Speaking Truth to Power (12 page)

Among other assignments, I was asked to review the EEOC’s position on sexual harassment shortly after we arrived at the agency. The EEOC is the government’s enforcement agency for claims of sexual harassment in the workplace as a part of its antidiscrimination enforcement responsibilities. Individuals who felt that they were victims of an employer discrimination would file claims with the EEOC. Agency officials investigated the complaints and made recommendations about whether the complaint stated a cause of action under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act.

The administration’s rhetoric called for lessening employer responsibility in cases of harassment probably on the assumption that the behavior was private behavior or that it was not harmful to the victim. Whatever the reason, the pursuit was consistent with a pro-business philosophy of the administration. Acutely aware of that goal, I felt as though I had been dipped in a vat of scalding water as I read over the policies and cases pursued by the agency. I was flooded with embarrassment at my own experience. Still, it never entered the discussion as I reviewed my conclusions with Clarence Thomas. I knew then that I would not work for him for much longer, not because of anything that was happening at the time, but rather because of the aftershocks of what had happened in the past.

After studying the issues, I recommended that the EEOC continue its policies, which stated that employers were liable when supervisors sexually harassed employees or when they failed to respond to coworker harassment that was known to them. Imposing employer liability was an effective means of addressing the problem of harassment. When I presented my findings to him, Thomas grumbled and muttered something
to himself. And though I could tell that he would have rather not, he accepted the recommendation nevertheless. What I did not know until years later was that Thomas was part of the administration’s transition team which had recommended the change in policy to reduce the burden an employer bore for supervisors who harassed their workers.

T
urmoil at the Education Department continued. In July 1982 Harry M. Singleton was named to succeed Thomas as assistant secretary for civil rights. Harry Singleton, a friend of Thomas’ from law school, was another black conservative who surfaced in Washington during this period. In October
The Washington Post
reported that an internal department report had recommended major personnel cuts in programs that primarily benefited minority and disadvantaged children. The report provoked charges that the Reagan administration planned to use layoffs and budget cuts to get rid of programs that a Congress more sympathetic to civil rights refused to eliminate. In April 1983 Singleton announced a new “loyalty” requirement in the Office for Civil Rights, adding to the sense of uneasiness in the agency. These changes stipulated that all personnel must receive a “critical sensitive” clearance requiring a background check and sign a waiver of privacy for medical records. The theory was that if they carefully screened for sympathy to liberal policies, they could quash disagreement and rid the agency of anyone who might leak material to the press. Some speculated that the new requirement was intended to uncover employees who had leaked information critical of the administration’s civil rights policy. Rumors about the abolition of the department, layoffs, and programmatic cutbacks continued throughout 1983 and 1984. I was relieved to be away from it.

With the benefit of hindsight, I see that I might have responded differently regarding my own circumstance. Yet, even armed with information about agency policy, I did not pursue a charge of sexual harassment against Clarence Thomas. At the time, the case results were mixed. Some federal judges in the 1970s expressed outright skepticism about the cause of action, describing harassment as purely personal behavior. Others
accepted it reluctantly. It was not until 1986 that the Supreme Court declared that sexual harassment was sex discrimination. In view of the administration’s behind-the-scenes resistance to the concept, I saw little hope of having my charge addressed. Nor was it clear how I could raise such a claim, given that I worked for the head of the chief enforcement agency.

Though they were much maligned in Congress and by the Office of Management and Budget, I found the career people at the agency were its greatest asset. I developed a sincere appreciation and respect for what they accomplished in their efforts to combat discrimination, notwithstanding the pervasive criticism of their work. Nevertheless, the chair’s office never worked as a cohesive unit, where there was very little leadership exercised. Other factors played in as well, not the least of which was the continual political pressure to change the agency’s longtime civil rights policies. My desk was always covered with work. A completed project was quickly followed by one or two new ones. It was not the work I had hoped for, but it was worthwhile, and presented me with a chance to gain substantive legal knowledge.

As fall turned to winter, Thomas once again began to make sexual comments and innuendos, as well as remarks about my hair, dress, legs, and figure. At first I was surprised. I had believed that was in the past. Once again, my negative responses did not stop him. I became completely unnerved about the behavior. My stomach began to tie in knots at the thought of going to work each day. As I disclosed to the Judiciary Committee:

Thomas never issued ultimatums, but I knew that without some capitulation to his comments or acquiescence to his right to make them, he would have no use for me in his office. He never spelled the message out in words, but it was clear from his tone and his actions. Though he had not expressed any dissatisfaction with my work, he began to give significant assignments to others. When he was not being suggestive, he was being gruff or difficult. He complained whenever I asked him to approve or sign off on a project. He stopped promising me that I would one day work on special projects. Though I detested the task, I even did some speech writing for him, with limited success. I hated doing the work and I was not any good at it.

The pressures of working in an intensely political environment I could withstand. They were part and parcel of the Washington experience. In fact, I saw them as instructive challenges. But the sexual undertones and overtones on the job were now more than I felt I should have to contend with. One night in January 1983 I went to the hospital emergency room with severe stomach pains. Sonia was asleep, and I left her a note to explain. My doctor ultimately concluded that the pain was stress-related. None of the other likely causes checked out. Immediately after the Sunday hospital stay, I began to look for another job.

