Speaking Truth to Power (29 page)

Initially questioned by Senator Heflin, Judge Thomas first informed the committee that he had not listened to my testimony. It was a clever move, for Senator Heflin admitted he didn’t want to repeat the details to which I had testified, and without repeating the testimony, Heflin was hampered in questioning Thomas. And Thomas’ claim that he had not seen it also insulated him from having to deny any of the particulars, positioning him perfectly to take the offensive. Which is exactly what he did. He delivered his most angry and intimidating remarks about the process, calling the hearing a “high-tech lynching,” and accusing the Democratic senators on the committee, in a thinly cloaked fashion, of a peculiar form of racism aimed only at conservative blacks—a fusion of racial and ideological bias of which Thomas was now the target. The senators recoiled at the near accusation and were no doubt caught off guard by it. Unfortunately, none of the senators appeared sure enough in his own perspective on race to address such a charge. Everyone could agree that lynching was deplorable. And no one wanted to be accused of being involved in one, neither the senators nor the members of the public. All too ingeniously, Thomas made it clear that anyone who supported the charge of harassment would be figuratively engaging in the deplorable act of lynching. The truth of the claim of racism or the appropriateness of the lynching metaphor in the context of an accusation by a black woman against a well-placed black man didn’t matter.
Thomas, through his “high-tech lynching” speech, drew a line in a sense, and listeners were given the choice of either siding with racism or siding with Judge Thomas.

Thomas further charged that my statement and testimony were the product of a conspiracy by “someone or some groups.” Though he failed to assert who or how the conspiracy evolved, this statement, like so many of the Republican senators’ statements, went unchallenged. Since the day the public became aware of the charge, the Republicans had been looking for some connection between me and a group opposed to Thomas. Of course, no such connection existed. Nevertheless, the committee members allowed Thomas to assert a conspiracy without requesting any evidence of one. Their knowledge of the roles that interest groups generally play in politics may have hampered them from challenging Thomas’ assertion that interest groups were involved in this particular instance.

As I watched Thomas’ testimony from my hotel room, I could not help but see the irony in his claim of racism. In the years that I had known him, he had always chosen, both publicly and privately, to belittle those who saw racism as an obstacle. In the case of his sister, he asserted that the real barriers to economic and political achievement were a lack of industry and initiative and a reliance on remedial programs. Yet, now having met an obstacle to his
own
dream, he blamed racism. I wondered if he might then change his mind about the impact racism had on other lives. To me Judge Thomas, as the nominee of a then very popular president, was unlike individuals who found themselves outside power trying to assert their rights against the powerful. He had aligned himself with power—the very power that had exploited racism for political purposes in the infamous Willie Horton ad. Thomas was no Thurgood Marshall, whose nomination to the Supreme Court had been challenged by segregationists exploiting racist ideas and claiming that, as a black man, Marshall was not smart enough to serve on the Court. Thomas was not being challenged by separatists because of the color of his skin. In fact, Thomas’ challengers seemed to be painfully sympathetic to the racial implications of claims that he might be incompetent.

Thomas’ current claim of victimhood was so stunningly out of character that it at first struck me as disingenuous. That his confirmation had suffered a brief suspension was the result of circumstances initially set in motion by Thomas himself. Later, however, I concluded that his remarks were less disingenuous than merely calculated, just as his earlier remarks belittling racism had been. The remarks he made in the hearing were calculated to defuse the Democrats before they’d had an opportunity to approach him about the harassment charges themselves. And they were calculated to win sympathy from a public that, through the passage of antilynching and civil rights laws, had decried the use of violence to curtail the social and political activities of blacks. What better weapon to use against liberals like Kennedy and Metzenbaum or a senator from Alabama like Heflin than the fear of being labeled a racist. A claim of racism coupled with a claim of ideological persecution captured the sympathies of not only those on the right but those in the middle as well.

