The accusation landed with a thud in the media, briefly disturbing the public conversation one sunny Friday afternoon the way a spilled glass of wine momentarily disturbs a dinner party. E. Jean Carroll, the longtime Elle advice columnist, had published an excerpt from her forthcoming memoir on the cover of New York magazine, in which she accused President Donald Trump of sexually assaulting her in a Bergdorf Goodman dressing room more than 20 years ago. According to Carroll, the incident likely took place in 1996, when Trump was merely a crass businessman with a thirst for tabloid fame. Two friends she called in the immediate aftermath of the attack confirmed Carroll’s story to New York, then to The New York Times. Carroll did not use the word rapein her account of what happened in the dressing room with the man who would become president, but there was little room for doubt that it fit the legal definition.
The revelation had the quality of déjà vu, not shocking but familiar, probably because we have quite literally been here before. Carroll is at least the 22nd woman to publicly accuse Trump of sexual misconduct, and the second to accuse him of rape—the first was Trump’s first wife, Ivana Trump, the mother of three of his children, who later rescinded her allegation. Carroll’s piece garnered much praise for its elegant style and for the integrity she showed in publishing it, but it generated nothing like shock. Yeah, I thought. That sounds about right.