Almost by chance, I was asked to interview for a position at the O. W. Coburn School of Law at Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, not far from where I grew up and where my parents still lived. The request to interview for the job came during a trip I made to the university to give a presentation on the agency’s enforcement areas. Thomas had taken me and Bill Ng, an attorney and another of his assistants, who did part of the
presentation as well. I still recall that on that fateful trip to Oklahoma Thomas had wanted me to sit with him in the rear of the airplane. I told him I preferred to sit up front because the smoking allowed in the rear in those days bothered my allergies. Of course that was only partly true. I could not bear to spend any kind of time in such close proximity to him.

My interview at Oral Roberts went well. After it was over, the dean of the law school, Charles Kothe, told me all that was left was to check my references. Kothe was clear: he made the decisions at the law school, and the job was mine if I wanted to accept it. I had not planned to return to Oklahoma; I had not planned to go into teaching. I would leave behind me in Washington a budding relationship with a young surgical resident for whom I cared very deeply. But the opportunity to leave the employ of Clarence Thomas and to be nearer my family was most compelling.

I had my misgivings about the law school at Oral Roberts. In an effort to attain accreditation, the school had gone through one lawsuit against the American Bar Association and another lawsuit was a possibility because the school was only provisionally accredited. Without full accreditation, the school would likely close. I gave some thought to the conservative ideology of the school, but having just come from the Reagan administration, I felt prepared to deal with conservatives. Moreover, Oral Roberts was not as engaged in political activities as were his counterparts, Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell. The religious aspect of the school did not dissuade me either. I had grown up in a religious home, was well grounded in my beliefs, and had no sense that they would interfere with my duties or vice versa. I decided to go to Oral Roberts University to escape the harassment and be near my aging parents. It was not the best of all possible alternatives, but it was hardly the worst. I was settling.

I returned to Washington and asked Thomas for a reference. “I take you on a trip, and you end up getting a job offer,” he said only half-jokingly. I can only assume that he gave me a favorable reference, however, because in May 1983 Oral Roberts University made me an official
offer to start teaching there in the fall. I finished any outstanding work and left the EEOC as soon as I could afford to, living off savings and withdrawing money from my federal retirement fund in order to get out as quickly as I could.

My family was overjoyed that I would be returning to Oklahoma, though not everyone was thrilled that I would be working for a religious university. Still, my parents had none of the same reservations about my job change this time, since it involved moving closer to them. I had never spoken to them about the difficulties I had on the job, unable to bring myself to mention them, out of either embarrassment or a sense that my parents would be pained to hear it and helpless to do anything.

After I gave notice that I was leaving, Thomas asked if he could take me to dinner. I resisted, explaining that I did not think that it would be appropriate. He promptly countered that the dinner was simply a professional gesture offered as a matter of courtesy, not a social overture. In the hope of maintaining some level of professionalism, I took him at his word and consented. So, on the last day of my employment at the EEOC in July 1983, Clarence Thomas and I went out to dinner. We went to a restaurant near the EEOC office directly from work. Our conversation concerned my performance at both Education and the EEOC. Thomas said he was pleased with all of my work with the exception of the article on minority education and a speech I had written for him at the Office for Civil Rights. Finally, he made a comment I will always remember. He said that if I ever told anyone about his behavior toward me, it would ruin his career.

He did not attempt to explain his inappropriate conduct, nor was he in any way apologetic. Showing little or no concern for how the behavior had impacted me, this comment was typical of the self-centered view he held of his own behavior. I only wanted to block the whole situation out of my mind—to move on with my life and forget about it. I did not care that he was thinking only of himself (expecting no more from a man who had behaved as he did), for at that point, I was only thinking of
myself
. I thought how dangerous it is to put your trust in an individual
whose personal political aspirations outweigh his sense of right and wrong. Recalling his conversations about the hurt he experienced as a youth, I tried to consider what kind of pain he might have experienced to bring him to this point. Yet I knew that the only thing for me to do was flee. I told him that I simply wanted to leave the EEOC. The dinner ended and with it most of the respect that I had for Thomas.

I
cried throughout most of the airplane trip from Washington to Tulsa. I wept for what I would leave behind. My choice was not a happy one. It was a horrible one, not so much for what I was going to as for the reasons I was leaving. Looking back on that tearful journey from Washington, I think of my grandparents, who wept as they left Arkansas for Oklahoma. They, too, were tired of fighting against overwhelming odds. Like them, I did not suspect that the trouble I was leaving might be matched by more racism and sexism. I only knew that I was going home.

Rising above the experience proved easier once I was out of the agency. I’d gained back five of the pounds I lost during my last months at the EEOC. Once I was no longer under his supervision, I began to bifurcate my feelings about Clarence Thomas psychologically. I was able to think of him as a former employer and even a personal acquaintance with whom I could continue a congenial relationship. I separated that from his mistreatment and I equated this reaction with professionalism. Even so, I removed his name from my résumé and avoided reference to him when possible. On one occasion when an application form requested references from a former employer, I asked him for a letter of recommendation. He agreed, but none was forthcoming. And I never spoke to him about it again. When asked by a local group to get him to speak in Tulsa, I made the call.