Karla Peterson: Kavanaugh accusations hit close to home for San Diego rape survivors

Sept. 23--A high-stakes political drama is playing out in Washington, D.C., as the Senate Judiciary Committee attempts to address Christine Blasey Ford's allegation that she was sexually assaulted by Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh in the early 1980s, when they were both in high school.

Ford's allegations -- that Kavanaugh forced himself on her at a party, tried to take off her clothes and covered her mouth when she tried to scream -- derailed what was looking like a smooth road toward Kavanaugh's confirmation.

But the road is not smooth anymore. And the Washington, D.C., story is hitting many women much closer to home.

Since Ford went public last week as the author of a previously confidential letter sent to Sen. Dianne Feinstein detailing her allegations, updates about when and under what circumstances Ford might testify before the committee and opinions about her veracity and Kavanaugh's guilt or innocence have been coming at a breakneck, breaking-news pace.

But while the headlines are constantly changing, Ford's allegations and Kavanaugh's denial of them have been met with a series of questions that are as old as the hills, and they never fail to spark fresh pain in the hearts of assault survivors.

Questions like:

"Why did she wait so long to say something?"

"How can her memories be trusted after all these years?"

"How does she even know it was him?"

And: "Why should we hold a man accountable for something that may or may not have happened when he was in high school?"

With a Supreme Court seat hanging in the balance and midterm elections keeping both parties in a perpetual panic, much of the tweeting, pontificating and speculating is rooted in politics. But for some San Diego women who are survivors of sexual assault and its aftermath, it doesn't feel political.

It's personal.

And it hurts.

"I know that a lot of survivors are triggered right now," said Brittany Catton Kirk, who was raped in 2012 and founded the Sunlight Retreats healing weekends for fellow survivors five years later.

"They are seeing the comments (about Ford) that some of their friends and families and even strangers are making on social media, and it feels like a setback in terms of the #MeToo movement. People will say to me, 'I'm impressed with the work you're doing, but I still think (Ford) is a complete liar and a total disgrace.' Or someone will say, 'I was raped when I was young, and I moved past it. This didn't define me because I'm such a tough gal.'

"You know, the women who come to our retreats want nothing more than to move on with their lives and put it behind them, so it's hard to see such a tough response."

Hard, but not unexpected.

It has been 27 years since Anita Hill testified before the (then) all-male Senate Judiciary Committee that Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas had sexually harassed her when she worked for him. Women who speak up about being abused or harassed are subjected to the same grilling now that Hill was subjected to then.

Grillings like this one from President Trump, who stayed uncharacteristically quiet about Ford's allegations for five days before tweeting this on Friday:

"I have no doubt that, if the attack on Dr. Ford was as bad as she says, charges would have been immediately filed with local Law Enforcement Authorities by either her or her loving parents. I ask that she bring those filings forward so that we can learn date, time, and place!"

Ford did not file charges with local law enforcement after the party. Or ever. Which is what many survivors of sexual assault do.

According to a 2015 Washington Post-Kaiser Family Foundation Survey of current and recent college students, 88 percent of women who experienced unwanted sexual contact did not tell police or university authorities about the incidents.

In the Anonymous Sunlight Retreat for Survivors of Rape Survey that Kirk began posting in 2013, 49 percent of the 133 respondents said they told no one about their rape, and 66 percent said they did not report the rape.

Of the 45 survivors who said they did report the rape, 76 percent said no official action was taken.

In 1981, Cheri -- who did not want her last name used -- was raped by a stranger. She reported it to the San Diego Police Department, and while it was investigated, her rapist was never caught.

Except for her mother, her best friend and her husband, no one else knew. And when Cheri was sexually harassed in multiple jobs by multiple supervisors years later, she kept it to herself.

So like the women who made the #WhyIDidntReport hashtag go viral hours after Trump's tweet on Friday, Cheri understands why Ford didn't go public with her allegations until she sent the letter to Feinstein in July.

Why would she?

Why would anybody?

"It is fear," Cheri said, noting that Ford had to leave her home after she started receiving death threats. "It is completely and absolutely fear that you will be shouted down, or that people will say that you are a slut, or that your motives were misguided.

"Think about what has happened in the past. When I was growing up, any girl who was raped and went to court, she ended up having her whole life dissected. The saying was that in order for you to be a legitimate witness, you had to have a spotless life."

Like the rise of the #MeToo revolt against sexual harassment, Ford's accusations and the sometimes infuriating responses to them have jump-started important conversations about sexual assault and given victims the chance to unite, share their stories and take action.

But the controversy has also revealed that many people do not understand how prevalent sexual assault is, and how hard it is to bring it to light. According to the National Sexual Violence Resource Center, one in five women and one in 71 men will be raped at some point in their lives. In the U.S., one in three women and one in six men experienced some form of contact sexual violence in their lifetime.

Sixty-three percent of sexual assaults are not reported to the police. The prevalence of false reporting is between 2 percent and 10 percent.

A few years ago, a former San Diegan I will call the Educator was meeting with a man who was very influential in her field. After a few minutes, he locked the door of his office, pressed himself and his erection against her from behind and grabbed her breasts.

She managed to get away from him then, and also when he followed her into the parking lot. She reported it to two colleagues, both of whom laughed it off. That incident, combined with a traumatic event that had happened shortly before, sent the Educator into a tailspin. She lost her job, she left the state and abandoned the field altogether.

Now, she is watching the Kavanaugh case develop and feeling undermined all over again. She is hoping that some good will come of it. That Ford will be heard and taken seriously. She is keeping her fingers crossed, but she is not holding her breath.

"This makes me feel awful," she said when I spoke to her on the phone earlier this week. "Here you have someone coming forward and being so discounted before her story was even heard. That has really affected me. This stuff comes up, and it just sets you back. I don't think people realize that."

Twitter: @karla_peterson

karla.peterson@sduniontribune.com

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