays and demeans survivors (Here’s to looking at you, Brock Turner) because of course I have to write a portion of this letter to them. There’s a movie called “Scent of a Woman” that stars Al Pacino as a blind war veteran. To paraphrase a certain, iconic line by Pacino in the climactic courtroom scene: To Donny, Brett, Mitch, wherever you are out there, fuck you too!I try to stay positive when I write these posts, because while they’re intended as therapy, I believe what you say and write matters. It probably harkens back to my idealism, or perhaps to a class I took in high school where we had to “focus on the positive.” So I’m going to swallow down the bitter things bubbling under the surface that Facebook and other places have inspired over the last few days, and instead remember that grace and forgiveness are what will move us as a people forward in a better direction. Take a breath and remember the good things that people have done for you — specifically, people who believe the opposite that you do about the Dr. Ford/Judge Kavanaugh debate. Remember we all want what is best, whichever version of that strikes us as true, and use that as the blueprint to how to turn this painful story into a happy ending. Talk about consent. Talk about the dark things that others have done to you. Talk about what you have done to others, and now regret. Talk about standing up for yourself, and respecting others as you would like them to do to you.

Take a breath and remember the good things that people have done for you — specifically, people who believe the opposite that you do about the Dr. Ford/Judge Kavanaugh debate.

Talk about how hard it must be for a survivor, on any side of this weird political divide we have happening in the United States, to stick to what she believes even when she knows others seek to destroy her. Dr. Ford knew that the men hiding behind a female prosecutor were not listening to her, and were just doing it out of political necessity because of the transformative power of the #MeToo movement. Midterms are coming up, after all. Dr. Ford knew this, and had death threats blowing up her email and her mailbox, and felt justifiably terrified -- and she stood up anyway.So, most importantly of all, listen. “Scent of a Woman” court scene.