Talk about festering

A big old wound was reopened this past weekend. Nearly 20 years later, the wife of Clarence Thomas left Anita Hill a voicemail (classy) asking her to think about (and pray about) offering up an apology and explanation for the sexual harassment claims.

I don't know how many of you remember the history here . . . there are those in the media who would have you believe that Ms. Hill trumped up charges for her own 15 minutes. In reality, when she worked as a subordinate to Mr. Thomas, she quietly filed a sexual harassment claim with her employers. She didn't seek out the media spotlight . . . quite the opposite. Two different reporters discovered the grievance and sought out Ms Hill. And, since the hearings, with rare exception, Ms Hill has lived out of the spotlight.

However, the phone call currently in the spotlight was made to a university office phone line, at 7:30am, on a Saturday. Clearly, Mrs. Thomas didn't actually want to speak in person to Ms Hill. And, after all this time, Ms Hill believed the call to be a prank and/or someone acting in seriously bad taste. She notified campus police because this sort of harassment needs to be addressed immediately, not after it has escalated beyond a phone call. (Victim blaming gets ugly when such cases escalate and people demand to know why the victim didn't involve the authorities when the first call was made.)

I've had falling outs with friends. In my life, I've had dear dear friends become complete strangers to me as a result of clearly unacceptable behavior. Where as I am the sort to let my hurts fester long past any reasonable expectation, I am capable of walking away from someone once reason is no longer a part of the dialogue. I really really hope that I'm the sort of monkey that wouldn't be leaving bizarro voice mails nearly 20 years later.