Mr. President, I have to say I am sick of this. I am sick of everyone who wants to rewrite the history of what happened in the Senate with the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the United States. It isn't even over yet, and they want people…
Mr. President, I have to say I am sick of this. I am sick of everyone who wants to rewrite the history of what happened in the Senate with the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the United States. It isn't even over yet, and they want people to believe that what we have witnessed over the past weeks was what they call a ``political hit job perpetrated by Democrats with a grudge.''
That is the story the nominee himself tried to sell in his testimony on Thursday. He accused Democrats of lying in wait. He twisted Ranking Member Feinstein's respect for Dr. Christine Blasey Ford's wish for privacy. He falsely claimed Democrats had her accusation ``ready,'' that Dr. Ford's accusation ``was held in secret for weeks,'' because the Democrats, as Judge Kavanaugh put it, ``couldn't take me out on the merits.''
What a paranoid fantasy.
Brett Kavanaugh's entire performance was an hour's long rant. I am quoting him. He said:
This whole two-week effort has been a calculated and
orchestrated political hit, fueled with apparent pent-up
anger about President Trump and the 2016 election.
Fear that has been unfairly stoked about my judicial
record. Revenge on behalf of the Clintons, and millions of
dollars in money from outside left-wing opposition groups.
Unbelievable, in my view. He claimed to have written this screed on his own without showing it to any of his handlers. I find that hard to believe, given that he was reported to have spent 10-hour days at the White House preparing for this hearing.
We heard Dr. Ford's raw and sincere account of that night as a drunk teenaged Brett Kavanaugh and Mark Judge attacked her. The nominee called it a ``grotesque and coordinated character assassination.'' But this isn't a conspiracy, Judge Kavanaugh. It is real.
Look at what Dr. Ford's coming forward has triggered. People believe her for many reasons. Her recall of events is consistent with the way survivors of trauma remember things. Her demeanor was forthright and open. She had everything to lose and nothing to
gain by coming forward, and despite what many are saying, there is quite a bit of collaboration of her story.
She knew Brett Kavanaugh. She socialized with his circle of friends. She had told people in her life what happened to her long before Brett Kavanaugh was nominated to the Supreme Court. His calendar attests to him having attended at least one gathering consistent with her recollection.
But another reason so many people believe Dr. Ford is that her account is so familiar. It has echoes in so many of our own stories, our own experiences. So many women have survived some version of what happened to her, along a spectrum of experiences that range from creepy looks or catcalls to rape and other violent attacks. So many women have kept their stories to themselves for fear of not being believed, for fear of retaliation or humiliation, or shunning.
In a column written by Monica Hesse in the Washington Post, entitled ``Dear dads: Your daughters told me about their assaults. This is why they never told you,'' Ms. Hesse writes about all the reasons why survivors don't even tell people closest to them about what happened to them.
She writes:
For all the stereotypes that linger about women being too
fragile or emotional, these past weeks have revealed what
many women already knew: A lot of effort goes into protecting
men we love from bad things that happen to us.''
She writes to fathers who are only now finding out about the daily indignities women endure and explains why they were never told and why their loved ones were now writing to Hesse herself.
I am going to quote extensively from this article:
To the father of the young woman who was assaulted by the
student athlete she was hired to tutor: She never told you
because she didn't want to break your heart. But she told me,
in a long email, because the memory of it was breaking her
own heart and she'd spent five years replaying it.
To the father of the junior high student who was pinned
down and undressed at a gathering 30 years ago: She didn't
tell you because she didn't want to see you cry. But she told
me that she still remembers every detail.
To the father of the teenager who was raped at a party: You
don't know about this, because she was certain that if you
knew, you would kill her attacker and go to prison, and it
would be her fault.
To the father of the son who was assaulted by an older man:
I wish I could tell you more about what happened to him, but
he wouldn't tell me, and he definitely won't tell you,
because manliness is important to you, he says.
To all the fathers of all the silent victims: Your children
are quietly carrying these stories, not because they can't
handle the emotions but because they are worried that you
can't.
They are worried that your emotions will have too many
consequences. Or they fear you won't think of them the same
way. Or that you'll be distraught because you didn't protect
them.
