Lips shut, taped up, with no way to communicate except through my gaze. As my gaze wandered, I felt it. The pain, the helplessness, the frustration, the misery in your gaze. Our hearts broken, with a mourning soul. There was no way to verbally communicate my empathy. I stood there, hoping that through my gaze, through my hurting yet caring gaze, you’d feel seen, cared for, and loved. Kavanaugh had been confirmed and all I could do was stand there, alongside other survivors and patriots on the steps of the Supreme Court in solidarity with you.
“I love you! I believe you! I see your strength!”, I wanted to scream it all. But just as I had been silenced through my experience as a survivor, like many of us, I could not communicate it. Instead, I continued to have my gaze meet yours. Oh, the souls I saw. Even with tears streaming down your face, even with wide, frightened eyes, I saw it. I saw your strength! I saw your passion, your persistence, your glorious power! You are a lovely badass! I wanted to scream it. Instead, I stood there, warning after warning; alongside many other survivors, many other patriots. We wanted you to see that we cared. We care about you, about us, about our country.
“This is your last warning, you will be in jail until Tuesday. We are serious.” The Supreme Court Police walked by, recording us, repeating that phrase over and over again. “We are serious”. Well so are we, I thought. As they walked I tried time after time to meet their gaze, but they refused. Cowards, I thought. Time after time, I thought to myself, going to jail will not be so bad because I will leave knowing that you felt seen, that you saw that we cared. The police let us go, we were free of charges, and we walked off the steps repeating, ”I believe that we have power”. We did, we see your power. Even though the pain, the fear, the sadness. We see it. And we hope that you see it too.
In the midst of the mourning, the sorrow, a brave soul took the first step. Sister Leona, a performance artist from New York whose work focuses on resisting the sexualization of the female body, ran up the steps, shirtless and fearless. With her eyesight clouded by tears and raging anger, she screamed, “FUCK THIS, FUCK THIS, FUCK THIS.” She was arrested, but she did what she thought was right. The crowd followed, reclaiming our courts, our voices, our bodies. After a few warnings the hundreds left, but three were left standing. Kim Harlow, Rosemary Qeseem, and I. We put on our veils and taped back our lips. We linked arms and refused to come down from the top of the steps of the Supreme Court, accepting the consequences.
I looked down at all of you; and again, I felt it, the burning question you were asking. “Will my story be heard?” Yes! I wanted to scream! You matter and I heard you, I believe you, I love you! But how could I communicate that to such a large crowd? There it was; if Brett Kavanaugh was allowed to stand on the Supreme Court, so was I. I represented you. I held every survivor’s story within me. A platform for our voices, our stories, our pain, our strength. Not just mine, but yours. Because this was not so much of an act of internal courage, but of collective stories, your stories. We’ve heard the statistics, every 98 seconds an American is sexually assaulted. I was standing there with every single one of those stories included.
Of course, I stand in solidarity with Dr. Ford and I honor her strength. I stand with survivors of all backgrounds, from the most privileged to the most marginalized. However, I want to make it clear that as I stood there I was also honoring your strength and resilience. You, who have often been further ignored and forced into the shadows. Community. You, my African American sisters, who have a long history of being sexually assaulted during and post-slavery; you my indigenous sisters, who are constantly assaulted due to the history of colonization; you my sisters who are sex workers, whose stories are brushed away; you my trans sisters, my queer sisters, my disabled sisters; and you my immigrant sisters whose assault stands in the shadows. This is not just about my story as a survivor but about yours too. A reminder that there is a platform for you because you matter, you are strong, and I care. Even if you have not had the privileges or resources to share it, I stood there representing your strength, your power. Because if Kavanaugh, if Thomas is allowed here, we sure as hell are too. We have created a safer platform to bring up these conversations. A greater acknowledgment of the problem is a victory for us. We cannot be silenced. From civic engagement to grassroots organizing, and policy advocacy, we will not be silenced. This is not over.