Right now, I am trying very hard not to think about Brett Kavanaugh while simultaneously watching MSNBC Senate coverage and occasionally tweeting. I am not sure why.
Yesterday’s blog was titled along the lines of whether or not, in this #MeToo moment, anything I had previously blogged or said in messages to Senators even mattered.
It was reading last night’s WSJ Kavanaugh apology tour that I knew it hadn’t.
I do not know with 100% surety that Brett Kavanaugh assaulted Dr. Christine Blasey Ford – neither do I know he didn’t.
We would need a more robust FBI investigation for that.
For me, the spectacle of his enraged testimony last Thursday compared with her attempt to stay composed as she recounted what she remembered happening to her was the clincher.
His mask dropped. The partisan Brett Kavanaugh he was during his early career is not that far below the surface of the jurist.
And the meanness he might have displayed in his high school and college years while under the influence was scary to me because in his performance, I could imagine it.
But then, I always find men’s anger ugly. It absolutely cows me.
It was ugly in my alcoholic father when he came home at night and berated and demeaned my mother for no good reason.
It was ugly on Lindsey Graham’s face in every interview he has given this past week, and his ugly implication that all one had to do to find a woman who will willingly lie about being sexually assaulted is to drive through a trailer park, handing out $100 bills.
Basically, Graham was calling women who claim sexual assault “trailer trash.” (That phrase mine, interpreting what he said.)
It was very ugly on the face of Brett Kavanaugh. His rage.
As a sexual assault survivor and victim of multiple instances of sexual harassment, it was scary to look upon.
When I see the face of justice, I imagine it as having no discernible emotion. Not until all have been heard and a judge has weighed testimony and evidence in the context of the law and how it has been applied in prior cases, how it applies in the case now being heard.
I do not trust Brett Kavanaugh to have the face of justice any more. I am willing to be wrong. But it will have to be proven over time.
Meanwhile, I believe this country needs a course correction. It will not come at the hands of the GOP, despite the dearest wishes of Jeff Flake.
Which is why for the first time since Reagan, I will be voting Blue down the line – unless there are credible reasons not to.
At the moment, I can’t think of any.
In the meantime, after Nicole Wallace’s hour is over and I have taken a long, hot bath, I will be reading Hannah Arendt on “The Origins of Totalitarianism.”
Because, dear friends, we are already many years headed down that path.
I just pray my vote this November is not too late. And that the ones I cast before can be ameliorated.