Floodgates

So I’ve been thinking about the recent Kavanaugh hearings. I know, me and the rest of the world. But I didn’t know I was thinking about it. I thought I was just going about my daily life. Instead, I found myself on the checkout line at Whole Foods, suddenly remembering a date in my early twenties where the guy talked about getting me drunk, or specifically, “got to get this stuff in you,” as he poured my glass of wine at dinner. I told my family days later, and they said they felt sorry for him.

Or the stalker I had after college, when I had been told by someone I trusted that I had led him on because I did sit on his lap one night when we were all out together with a group of friends. Did I lead him on? Was it my fault that he threatened to kill me and I had to move apartments multiple times just to feel safe again?

I woke up before my alarm the other morning. I am the complete opposite of a morning person. Yet, immediately, my brain went back to college again, and a night of partying with friends. Yes, I was drinking. Yes, I got myself in a bad situation. Yes, I ended up alone with a guy I knew peripherally and he made his moves. And this is when I thank the gods, or more specifically, this particular guy. Because I could have been Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. I could have been assaulted, and I would not have remembered enough key moments that those around me would surely have doubted me. What was an ordinary, un-memorable night for my friends became a completely memorable night for me due to what might have been. Yet if you asked me what I was wearing that night, or how I got from Point A to Point B, I have no recollection. I would have been doubted, possibly even doubting myself.

But I got lucky. My guy tried, but when I said no, he listened. Maybe it took a few tries, but nothing happened beyond those initial moves. I had girlfriends with me who took care of me, and the guy in the end knew the difference between no and NO. Not being wishy washy about it, and using whatever clarity I still had, he listened. And I have always known how lucky I was that he did. That night is forever seared in my memory for what did not happen.

And that is why Dr. Ford’s testimony has struck such a chord. It has entered my sub- conscience during the most ordinary of tasks, and woken me from a deep slumber. The memories might be from long ago, but the emotions are rippling through me at this moment. Is it less valid because I don’t remember if it was a Monday or Friday? Or that I walked into a bar of my own volition? Or one moment might be with me forever, but let’s not destroy the poor guy’s life because of that moment? We should all be so lucky as to get to choose the moments that might define us. Life ends up happening between those defining moments, and what haunts us can also propel change in a positive way, but we have to at least acknowledge its existence.