She's Not My Type
Apparently, Donald Trump could rape someone on Fifth Avenue and not lose any support. Every day brings a new revelation of corruption, self-dealing and reprehensible behavior. But this just blows my mind. Let’s talk about E. Jean Carroll and the incredibly shitty way we treat women in America.
Yesterday the taxpayer funded US Department of Justice filed paperwork to take over Trump's defense against the defamation suit of E. Jean Carroll who published a memior in which she detailed Trump raping her in the dressing room at Bergdorf's many years ago. Trump claimed she was lying and was then hit with a defamation case which was recently in the news because Trump was ordered to provide DNA to compare against the dress Carroll was wearing at the time. This looks like a hail Mary to prevent Trump from providing a DNA sample. Not really what one would expect an innocent man to do. So let's repeat: it is the position of the Department of Justice that when the President publicly lies about someone who has the audacity to call him on it, taxpayers should fund his defense.
The New York Times: Justice Dept. Intervenes to Help Trump in E. Jean Carroll Rape Lawsuit
“Trump’s effort to wield the power of the U.S. government to evade responsibility for his private misconduct is without precedent,” the lawyer, Roberta A. Kaplan, said in the statement, “and shows even more starkly how far he is willing to go to prevent the truth from coming out.”
The Justice Department’s motion came only a month after a state judge in New York issued a ruling that potentially opened the door to Mr. Trump being deposed in the case before the election.
The ACCUSATION – An excerpt from What Do We Need Men For?
New York Magazine, The Cut: Donald Trump Assaulted Me…
My first rich boy pulled down my underpants. My last rich boy pulled down my tights. My first rich boy — I had fixed my eyes on his face long enough to know — was beautiful, with dark gray eyes and long golden-brown hair across his forehead. I don’t know what he grew up to be. My last rich boy was blond. He grew up to be the president of the United States...
The moment the dressing-room door is closed, he lunges at me, pushes me against the wall, hitting my head quite badly, and puts his mouth against my lips. I am so shocked I shove him back and start laughing again. He seizes both my arms and pushes me up against the wall a second time, and, as I become aware of how large he is, he holds me against the wall with his shoulder and jams his hand under my coat dress and pulls down my tights.
I am astonished by what I’m about to write: I keep laughing. The next moment, still wearing correct business attire, shirt, tie, suit jacket, overcoat, he opens the overcoat, unzips his pants, and, forcing his fingers around my private area, thrusts his penis halfway — or completely, I’m not certain — inside me. It turns into a colossal struggle. I am wearing a pair of sturdy black patent-leather four-inch Barneys high heels, which puts my height around six-one, and I try to stomp his foot. I try to push him off with my one free hand — for some reason, I keep holding my purse with the other — and I finally get a knee up high enough to push him out and off and I turn, open the door, and run out of the dressing room.
The FALLOUT – Whatever you do, don’t piss off Gwyneth Paltrow.
The New York Times: What Happened Between E. Jean Carroll and Elle Magazine?
On Feb. 18, Ms. Carroll wrote on Twitter: “Because Trump ridiculed my reputation, laughed at my looks, & dragged me through the mud, after 26 years, ELLE fired me. I don’t blame Elle. It was the great honor of my life writing ‘Ask E. Jean.’ I blame @realdonaldtrump.”
Earlier that day, her lawyers had disclosed in a court filing in connection to her defamation suit against Mr. Trump that Elle had killed the Ask E. Jean column, which had been published virtually every month for 26 years…
“The lawsuit is for all women who have been harassed, who cannot speak up and don’t have the money to sue,” Ms. Carroll said. “I am speaking out now for the women who have spoken out and have met their doom. Sometimes you speak out against a man in power and you lose your job.”
The AFTERMATH – Writing "Accusers" into women.
The Atlantic Magazine – you may have heard of it recently with their bombshell story about the President calling military service members and dead soldiers suckers and losers (yes, he totally did that) and then fuming at the owner, renowned woman who exists, Laurene Powell Jobs – is running a series leading up to the election where E. Jean Carroll interviews some of the many, many women who have accused Donald Trump of assault. There is something about E. Jean Carroll, about her prose, her delivery, her humor and thoughtfulness. Reading through her memoir, What Do We Need Men For?, one giggles, fumes and remembers all of our hideous men too. But these below pieces resonate with me in a way that others covering these stories haven’t. They remind me that all of these women are real – people who laugh, scream and weep, who have been groped on a crowded subway, paid less for the same work or been called a bitch for ignoring a catcaller and despite the very heavy toll, nevertheless stood up and told their stories. So thank you to them. And thank you to E. Jean Carroll, who incidentally gave me some very good proxy advice over the years.
