Before I go any further, I want to make two things crystal clear. One, any reasonably objective analysis of the career of Joseph R. Biden would lead to an unmistakable conclusion that the man has boundary issues. Even if you allow for the generational gap argument that his apologists keep making, there's still no justification for his, how shall I put it, handsy approach to women colleagues. The man doles out bear hugs and neck rubs the way I take in breaths of air. It's simply unacceptable and it would've been just as unacceptable 40 years ago. That he's finally, hopefully, come to grips with that is reassuring, given that he's going to be the Democratic nominee in about four months.
Two, it cannot be overstated enough that there is no such thing as a cookie-cutter sexual assault. Every single one is unique with its own set of circumstances. What might be true for one person, might not be true for another. As someone who was the victim of incest, I can attest to that. My therapist spent a considerable amount of time reminding me that my journey was my own and no one else's. Having said that, I have some profound issues regarding the allegations of rape that Alexandra Tara Reade has brought against Biden.
First, the timing stinks. Reade made her recent allegations of sexual assault right around the time Bernie Sanders was suspending his campaign. In the criminal complaint she filed against Biden she said that while working for him as an aide in 1993, Biden pinned her against the wall, lifted up her shirt and penetrated her with his finger.
Yet back in April, 2019, when Biden got into the race and a number of women came forward to accuse him of touching them inappropriately. Reade failed to mention anything about the assault. Instead, this is what she said: "He used to put his hand on my shoulder and run his finger up my neck. I would just kind of freeze and wait for him to stop doing that."
Why didn't Reade take that opportunity to divulge the assault? That certainly would've been a game changer, and it most likely would've ended Biden's campaign before it ever got off the ground. In an interview Reade gave she explained her reasoning this way: "I wanted to share the whole thing, but at the same time I was too scared. I just wasn’t quite ready." One could certainly understand Reade's reticence to file a formal complaint against Biden at the time of the assault, but to not even bring it up 26 years later is a red flag, especially given that she had the presence of mind to tell her brother the exact details of the attack. At the very least, it calls into question her motives.
Second, Reade's story is atypical of most sex abuse victims. To reiterate, while all victims' stories are unique, there are certain similarities that join them at the hip. For starters, there is a reluctance to come forward. Almost all victims of sexual assault recoil from the spotlight. There's a sense of shame that permeates their being, as if somehow they are to blame for the assault. If you recall, Christine Blasey Ford wanted to remain anonymous but was outed by The New York Times before finally being forced to tell her story. Even then, Ford was a reluctant witness in the Brett Kavanaugh hearings. By comparison, Reade seems all too eager for a fight, even going so far as to threaten anyone who publicly doubted her claims. She sounds less like a victim and more like an avenging angel.
Speaking of comparisons between Ford and Reade, it's worth noting that Ford first revealed what happened to her in a couple's therapy session some forty years after the assault took place. She had so thoroughly suppressed the memory of what had happened to her that she was unable to recall details like the exact year it took place, but was able to remember Kavanaugh groping her and grinding his body next to hers. This is consistent with other victims of sexual assault who cannot remember certain details. To this day, I cannot remember the precise month or day that my mother abused me - I supposed it was 1979, because the song "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor was playing on the radio. However, I do vividly recall her pulling me towards her and feeling her hands going up and down my back as we danced intimately to the song.
Like Ford, I first revealed what happened to me decades later and it took a year or more of therapy before I was finally able to stop blaming myself. I told no one of the incident - not my sister, certainly not my father, nor any of my friends - because I blotted it from my memory. Even when I got sober and did my Fourth Step inventory with my sponsor, I still didn't reveal it. As far as my psyche was concerned, that day never existed. A Law and Order episode about an incestuous relationship between a mother and her son proved to be the trigger that unlocked the gruesome memory. Suddenly, I was face to face with an ugly truth about my mother; a truth no son ever wants to admit about his mother.
Everything regarding Reade's recollection about what happened to her sounds more like a witness prepping to give testimony rather than the recollection of a traumatic event. It's almost a little too precise for my tastes. She remembers everything from what she was wearing, to the gym bag she was carrying, to where they met - the Russell Senate Office Building, which was a public place where others could've possibly observed what was going on. As Cathy Young adroitly pointed out in her piece in ArcDigital Media, "Morality aside, for a senator to sexually assault a staffer in a location with a nontrivial risk of discovery would require a credulity-stretching degree of recklessness."
Look, I am not saying it didn't happen; maybe it did. But it's also possible it didn't and Reade is making it up. There are just too many red flags to ignore here: from the timing of her allegation, to her "detailed" description of what happened, to her punting in 2019 when the opportunity presented itself, and we haven't even touched on her tweets praising Vladimir Putin, which at the very least call into question her judgment.
The point is I believed Christine Blasey Ford when she came forward, not because she was testifying against a conservative judge that was being nominated by Donald Trump, but because her story was credible and fit a pattern of many sexual assault victims. Conversely, I do not believe Alexandra Tara Reade, not because she has accused the man who could potentially beat the most corrupt and incompetent human being ever to occupy the Oval Office, but because her story isn't credible.
Comments