Bewildered and angered by Thomas’ remarks, I watched as the stunned Democratic members of the panel lost any moral authority they might have asserted in keeping the proceeding balanced. Two days later on Sunday afternoon, Senator Kennedy would attempt to respond to the allegations of racism. And as a proponent of civil rights legislation, he was in a prime position to take on the claim of racial bias. But however articulate and reasoned his speech, none of his Democratic colleagues seconded it. Thomas’ claim of a high-tech lynching had given the Republicans something akin to a spiritual boost—a platform of righteousness. They had already indicated that they could indeed win a battle to control public information about the hearing. Judge Thomas’ high-tech lynching claim gave them a moral justification for moving forward in their attacks against me. The Republicans could now claim that their aggressive pursuit of the Thomas nomination was motivated by their resistance to racism. Though Thomas supporters may once have claimed that racism no longer existed and used Thomas to support their assertion, they now could claim to deplore racism and use Thomas’ treatment as an example of why it still had to be fought.

And though I know the power that the label of racism had over the
Democratic senators, I would not understand until days later the extent to which I, too, had been labeled a racist or an accomplice of racism.

Had the questioning of Judge Thomas been similarly argumentative, the proceeding would have had the appearance of fairness. But Judge Thomas’ questioning that evening by Senator Hatch and other senators was deferential, even conciliatory. “Judge Thomas, I have sat here and I have listened all day long, and Anita Hill was very impressive,” Senator Hatch said. “She is an impressive law professor. She is a Yale Law graduate. And, when she met with the FBI, she said that you told her about your sexual experiences and preferences. And I hate to go into this but I want to go into it because I have to, and I know that is something that you wish you had never heard at any time or place. But I think it is important that we go into it, and let me just do it this way.”

Hatch prepared Thomas for his questioning by apologetically explaining the necessity for his action. “She said to the FBI that you told her about your sexual experiences and preferences, that you asked her what she liked or if she had ever done the same thing, that you discussed oral sex between men and women, that you discussed viewing films of people having sex with each other and with animals, and that you told her that she should see such films, and that you would like to discuss specific sex acts and the frequency of sex. What about that?”

“Senator, I would not want to, except being required to here, to dignify those allegations with a response. As I have said before, I categorically deny them. To me, I have been pilloried with scurrilous allegations of this nature. I have denied them earlier and I deny them tonight.” This Clarence Thomas was almost deferential. Yet only minutes later he would go on the attack—an attack that would clear the way for his confirmation.

Not only did the questioning of Thomas beg an answer which allowed him to exonerate himself but the language used to describe the nature of the conduct which I testified to was much less sexually graphic than when I was questioned.

“Did you ever have lunch with Professor Hill at which you talked about sex or pressured her to go out with you?”

“Absolutely not.” Oddly, the senator did not ask if Thomas had asked me out—only if he had “pressured” me to go out. Thomas might have answered in a way that was truthful to him, not seeing the numerous requests as pressure.

“Did you ever tell Professor Hill that she should see pornographic films?” The senator meticulously went down his list of questions, mentioning the gist of the charges but relieving Thomas of the responsibility of responding to any of the details.

“Absolutely not.” The questions begged the answer and Thomas knew that he must take the hard-line approach. Any deviation might result in the public concluding that while he had not sexually harassed me he had acted improperly toward me. He could not risk that reaction.

Senator Hatch prompted Judge Thomas, “Did you ever talk about pornography with Professor Hill?” Judge Thomas responded accordingly, “I did not discuss any pornographic material or pornographic preferences or pornographic films with Professor Hill.”

Though there is no clear evidence that Hatch and Thomas practiced the questions, their interaction worked so well as to appear choreographed. Each knew his role—step by step. Senator Hatch knew the right question; Thomas knew the proper response—aimed at clearing the nomination. The “conversation” between the fastidious Orrin Hatch and the president’s “most qualified” nominee, Thomas, played smoothly. They were so unlike the awkward “conversations” that I had with the members of the committee earlier in the day. Even the questions from the Democrats on the committee sometimes suggested untruthfulness or skepticism. Then it occurred to me that as the president’s nominee Thomas had prepared for weeks for their “conversations.” Moreover, he had practiced with them in the days before the leak of my statement. He spoke their language. In this sense, Biden was right: “the presumption was with” him. He came to the committee as an invited guest. I, on the other hand, was an intruder whom the public had forced upon the committee.