These words and stories are powerful, and Ms. Hesse is right. So many survivors want to protect their loved ones, but Ms. Hesse is also right that they shouldn't keep their stories in. She urges them, saying:
So, to the rest of you: If you could tell your father in a
way that feels safe, and in a way that would bring you
comfort, tell your father. Tell your brothers. Let them be
uncomfortable; let them share some of your pain. Don't let
them be ignorant.
And once women are able to share their experiences, what should we do with them? I agree with the author Rebecca Traister, who captured so much of what I have been thinking lately in a piece called ``Fury Is a Political Weapon, and Women Need to Wield It.'' This is in the New York Times. I want to read some of it to you.
Ms. Tracer wrote:
Outside the room where Christine Blasey Ford forward was
testifying on Thursday morning, women were incandescent with
rage and sorrow and horror.
They were getting angry in a new way, a public way, an
unapologetic way--a way that is typically reserved for men,
and that would again serve men well, when afternoon came.
Brett Kavanaugh bellowed; he snarled; he pouted and wept
furiously at the injustice of having his ascendance to power
interrupted by accusations of sexual assault.
He challenged his questioners, turned their queries back on
them.
What happened inside the room was an exceptionally clear
distillation of who has historically been allowed to be angry
on their own behalf, and who has not.
And outside the room was a hint of how it might be
changing.
Most of the time, female anger is discouraged, repressed,
ignored, swallowed. Or transformed into something more
palatable and less recognizable as fury--something like
tears. When women are truly lived, they often weep.
Maybe we cry when we're furious in part because we feel a
kind of grief at all the things we want to say or yell that
we know we can't.
Maybe we're just sad about the very same things that we're
angry about. I wept as soon as Dr. Blasey began to speak.
On social media, I saw hundreds of messages from women who
reported the same experience, of finding themselves awash in
tears, simply in response to this woman's voice, raised in
polite dissent.
The power of the moment, the anxiety that it would be
futile, the grief that we would even have to put her--and
ourselves--through this spectacle, was intense.
Tears are permitted as an outlet for wrath in part because
they are fundamentally misunderstood.
One of my sharpest memories from an early job in a male-
dominated office, where I once found myself weeping with
inexpressible rage, was my being grabbed by the scruff of my
neck by an older woman--a chilly manager of whom I'd always
been slightly terrified--who dragged me into a stairwell.
``Never let them see you crying,'' she told me. ``They
don't know you're furious. They think you're sad and will be
pleased because they got to you.''
This political moment has provoked a period in which more
and more women have been in no mood to dress their fury up as
anything other than raw and burning rage.
Many women are yelling, shouting, using Sharpies to etch
sharply worded slogans onto protest signs, making furious
phone calls to representatives.
Many of the women shouting now are women who have not
previously yelled publicly before, many of them, white
middle-class women newly awakened to political fury and
protest.
Part of the process of becoming mad must be recognizing
that they are not the first to be furious, and that there is
much to learn from the stories and histories of the lived
women--many of them not white or middle class--who have never
had reason not to be mad.
If you are angry today, or if you have been angry for
awhile, and you're wondering whether you're allowed to be as
angry as you feel, let me say: Yes. Yes, you are allowed. You
are, in fact, compelled.
If you've been feeling a new rage at the flaws of this
country, and if your anger is making you want to change your
life in order to change the world, then I have something
incredibly important to say: Don't forget how this feels.
That is Rebecca Traister's article.
Traister ends her article by endorsing anger and telling women not to let go of it. She says:
What you're angry about now--injustice--will still exist,
even if you yourself are not experiencing it, or are tempted
to stop thinking about how you experience it, and how you
contribute to it.
Others are still experiencing it, still mad; some of them
are mad at you. Don't forget them; don't write off their
anger. Stay mad for them, alongside them, let them lead you
in anger.
That is what I am left with, Mr. President. Anger. Fury. Disgust. At a process that could not see the truth of what Dr. Ford tried to tell us.
The rewriters of truth are already at it. In column after column, on cable news shows across the country, and even here on the Senate floor, they are casting Judge Kavanaugh as the victim.
I was asked a few days ago whether the four Democratic women on the Judiciary Committee had a special responsibility to address the question of sexual assault. I reject the premise of that question. It is not just up to the women in this country to stand up. Men have to join us. They have to hold themselves and other men accountable. They have to push back against the fear that those with power feel when they are challenged. We saw some of the ways that this kind of fear operates just this week among some of my Senate colleagues.
