Speaking Truth to Power - Anita Hill [58]
On Thursday, September 19, I telephoned Harriet Grant to clear up her misunderstanding about my intentions: “I do not want the matter abandoned. What I want is for the committee to have the information.” All along I had assumed that my name would be used in their investigation. I pressed Grant for information about my options. I wanted to know how the committee intended to proceed. Who would make the inquiries? Whom would they contact? How would the information be processed, and who would get it? None of these questions had been answered. They remained unanswered. “I cannot give you information about how your statement will be handled,” Grant said. “That is up to the committee.”
I was somewhat incredulous. The committee expected me to make a statement and to involve another person but would not give me any idea how, when, or even if they would use the information provided. It occurred to me that I bore all the responsibility and risk, and the committee none. Had I been thinking clearly, I probably would have abandoned the matter at that point. Instead I became more determined. I suspected that I would have been treated differently had I had political contacts, money, title, or any other indicia of power.
On Friday, September 20, after consulting with her supervisor, Grant informed me that if I proceeded, my charges would be given to the FBI to investigate. I said that I was willing to talk to the bureau but questioned Grant once again about what would happen under this proposed process. “The FBI will need to interview you and your corroborating witness. Then they will talk to Thomas and anyone he names.” Grant refused to say more. Instinctively, I was still skeptical about what might unfold, and I told Grant that I wanted to consider my options further before talking to the FBI. The entire matter confused me. I felt as though I had been drawn into a maze and left to find my way out alone.
In the meantime, I had contacted Susan Deller Ross, a professor at Georgetown Law Center and director of the school’s gender bias clinic. Jim Brudney had referred me to Ross as an expert in sex discrimination who was respected as such by members of the Senate. According to Brudney, Ross had testified before the Senate on a number of occasions and thus had some understanding of Senate procedure as well. In telephone conversations over the next few days, she listened to my story and explained to me the current status of sexual harassment law. She and Brudney were the first persons to whom I had given a detailed description of the events of 1981 and 1982. Even when I confided in friends years earlier, I had not given them the graphic details of Thomas’ lewd remarks. I was grateful for the contact with her. Unlike the committee staffers, she seemed to care about my welfare. Just when I was beginning to doubt that my experience mattered, she reassured me that in her professional opinion it did.
Between September 18 and September 20, Sue Ross and I struggled with how to proceed. Neither of us expressed any malice or desire for vindication over Clarence Thomas. Our focus was merely on the obstacles the Senate seemed to be raising to hinder me from coming forward.
On September 22 I called Ross to discuss Grant’s suggestion that the committee would bring in the FBI to handle the investigation. I did not know whether the FBI had any experience in investigating this type of charge. Sue Ross and I were both skeptical about how an agent might hear and present the information. Perceptions of the injury of sexually harassing behavior vary from individual to individual. Between males as a group and females as a group, definitions of harassment vary widely. Whether an FBI agent could report the behavior as I had experienced it concerned Ross as much as it did me. She suggested that I prepare a written statement to be sent to the committee, relating