Why Susan Collins and Women Like Her, Will Forever Be The Activated Trigger For Abuse Victims
There’s really no adequate way to sum up the whirlwind of emotions that have persistently engaged me in the mental exercise of fighting for survival under the duress of a brutally hostile climate.
It all began almost year ago, as awards season was on the horizon and Hollywood was embroiled in the early stages of ceremonious visibility for high-profile victims of abuse, who had endured unwanted advances and outright assault from the industry’s most influential power players — who assumed that the long endorsed practice of systemic abuse would forever remain unchallenged.
But literally overnight, heavyweights like Harvey Weinstein, and other men of higher standing, were dropping like flies, as damning public testimonies from women who had spent their lives in the darkness of shame and defeat, exposed the open secret of how sexual harassment had become the preferred currency of transaction for well-positioned predators — who were callously unapologetic.
It’s not like we didn’t suspect that eventually, slimy movie directors, producers, and media personalities were capable of engaging in nefarious operations that would result in vile coercion and the irrevocably broken spirits of targeted victims — but the never-ending daily reveals through graphically rendered op-eds began to take the necessary toll on the general public.
And once the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements came into focus, there was the emphatic encouragement for survivors of abuse to escape their shell of fear by bonding with others in the same realm for the sake of mandated solidarity.
During this time, my mood was shaken by an erratic frequency, as I harbored quiet rage at the vulnerability of being assaulted at an age when such a thing is considered blasphemous, and then having it happen all over again — each time the late afternoon confessions littered my timeline.
There was the frustration that for those of us who weren’t at all ready to join the roster of brave souls who were exchanging tales of horror to activate their #MeToo status — we would have to try to survive the dangerously triggering forces that were too over-powering to hide from — because the option of halting social engagements wasn’t a realistic option.
There were moments of validity that almost helped to soothe the lifelong arthritis of the mind, given the fact that I had no choice but to resurrect the past, after spending decades in defiant denial, because that was the only way to willingly stay above ground.
But once the movements initiated by mostly White A-listers became the rallying cry for White women, who’ve perfected the art of capturing the narrative of all our lives, and somehow condensing it for their personalized agendas — all bets were off.
Despite Tarana Burke’s affecting backstory that helped spurn the genesis of the #MeToo movement, actress Alyssa Milano ended up being the anointed mouthpiece that was duly recognized because her Whiteness gave her that privilege.
The frustration from that observation also threw me further into the well of emotional chaos, as I recalled the period that I’ve tried my hardest to forget, but due to circumstance beyond my control, it kept resurfacing.
It was when I was stuck at the all-girls, two-year college in the middle of nowhere, as a freshman who happened to be one of only three Black girls in an all-White haven. I was miserable as fuck and my grades reflected my inability to function in an environment that wasn’t conducive to my needs.
I was also being terrorized by the memories of my harrowing ordeal as a child, when everything changed and I was tasked with the cumbersome burden that was way more than anyone should ever bear. I had confided in a schoolmate who was sort of a friend, and she recommended that I speak to the school counselor.
Despite my reservations and the intense discomfort at the realization that I would be revealing the details of my abuse for the very first time— I decided to gamble on the hope that my life could actually be returned to me.
The gamble didn’t pay off.
The session with the White woman with the frigid breath and hardened disposition dealt a fatal blow to my already fragile state, as she watched me describe my pain with casual curiosity. It was almost as if she was entertaining my need to confess something that was just as much my fault as the person who ruined me.
The details are vague, but I remember being nauseated at the audacity of this woman who showed no mercy or empathy, but instead proceeded to glaze over and downplay my pain — as if I were overreacting to something that didn’t have enough evidence to derail my overall progression.
It’s a miracle I emerged from that episode intact, and I basically vowed to never again seek the guidance of so-called professionals, who are experts at choosing which pain matters based on their personal biases.
And that brings me to the present nightmare, featuring a woman who couldn’t bear the thought of her assailant’s rise to a station that would award the level of authority that compromises the emotional turmoil that this man exacted without consequences.