When approached by survivors of sexual assault who waited to talk to them about the Kavanaugh nomination, they said things like ``Grow up,'' insinuating that the women sharing their painful, traumatic accounts were there to enjoy themselves. Enjoy themselves?
We saw the President of the United States sink to a level I didn't think possible. The mocker-in-chief mocked Dr. Ford, a survivor of sexual assault. He mocked her for not remembering some peripheral things about the attack. But the thing she said she was 100 percent sure of was that it was Brett Kavanaugh who attacked her.
In case some of my colleagues don't get it, sexual assault survivors often
don't remember how many steps, how many rooms, the kinds of things the President mocked Dr. Ford about. But they remember the attack itself with 100 percent accuracy. They remember how it felt, the fear, the laughter of the attackers.
The kinds of insults that have been hurled at Dr. Ford and others in her situation are cruel and unnecessary. I am left with anger and determination, just like millions of people across the country.
I will take Rebecca Traister's advice and commend it to the women of America and the men who understand their stories. I will stay mad and let that anger propel us to change. Going forward, I will continue to listen to women who have shared their stories. I will tell them that I hear them, I see them, and I want all of us to be the change that needs to happen in our country.
Before I yield the floor, I want to read a statement from Debbie Ramirez dated October 6, 2018. She says:
Thirty-five years ago, the other students in the room chose
to laugh and look the other way as sexual violence was
perpetrated on me by Brett Kavanaugh. As I watch many of the
Senators speak and vote on the floor of the Senate I feel
like I'm right back at Yale where half the room is laughing
and looking the other way. Only this time, instead of drunk
college kids, it is U.S. Senators who are deliberately
ignoring his behavior. This is how victims are isolated and
silenced.
But I do have corroborating witnesses speaking for me,
although they were not allowed to speak to the FBI, and I
feel extremely grateful for them and for the overwhelming
amount of support that I have received and continue to
receive during this extremely difficult and painful time.
There may be people with power who are looking the other way,
but there are millions more who are standing together,
speaking up about personal experiences of sexual violence and
taking action to support survivors. This is truly a
collective moment of survivors and allies standing together.
Thank you for hearing me, seeing me and believing me. I am
grateful for each and every one of you. We will not be
silenced.
We stand in truth and light, Debbie Ramirez.
I yield the floor.
Mr. President, yesterday, we heard our colleague from Maine express the hope that his ``nomination is where the process has finally hit rock bottom.'' On this, I agree. I hope we never again reach a place where women are as disrespected, ignored, and disregarded, as they have been throughout this confirmation process.
My colleague also observed that ``[w]e live in a time of such great disunity'' that ``people bear[ ] extreme ill will toward those who disagree with them.'' While that may be true for some, I think many of us who have strongly spoken out about our concerns about Judge Kavanaugh's nominations do not bear any ill will against those who disagree with us. In fact, being able to strongly disagree with others and voice our opinions without being told to ``grow up'' or called a ``loud mouth'' reflects a respect for the American values of democracy and respecting women. It is in that spirit, I would like to clarify several misunderstandings raised by my colleague.
As my colleague from Maine noted, she cares about protecting women's reproductive rights. Given this concern, I feel compelled to clarify her description of Judge Kavanaugh's record on
reproductive rights. She referenced, without naming, Judge Kavanaugh's dissenting opinion in favor of a religious organization, Priests for Life. In that case, he argued that religious employers could deny their women employees access to healthcare coverage of contraception because filling out a 2-page form was too burdensome for them.
Despite this conclusion, my colleague described Judge Kavanaugh's decision as ``seeking to ensure the availability of contraceptive services for women while minimizing the involvement of employers with religious objections.'' It is hard to see how blocking access to contraceptives for women by finding a 2-page form too burdensome is truly seeking to ensure access to contraceptives.
She claimed that his critics ``frequently overlook'' the fact that he wrote that ``Supreme Court precedent `strongly suggested' that there was a `compelling interest' in facilitating access to birth control.'' But that ignores the fact that regardless of this rhetoric, Judge Kavanaugh has consistently demonstrated hostility to women's reproductive rights, including in the very case that she referenced, Priests for Life v. Department of Health and Human Services. Moreover, if he is confirmed to the Supreme Court, Judge Kavanaugh can make clear to the entire country that facilitating access to contraceptives is not a compelling interest.
