I Have Never Forgotten

I haven't written anything in a few days, mostly because I've been struggling with the topic of the day - the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh for the Supreme Court, and the allegations of  sexual assault that have been lodged against him.

I can talk about it in a detached sort of way, as I have on social media in reaction to questions or comments - that's relatively easy:

• prior FBI background checks would not have been likely to delve into this type of thing, particularly since, from all appearances Kavanaugh has led an exemplary life as an adult
• having an additional investigation by the FBI at this point should only help Kavanaugh, if he's innocent, and I wonder why he was so afraid to ask for one on his own, or even say that he wanted one, when asked. It seemed odd to me, that exchange with Senator Durbin.
• neither being first in your class nor being a virgin for many many many years have anything to do with sexual harassment, and those seemed like odd defenses to have raised, either in an interview on the friendliest possible network or at a Senate hearing 
• if he's not on the Bench by tomorrow, surely the world won't come to an end; we have concrete proof of that thanks to Mitch McConnell
• no Democrats were going to vote for him, unless out of a desire for self-preservation as Dems in Trump country, and the investigation will not change that. 
• Kavanaugh's performance at the hearing on Thursday seemed to be exactly that: a performance, driven by Trump's comments about his temperament during the Fox News interview than anything else. 
• Dr. Blasey Ford's account sounded plausible, and I found her testimony about the event both compelling and horrifying.

But really talking about it, or writing about it, has been very difficult.

Because I have been the under-aged drinker at parties with no parents around, or with parents who looked the other way.

Because I have been the girl in the bedroom, being drunkenly and aggressively fondled by a 'friend' when I was clearly, drunkenly, unable to give consent.

And I was not the only one, back in the 70s, as a small-town teenager trying to navigate high school.

We didn't have a fancy country club. We had back roads and drinking spots and the Kissing Bridge and other make-out spots and I saw many times those became one and the same, a natural progression, if you will. We had dances at school, with plenty of dark and out of the way spots like parking lots and playgrounds and athletic fields. And there were parties.

I remember one particular party - I was not in attendance - the rumors and gossip and tales of drunken exploits were so rampant that the school principal got involved, urging discussions on under-aged drinking and personal and parental responsibility and things along those lines.

The drinking age was 18; the purchasing age was lower, or there were older friends willing to help out in a pinch. Or there was stealing booze, or there was the basement keg. It was easy.

And, one time, for me, things got out of hand, and could have gotten really out of hand, had someone not knocked on the door. Not out of concern, mind you, but because he wanted the room.

Back then, it wasn't considered sexual assault; I don't know that anyone in high school ever reported it to anyone. We were awkward and nervous and afraid. Afraid to participate, and afraid not to. Alcohol was cool, and liberating. Choices were made, sometimes regretted.

I didn't tell my parents about any of this, about the drinking, or about that time when things got out of hand, because I was in the wrong place doing the wrong thing, and so it was my fault.

They found out about the drinking, of course, but that's a whole nother story. I don't believe they knew about that time when things got out of hand, and could have gotten really out of hand.

I don't have a calendar from high school; somewhere, I have my high school yearbook, not sure exactly where it is. But I know my yearbook, like Brett Kavanaugh's, has references to parties, and drinking, and a whole host of things I'm admonished to never forget.

And like Dr. Blasey Ford, I have never forgotten.