The Atlantic: I Moved on Her Very Heavily Series
In her 2019 memoir, What Do We Need Men For?, E. Jean Carroll accused Donald Trump of rape, in a Bergdorf’s dressing room in the mid-1990s. After the president denied ever meeting her and dismissed her story as a Democratic plot, she sued him for defamation. Carroll was not, of course, the first woman to say that Trump had sexually harassed or assaulted her, but unlike so many other powerful men, the president has remained unscathed by the #MeToo reckoning. Which might seem surprising, until you remember Trump’s modus operandi: He escapes the consequences of one outrage by turning our focus to another, in perpetuity. So in the run-up to the November 3 election, Carroll is interviewing other women who alleged that Trump suddenly and without consent “moved on” them, to cite his locution in the Access Hollywood tape. “I’m automatically attracted to beautiful—I just start kissing them, it’s like a magnet ... And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab ’em by the pussy.”
Part 1: I Moved on Her Very Heavily
“I remember his weight,” I say. “He leans on you like an oversexed mastodon.”
“If he did, I can’t remember it,” she replies.
And I say: “Maybe you just didn’t feel it.”
I raise my eyebrows.
Natasha looks at me, tilting her head. It takes a moment. Then she falls forward and practically rolls on her Zoom table.
Oh yes, surprised reader, we accusers scream with laughter.
Nineteen, or 25, or 43 women have come forward to accuse Trump of ogling, grabbing, groping, mauling, or raping them. The women say they dodged, ran, froze, ducked, resisted, or laughed at him; and we all stood up, spoke out, got dragged through the mud, belittled, and besmirched. Natasha calls us the “whistleblowers.” She wrote a blistering op-ed in The Washington Post last November pointing out how it is women who warned the world what to expect from Trump. (Mary Trump is just the latest.)
You remember it. She is as firm as Kamala Harris and chokes up like Bette Davis in Now, Voyager. Joan of Arc at the stake could not have been more dramatic.
It is a disaster. “The fallout from the press conference,” Karena says, “is a million times—a million times—worse than being groped by the president.”…
After the press conference, the death threats began. And this from an anonymous lawyer in Part 2 on why she didn’t come forward:
“I thought about it a bunch,” she says. “But in the scheme of things, it wasn’t a rape. It was a forcible touch. I wondered: Is it worth associating my name with that?”
“Forever,” I say.
“Forever. And as a woman, if you ever come forward with any allegation, it’s like you’re tainted. They pick apart your work. They pick apart your appearance.” (Indeed. Tributes to my devastating beauty have been offered daily since I accused Trump of raping me. This tweet, from @blumrln75—a.k.a. “God Fearing American, Florida saltwater cowboy”—is one of my favorites: “He [Trump] wouldn’t do you with Joe Biden’s wiener!”)
When the rape allegation and account came to light, Trump denied ever meeting Carroll. But of course there’s always a picture – because that’s what happens with narcissists who have never seen a camera they wouldn’t mug for. He then added “She’s not my type,” because in our bizarro world that seems like a reasonable defense. And then the media moved on to the next story.
I can tell you one thing for sure. E. Jean Carroll is definitely my type.
The most dangerous woman is a woman who has nothing to lose. The most dangerous man is the man who has EVERYTHING to lose.
Here is Robbie Kaplan's reply. She is the greatest attorney in America! pic.twitter.com/tgLBPK5vf2
@ejeancarroll is now at the center of Barr's massive gaslighting operation, which affects all of us. E. Jean alone probably has the wit and nerve to endure it. Her persistence is service to the rest of us.
With Barr using our taxes to defend Trump against @ejeancarroll, the woman who says he raped her, our government is fully Trumps swamp. We're paying so Trump can fight giving up his DNA that could prove he raped someone. We're being forced to pay for covering up an alleged rape.
One of the things I have feared most since the night of the 2016 election is the inevitable hardening of my own heart-and what such hardening might lead to, especially if it were experienced by many other people as well.
From above article:
When I imagined specifics, back in November, 2016, I pictured something like last week—or part of it. I imagined that undocumented families would be openly and cruelly persecuted in America, and that there would be plans of mass raids and internment, and that as this was happening I would not be rioting in the street as I ought to but depressively checking things off my Google Calendar to-do list and probably writing a blog post about a meme. What I didn’t imagine, though—and what actually occurred last week—is that a respected and well-known writer would accuse the President of raping her, and that I would be so sad and numb, after years of writing about Trump’s many accusers, after watching Brett Kavanaugh get confirmed to the Supreme Court in the face of credible sexual-assault allegations, that I would not even have the courage to read the story for days.
And... not his type? Take a look at the picture and you tell me...
A The Washington Post 50 notable works of nonfiction in 2019 "A work of comic genius." --Mary Norris, The New Yorker"Darkly humorous and deadly serious." -Sibbie O'Sullivan, Washington Post "A compulsively interesting feminist memoir." -Virginia Heffernan, Slate"Somehow hilarious, in the way that only E.