Speaking Truth to Power - Anita Hill [100]
October 8, 1991
Dear Ms. Hill,
I am a black female attorney serving as an attorney adviser in a small federal agency. I know very well the inner workings of the legal profession and government.
I am writing because when I heard your story it made me weep. It brought back to me so vividly my past experiences with both racial and sexual harassment. It also reminded me of the experiences that my black female law school classmates as well as my white co-workers have related to me over the years.
(I just wanted you to know that you have my support and prayers.) I know the fear and the pain you had to bear when you experienced the harassment. I know you felt a profound disappointment when it was a black man in a high government position who victimized you. During the time we entered the legal profession, black women (Ivy League degree or no Ivy League degree) without “contacts” had little or no options. “Blackballing” is a very real threat in this profession.
I want you to know that you are brave. I want you to know that during this troublesome period, when in need, call upon the strength of all those black women that never had “opportunity.” You will never be alone.
The writer and I shared more than just race and profession. We shared a common experience and understanding. As I took solace in finding a comrade, I was reminded of the differences between myself and my experiences and the panel I had appeared before that day. It was a gap that no amount of education or salary would ever erase. It was a gap that had little to do with party politics and everything to do with gender and racial politics. The real-world dynamics of harassment and racial community escaped those officials. Senator Hatch had suggested that as an attorney one should be able to tolerate harassment, and that a woman with an Ivy League degree would be well insulated from retaliation for complaining about harassment. But both the letter writer and I knew differently from our own experiences. None of the senators seemed to have a clue about how Clarence Thomas’ race amplified my sense of victimization, making both the experience itself and the prospect of complaining about it more difficult. But in just a brief passage this woman had articulated what would have taken me volumes to explain. And when I read that letter, I knew that someone understood.
When my testimony ended, the Republican senators’ campaign against me escalated, and the fact that the hearing was more about media control than Thomas’ qualifications to serve on the Court came through clearly as the day came to an end. Judge Thomas’ handlers had insisted not only that he be the first to testify on Friday morning but that he also be the last to testify on Friday evening as well. When Biden originally announced his plan to end the day with my testimony, Kenneth Duberstein threatened that Thomas would hold a press conference in front of the hearing room doors and claim that he had been denied the opportunity to defend himself. Biden therefore capitulated, never offering me the opportunity to respond in like manner. And so at 9:00 prime-time Friday night, Thomas took the stand as millions watched.
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