Perhaps the Democrats were deferential to Thomas because of his position on the bench. Nevertheless, in a hearing where both parties are
assumed to be on equal footing, no discrepancies based on title should exist. Yet the tenor and approach to Judge Thomas were different. The willingness to ask him difficult or embarrassing questions was missing.

“Well, if [Hill’s allegations] did not occur, I think you are in a position, with certainly your ability to testify, in effect, to try to eliminate it from people’s minds.”

“Senator, I didn’t create it in people’s minds. This matter was investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation in a confidential way. It was then leaked last weekend to the media. I did not do that. And how many members of this Committee would like to have the same scurrilous, uncorroborated allegations made about him and then leaked to national newspapers and then be drawn and dragged before a national forum of this nature to discuss those allegations that should have been resolved in a confidential way?”

“Well, I certainly appreciate your attitude towards leaks. I happen to serve on the Senate Ethics Committee and it has been a sieve,” Senator Heflin said, establishing their common concern.

“But it didn’t leak on me. This leaked on me … You have robbed me of something that can never be restored.” Thomas portrayed himself as a victim. He would have nothing of the camaraderie offered by Heflin.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Senator DeConcini reassured Thomas.

By Friday night rumors were confirmed that another woman named Angela Wright had come forward with similar information about Clarence Thomas. Though no one on the team knew her, we all waited anxiously to hear what she had to say. This and the day’s events floated through my consciousness as I fell asleep that night.

On Saturday, October 12, the lines of communication between our team and the committee leadership seemed to break down just as the coordination between Judge Thomas and the Republicans on the committee, reportedly, was coalescing. I sat in my hotel room all day, alternately watching the hearings and sports. Shirley Wiegand kept me company, watching television with me. Shirley is decidedly not a sports fan, but she, too, was weary of the rapidly deteriorating process and needed
relief from the performance by the committee. For me, watching sports was a welcome alternative to the hearing. In sports there are rules and officials who enforce those rules and the penalties for violations. For Shirley, it was a true act of friendship. Throughout the day she brought me food that she encouraged me to eat, and kept me informed about the conversations she overheard on the street. Though we both brought our work to Washington from Oklahoma, I was too distracted to do mine. And just as I was about to turn completely into myself, she gave up doing her reading and focused on diverting me from the sense of gloom that nearly overtook me.

Shirley Wiegand was my lifeline to reality—the person who kept me believing that the entire world had not gone mad, though it certainly seemed that way. An accomplished attorney before she entered law teaching, she stood away from the strategy and pace of negotiating my “case” with the committee. Instead she was stuck with the uninteresting job of hand-holding. Some in the press would even misrepresent that true friendship, to exploit the salacious and unfounded suggestion that our relationship was sexual in nature. But none of it, not the politics, not the media attention, meant anything to her. Shirley simply acted out of concern for me. Everyone should have a friend like her.

S
aturday morning, Senator Hatch pulled one of the most dramatic and bizarre stunts of the entire proceeding. During the Friday session I had testified that Thomas had referred to a pornographic film character, Long Dong Silver, in his discussion of pornography. I had also testified that Thomas had made a remark about pubic hair on his Coke can. Hatch received information from a local law firm that the book
The Exorcist
contained a reference to pubic hair in a drink and that a reported court decision referred to “Long Dong Silver.” Based on the purportedly unsolicited information arriving mysteriously in his office, Senator Hatch asserted that I had fabricated my testimony based on the court case and the book. Hatch waved the book about during the proceeding as though it were the smoking gun found at a murder scene. It did not
matter that I had read neither the case nor the book, or that the passage in the book differed critically from what I explained Thomas had said to me. What had come to matter was the theater of it all—and its impact on the public mind. And, despite his initial rule excluding irrelevant information, Chairman Biden entered the misinformation into the proceeding record.