Christine Blasey Ford was scared as hit to step into the arena of inescapable scrutiny, and despite being briefed about the risks involved in trying to demonize a privileged White male by holding him accountable for a crime that he will never admit committing — Blasey Ford chose her freedom over the tradition of coddling the most valued currency in America.
Her gamble didn’t pay off. And back in 1991, it also didn’t pay off for Anita Hill
Brett Kavanaugh received the votes he needed to confirm him as the nation’s Supreme Court Justice, even after his shameful display of frat boy antics, that showcased his inability to maintain his cool while navigating the choppy currents of discord.
Turns out that enough White women like Maine Republican Sen. Susan Collins who claims the falsehood of being a “moderate,” and White House staple, Kellyanne Conway — are turned on by the tearful pleas of an over-indulged coward, who learned from the best when he decided to bully his way to victory.
Conway and bestie, White House press secretary, Sarah Sanders, never hid their displeasure at witnessing the crucification of a distinguished White male, who was too dignified and pure for the curse of being held accountable for something that he may have done, because those allegations weren’t relevant enough to warrant the demise of his illustrious career.
According to Conway, who was asked to respond to Kavanaugh’s big win:
“A lot of women, including me, in America, looked up and saw a man who was…a political character assassination.” “And also, we looked up and saw in him possibly our husbands, our sons, our cousins, our co-workers, our brothers.”
The biggest disappointment to those who wrongly placed their bets on a woman who was never going to deviate from the rulebook of oppression — Susan Collins — spent almost an hour reciting the jargon she memorized from the night before — that contained all the ingredients for a lifetime of triggers.
I’m not sure if I hate her, or if I hate what she’s done to me and all the others, who tried in vain to express our truth, and got shut down by the cruelty of women who preferred to numb our handicap with scholarly assessments — that ultimately distort an already chaotic disposition that brilliantly keeps the truth far from permanent harm.
Collins is quite distanced from the mechanisms that propel victims of abuse, who are indefinitely tortured by the visions of their attackers, and this horror clip makes it absolutely impossible for us to forget the face and smell of our violators.
When Blasey Ford said she was 100% certain that Brett Kavanaugh was the one who attempted to rape her — she wasn’t exaggerating, and she certainly didn’t pick the wrong guy from the line up.
He did it. He’s guilty.
And the explanation from Collins after she voted for a White man who was White enough for her national betrayal, is both tragic and disarmingly anti-womanhood.
“I found Ford to be heart-wrenching and compelling.” “I don’t believe Kavanaugh was her assailant.” “When [Kavanaugh] came back with a forceful denial, the anger and anguish he showed, and then the lack of corroboration, led me back to the fundamental issues to our legal system.”
Kavanaugh’s “forceful denial” and “anger and anguish” were the survival instincts that designate the accused to throw a tantrum that’s supposed to give his supporters permission to protect his lies — at all costs.
Collins played the role that she chose to embody, and whether she accepts it or not, women like her will forever be the activated triggers for abuse victims like me — who take a chance and hope for the best — but end up with the very worst.
While acknowledging the “heart-wrenching and compelling” testimony of an abuse victim, she aligned herself with a man who angrily pushed back against a system that he was taught to honor and respect. His abominable actions only intensified his guilt, and the ones who were blinded by his fake tears are co-conspirators in this very messy saga.
It’s beyond painful to relive the scenes that depict what I’m determined to insulate until my last breath frees me — and the sensors are particularly heightened by the traitorous vibes of White feminism and how this brand of sisterhood is dangerously instituted under the banner of White supremacy.
A White woman made me feel like shit for dampening her day with my pathetic memories of indescribable loss, and I still remember exactly what she looked like and how I felt when she stared back at me.
And now Christine Blasey Ford has to find a way to recover from the agony of defeat at the hands of the women who were supposed to fight for her, but chose the White man who represents the White males in their midst.
The messaging is a deadly one.
Many lives will be lost as a result of the summation of how you can be wrecked beyond repair if you dare divulge your truth with the belief that you will be compensated with long-awaited justice.
Anita Hill had to live with her national humiliation and reactivated abuse and now Christine Blasey Ford joins this punishing legacy.
More of us want to be released from bondage, but the cost is now way more than we can afford — and all it takes are the words that kill.