Speaking Truth to Power - Anita Hill [157]
Finally, I did not campaign because I knew I would be no good at it. I am not a rousing speaker. I do not respond to the thrill of the crowd by elevating my rhetoric. I am slow, methodical, and lack charisma. My message is about changing our way of thinking about women and abuses of power, a message not easily conveyed in a rally—where people are often urged to act, not think. Though I was intent on being heard, especially during the period immediately prior to the election, I could not bring myself to campaign. Only a few campaign workers took offense at my decision, but by that time I had learned to say no with far less regret. Brown himself was quite gracious when I declined his request.
I watched the Democratic National Convention on television. Alone at my home in Norman, I listened to Barbara Mikulski declare that “never again will a woman coming forward to tell her story” be treated as I was. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I faced the fact again of the involvement of elected officials in what had happened to me. I cried out of my own sadness and my own hope. In August 1992, as Senator Mikulski spoke and introduced the female candidates for the Senate, for the first time in months I believed that change was possible—that no other woman would have to face the public spectacle I underwent. Part of me wanted to be there and knew if Senator Mikulski had asked I probably would have gone.
My name was invoked several times over the course of the convention. One occasion made me swell with pride and at the same time made me laugh out loud. During the roll call, Governor Walters of Oklahoma introduced his state as the home of Will Rogers and Anita Hill. Say what you will about the state and its politics, I had always been proud of being an Oklahoman and this recognition added to that. Moreover, at the convention it served Oklahoma’s delegation well, as the crowd responded loudly. Back home in Oklahoma, Walters took a good deal of heat for the declaration but did not back down from it.
Part of me, a larger part, was glad that I was not there. Part of me knows that my specter was just as effective as my physical presence would have been. I have no regrets about being a part of the energy that got people involved. I was pleased that the party no longer ran away from me as it had during the hearing, but I was aware that, for some of the partisans, the party’s embrace was just as political as its earlier abandonment had been.
After the election, I admitted to myself that I would have been afraid to live in the country if George Bush had been reelected. Any vote for him indicated to me that the White House role in the hearing and the denigration of a private citizen were proper. Moreover, I did not feel safe against further efforts to come up with false information to discredit me. I feared the FBI might again be improperly enlisted in that role. In August 1992 I addressed the Canadian Bar Association at their meeting in Nova Scotia. There some individuals spoke with me about taking a possible position with a Canadian law school. I liked the community and the people and seriously considered it as an alternative, depending on the outcome of the election. I never really pursued it and am glad that I never had to make the choice to become an expatriate. I was disappointed that the majority of the electorate in Oklahoma voted for George Bush. Yet I was thrilled that my home county of Okmulgee voted Democrat. It was a small victory but affirmed my belief in the people there.
My primary concern was the involvement of women in the defeat of George Bush. Still, Bill Clinton’s election was a victory in itself. I watched the election returns at the home of a Republican friend who was voting Democratic for the first time in his life. His further contribution to George Bush