I am also very concerned that my colleague failed to mention the key case addressing Judge Kavanaugh's views on women's reproductive rights, Garza v. Hargan. In that case, a 17-year-old undocumented immigrant sought release from HHS custody to obtain an abortion. In his dissent, Judge Kavanaugh mischaracterized the case as one of ``parental consent'' case to reach his desired outcome, denying this young women access to her constitutional right to an abortion. Parental consent was not at issue at all in that case. The young woman had already received a proper judicial bypass from a Texas judge. That case is troubling not only because it shows Judge Kavanaugh's complete disregard for a woman's right to make her own decisions about the most intimate aspects of her life, but also because it reveals his willingness to misrepresent the law and facts to reach his partisan, desired outcome.
Although some of my colleagues have tried to hang their hat on Judge Kavanaugh's generic statements about his respect for precedent, even his own colleagues have criticized him for ignoring precedent, when expedient. In one case, United States v. Anthem, his colleagues in the majority sharply criticized his dissent, stating that their ``dissenting colleague applies the law as he wishes it were, not as it currently is.''
My colleague from Maine also noted Judge Kavanaugh's ``rave reviews . . . as a judge, including for his judicial temperament.'' She pointed to the fact that the American Bar Association's Standing Committee on the Federal Judiciary, ABA, ``concluded that `his integrity, judicial temperament, and professional confidence met the highest standard.' '' But I would be remiss if I didn't further note that the ABA informed the Judiciary Committee yesterday morning that it was reopening its evaluation of Judge Kavanaugh because of ``[n]ew information of a material nature regarding temperament during the September 27th hearing before the Senate Judiciary Committee.'' This new information includes Judge Kavanaugh's angry, partisan screed on September 27, when he accused Senators of ``orchestrat[ing] a political hit'' as ``revenge on behalf of the Clintons'' and ominously said, ``what goes around comes around.''
These statements, which were not mentioned by my colleague, directly contradict Judge Kavanaugh's statements of nonpartisanship that my colleague quoted in her remarks. But the most important clarification that I feel compelled to make is my colleague's discussion of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford's testimony. My colleague stated that she ``found [Dr. Ford's] testimony to be sincere, painful, and compelling.'' She also said that she ``believe[s] [Dr. Ford] is a survivor of a sexual assault and that this trauma has upended her life.''
But these statements of support were followed in the caveat, ``Nevertheless.'' ``Nevertheless,'' it was said, ``the four witnesses [Dr. Ford] named could not corroborate any of the events of the evening gathering where she said the assault occurred.'' My colleague raised questions about the fact that no one came forward from this small gathering in the summer of 1982 to say that they were at the party or that they gave Dr. Ford a ride home that night. Point by point, these statements sought to poke holes in Dr. Ford's testimony based on little details.
In the midst of the questions raised about these little details in Dr. Ford's testimony, the bottom line message was clear: Dr. Ford was not to be believed. She was mixed up, mistaken. By contrast, Judge Kavanaugh was to be believed because he ``forcefully denied the allegations under penalty of perjury.'' But there was no mention of the fact that Dr. Ford also testified until penalty of perjury and said she was ``100 percent'' certain it was Brett Kavanaugh who sexually assaulted her in the summer of 1982.
In contrast to the claim that there was a ``lack of corroborating evidence,'' there was significant corroborating evidence, as my colleagues have already entered into the Record. To highlight just a few, Dr. Ford's account was corroborated by Dr. Ford's therapist, results of a polygraph examination, and other witnesses who were told about Dr. Ford's account of her sexual assault, even before Judge Kavanaugh was nominated to the Supreme Court.
In contrast to my colleague's description of this process as a dysfunctional ``frenzy'' of special interest groups spreading ``outright falsehoods,'' I believe what we have heard over the past few weeks is democracy in action. Across America, women and men have been sharing their painful experiences of sexual assault and why it matters that someone who commits sexual assault should not be rewarded with a seat on the highest court in the land. They are saying character, credibility, candor, and temperament matter. Those are the American values we will be rejecting today, if Brett Kavanaugh is confirmed to the Supreme Court.