29 years ago, I was the victim of a homophobic, physical assault by a group of boys. There were three of us, in drag, and four of them, carrying lacrosse sticks, which they beat us with. The police were slow to arrest them, even though our attackers did not leave the scene. In fact the first person arrested in the moment was one of our friends, trying to alert the cops to what had happened.
Later, we testified against our attackers in a courtroom. I remember that day all too well. An unscrupulous defense attorney questioned my motivation, attacked my character, twisted my words around, and did everything he could to plant seeds of doubt in the jury and turn the case against us. I was portrayed as making sexual advances against my attacker, who in this fabricated version fought himself off—the "homosexual panic" defense. It worked. The jury found my assailant not guilty. [Download Story.]
Today, watching Dr. Christine Blasey Ford recount her childhood assault at the hands of Brett Kavanaugh—who the Republicans have been trying to rush to fill a lifetime position on the Supreme Court—I felt again in my bones all these years later what it was like to be put in the spotlight and questioned as if I, and not my attacker, was the guilty one. I remember what it was like to have two versions put up against each other and then twisted around to appeal to the biases and prejudices of those making the ultimate decision.
I know what it's like to have an assault imprinted on you for years and years, expecting another one, sick with the knowledge that there is no justice and you will not be believed. But I believe Dr. Blasey Ford.
I believe her.
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