Speaking Truth to Power - Anita Hill [49]
Meanwhile, I tripped through my house along trails from the kitchen to my bedroom, the only two rooms that had not been overtaken by a renovation project that had begun in mid-June. I wondered how the enclosure of a deck outside could absorb so much of the space inside. Each day the workers left me a new coat of plaster dust, a final reminder that they had control of my space. It seemed impossible to find a place to work at home, though I kept trying: there was no work space in the galley kitchen; my bedroom was too small for a desk; and my study was cluttered with dining room furniture.
Though it was summer and classes were over, I had plenty of work to do. I had agreed to be the faculty representative in the office of the provost, a year-long assignment that involved splitting my time between the law school and the main campus. I was to teach as well as to work on special projects for the provost, including updating the faculty handbook. In addition, I was preparing for the American Bar Association annual meeting which was being held in Atlanta in August, and would feature events focusing on minority involvement. I had become active in the ABA Business Law Section, and in particular with the Uniform Commercial Code Committee. As chair of this committee’s membership subcommittee, I was organizing a reception for local attorneys who might consider joining us. Packing for my trip to the bar association meeting was a challenge. I had to find clothing that would accommodate my protruding stomach (the tumors had by now grown to the point that my waist was two sizes larger than my hips) and the heat and humidity of Atlanta in August.
Atlanta was the perfect site to encourage greater participation by African Americans in the ABA. There also seemed to be more white women than usual. I saw more former classmates and old friends than I had ever seen at an ABA meeting before. Events were well attended, and presentations were well received. Everywhere, conversation turned to Clarence Thomas, the first black man to be nominated to the Supreme Court since 1967. And everyone at the meeting seemed to take particular care in assessing his abilities. In accordance with its standard practice of reviewing the qualifications of judicial nominees, the ABA was considering its rating of Thomas.
After one session, I ran into a friend from law school, George Jones, who was one year ahead of me and one of the most thoughtful and analytical law students I knew. Jones believed that the Thomas nomination should not be challenged because he would serve the black community better than any of the potential white nominees. I found the nomination questionable because of Thomas’ lack of experience. I thought the black community would fare better challenging the nomination, even at the risk of a white replacement. The conversation left me disheartened. I knew that many in the black community would not want to “give up” Thurgood Marshall’s seat to a white justice, no matter what.
At the same session, I also ran into Carlton Stewart, who had been at the EEOC with me before he was transferred to the commission’s Atlanta office. Carlton was ecstatic about Thomas’ nomination. He and Earl Grayson, who was with him, both gushed their support for Clarence Thomas and mentioned scornfully that a local NAACP group had been censored by the national office for supporting him. I allowed that the nomination was a great opportunity for Thomas. Stewart and Grayson were two friends elated by their buddy’s personal success. Merit did not seem to enter into their response. After my conversation with Jones, I realized that it was senseless to argue the nomination with such diehards, and I changed the subject when a law student approached us to talk about teaching as a career. Later, at the hearing in October, Stewart and Grayson would claim that I said the nomination was “wonderful” and spoke of it