The question isn’t if we have to believe somebody, it’s who we’ll choose to believe

I’m going to admit something I don’t want to admit: I rarely say, “I believe her,” in the minutes, hours, days, and sometimes weeks after a woman accuses a man of sexual assault.

I want to say, “I believe her” — quickly, wholeheartedly, unequivocally. My impulse, my instinct is to say I believe.

But there’s a part of me — a small but significant part — that says, “But you don’t know for sure, do you? What if you join the chorus of people saying, ‘I believe her,’ only to find out that you were wrong? What if in your rush to support and defend a survivor you inadvertently set the movement back? What if you make it harder for survivors to come forward — or even cope?”

I do quickly say, “Investigate!” “Assume she’s telling the truth until proven otherwise!” But I stop short of, “I believe her,” especially at first.

I’m not proud of it. I’m conflicted by it, ashamed of it.

On the one hand, yes, generally speaking, on the most theoretical of levels, I want to defend the idea of innocent until proven guilty, if only because our straight, cisgender, white male dominated justice system so often treats women, people of color, queer people, poor people, and other minority and marginalized groups as though they are guilty until proven innocent. That’s wrong and has to stop, and I hate the idea of feeding into it just because the tables are turned and the accusations are against people I disdain and mistrust.

On the other hand, I firmly believe that this “question the accuser” mentality exists in me because I’m a man. That’s the gender they assigned me at birth. That’s how they raised me. That’s how I see myself today. Being a man shields me from the gender-based violence so many women experience or fear throughout their lives. I simply don’t and can’t have that experience. And lacking it — or even the threat of it — quite literally makes it easier for my brain to question an accuser. I know because the experience I do have — as a gay man — leads me to believe, pretty quickly, anytime another gay friend says they were gawked at, harassed, or threatened because they’re gay. Because I’ve seen it and felt it — the electricity down my spine when I can sense that someone’s animus towards me is driven by homophobia — it’s much easier for me to believe another gay person when they say they had that experience. But lacking that when it comes to gender-based sexual violence, I just know that’s part of what keeps me from fully embracing, “I believe her,” as soon as the accusations are made.

So, I say what I feel comfortable saying: “Investigate!” “Assumes she’s telling the truth until proven otherwise!” And I sit with the dissonance of wanting to go further, to say, “I believe her!” without a doubt or concern, and not really getting to that place.

But as I’ve been thinking about Dr. Ford’s allegations against Brett Kavanaugh, and how important it is to strongly and publicly support her as she decides to what extent she’s willing to drag herself through hell for us to believe her, the cold, hard truth of situations like this smacks me in the face:

The question isn’t if we have to believe somebody, it’s who we’ll choose to believe.

Brett Kavanaugh is trying to secure a lifetime appointment to the Supreme Court — a court so powerful it can forever change millions of lives. A court that can declare corporations are people and let them flood our elections with money. A court that can also recognize rights we knew we had but weren’t officially granted. A court that can also strip away rights — like the right to abortion — imperiling the freedom and health of millions and millions of women.

Brett Kavanaugh wants to make those monumental and binding decisions that will affect our lives, for the rest of his life. How we act in the days ahead could determine whether he will get that power.

And right now, the main thing standing between him and that lifetime appointment is whether we believe a woman who’s risking her privacy, mental health, career — maybe even her safety — to come forward and say this man attacked me.

Do I wish there was some way to unequivocally answer the question, “Did he do it?” Of course. Who doesn’t want that? It would be ludicrous not to want that. All anyone wants is for justice to be served. If there wasn’t an attack, there’s no need for justice.

But unequivocally answering questions about what happened in the past is rarely possible, and we rarely require it to determine whether someone is guilty of a crime — or even likely guilty enough to treat them as a criminal even if we can’t prosecute them under the strictures of the law.

I’m not a lawyer, but a cursory reading of Maryland’s sexual assault laws makes it seem pretty likely the statue of limitations for both civil suits and criminal charges for this attack have run out. Which is to say that even if Kavanaugh admits to the attack, he likely won’t face serious legal ramifications (except, perhaps, if he lies under oath about it). He’d face the shame and derision he deserves, and hopefully his career and certainly his public life would be over — but in my eyes that would be just fine.

We aren’t likely going to get a confession from Kavanaugh though, are we? And unless some completely unexpected evidence or corroboration comes out, we aren’t likely going to know for sure what did or didn’t happen.

But we have to believe somebody — because our senators are quickly trying to decide how many of us believe him and how many believe her. How many of us buy the Republican attack line that Dr. Ford is making all this up — at great personal and professional risk? How many of us trust the woman who came forward?

“Why can’t I just not be sure?”

Because if Brett Kavanaugh trapped, molested, silenced, and tried to rape Dr. Ford, he shouldn’t get to interpret the laws of this country for the 325 million of us who live here. Because the status quo says, “If she can’t prove it, we believe him, and his life will go on as though we unequivocally believe him.”

There’s no neutral here because one person wants a position of authority that impacts every single one of us in immeasurable ways. And he’ll get to do that if enough of us choose to deny and demean Dr. Ford or simply refuse to say, “I believe her.” Refusing to choose is choosing Kavanaugh — his side, his dreams, his ambitions.

Like most people, I’d rather not have to choose anything I don’t feel 100 percent confident about. But like so many people, I don’t feel I deserve the luxury of simply not choosing because I can afford not to choose.

The story will be told:

Americans believed Brett Kavanaugh, or Americans believed Dr. Ford.

Choosing not to choose means you choose Brett Kavanaugh, because the default is patriarchy. And patriarchy desperately wants to put Brett Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court. Patriarchy desperately wants for what he did to not count as violence. Patriarchy wants to protect what it’s already done to women and what it will continue to do to women, if we let it go on.

So, believe Dr. Ford, and if it turns out we’re wrong, it will be a blip on the map of all the women who tell the truth and are denied justice.

The worst case scenario is this: A man who grew up with all the advantages in life and had an illustrious career — a career spent trying to take away rights from others — won’t get the privilege of serving on the Supreme Court. A man who just three years ago said, “What happens at Georgetown Prep stays at Georgetown Prep. I think that’s been a good thing for all of us.”

I can think of worse bets.