Anyone who has been near the internet in the past two weeks will have seen stories and memes and other writings about the messages the Kavanaugh hearings have sent to women--especially young women and girls--who have been or may be victims of sexual assault. The term "chilling effect" has been ubiquitous and this, the second week (depending on how one is counting) that effect arguably grew with the backlash--the sadly inevitable backlash--against Dr. Christine Blasey Ford's allegations against the nominee. Her testimony last week, largely received with either muted and eyes-cast-down silence or head-nodding sympathy, was re-interpreted this week seemingly led by those with the anger-scrunched faces from which emanated shouts of ire.
The new narrative: men are in danger because these women can just say anything they want. One, the men in danger are white men. No one said that out loud and some will protest that categorization with "what about Clarence Thomas?" What this does is fail to recognize the actual dangers Black men face now and have faced historically and the systems of discrimination that have been reified because of these fears. [This is an especially good moment to watch or re-watch 13th.] Two, the narrative is not new. This is what we have been seeing in the work against campus sexual assault or rather the work to address acts of sexual assault on college campuses. This backlash, framed as due process rights for accused men, has been building for several years. [On the recommended reading list: this article about due process rhetoric.] It is reflected in the new sexual assault and harassment guidelines proposed by the Department of Education. Finally, the chilling effect is not new. What also emerged in the past few weeks are stories about why people did not report. They are numerous and they indicate that one, under reporting is real and that we need to pay attention to what the statistics about assaults do not say; and two, that the chilling effect of various social institutions (all the social institutions??) has been so deep that it does not require a catch phrase--we just called it reality.
In this climate, we are doing what we can do. I am not speaking for Erin, but I know we have both been using our respective knowledges and positions to interrupt the narratives and share information when and where we can. For me, this has been especially helpful in getting through these weeks, when I really have not known how to feel. In some ways, this week has felt like many others when I have been steeped in stories about sexual assault and injustices and impediments. Several weeks ago I left an institutional meeting in which I was the only one to speak up about a very problematic portrayal of how to handle campus sexual assault. And I wondered how much longer I could do this work; if I was always going to be outsider; if anyone was on my side. Subsequent conversations revealed that I was not an outlier in my thoughts and that my contributions to the discussion were actually quite effective in ways I had not been able to witness at the time. The speaking up matters--even when we cannot see the results; even when the results are not what we wanted.
It was a brutal week on a much larger scale. But it revealed that people will step up and say things--often really hard things. That people will rally. This gives me hope that, for example, schools will be compelled to retain the policies about sexual assault that were the result of the Obama-era guidelines. But things will continue to be hard. I do not expect a good outcome. This means we have to be prepared for more brutality ahead.
Because I see what is coming, I want to note all the good things I saw and experienced this week and hold them alongside all the pain and anguish; to share gratitude. Thank you to friend circles and all the checking in everyone was doing. Thank you to my colleagues and educator friends who put great care and thought into their lessons and interactions with students this week. I saw you and appreciate you. Thank you to all the colleagues I do not know who did the same. I read amazing stories this week of classroom activities related to the hearings. Thank you to all the women of color at the forefront of the activism on this issue with a special thank you to Ana Maria Archila who was one of two women who confronted Senator Jeff Flake in an elevator and made him listen to their stories. There was a lot of talking this week and--ironically--not a lot of hearing. I am thankful to all of those who know how to and value listening.