This is the seventh post about the making of my wall installation regarding Apple and the EEOC. To read the whole series from the beginning, start with It's Raining Men, then Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Have You Ever Seen the Rain, Purple Rain, Heavy Cloud No Rain, and Both Sides Now.
We have this narrative that victims can and should pursue justice. We love a hero's journey, and believing that an ordinary person with the right stuff can stand up to a behemoth and win. The arc of the story goes like this: find your inner power, face your adversary, and emerge victorious.
But what happens when our regulatory and justice systems are corrupt? When the people running them are vulnerable to manipulation? And when there's a whole legal field specialized in helping corporations avoid accountability?
Immediately following my EEOC investigation, Apple poached Bryan Hoss, one of the federal investigators on my case, to become a Senior Employee Relations Business Partner on their People (HR) team.
He‘s since removed his profile photo, totally normal.
As a public servant his pay at the time was public record: he was at grade 13 making $119,893/year, which doesn't sound like that much for a law school graduate. It was easy for Apple to know exactly what it would cost to buy him, and to do so.
It’s certainly less than Allison Riechert Giese made at Orrick, a law firm that prides itself on “significant wins on behalf of leading multinational companies on today’s most complex and challenging employment law matters.” Apple retained Riechert Giese to compose its EEOC position statement, using DARVO to frame me as deserving lower pay.
I had brought the EEOC a volume of evidence that spoke for itself. What I didn't know was that the incentives of the investigators might not align with enforcing the law. That after a hellish year of unpaid work, intimidation from the agency, unpredictable interruptions and unrelenting stress, I'd receive a stomach-turning email at 3:06pm on a random Thursday stating:
“Evidence acquired does not establish that you were paid less than similarly situated individuals because of your sex.”
I wonder how many other victims brave enough to come forward and suffer the retraumatization of a federal investigation have received this same copy pasta engineered to sound objective while covering up the agency's dereliction of duty.
Which brings me to the wall hanging, where I translated that evidence into hundreds of raindrops, and stamped the EEOC's decision into the clouds raining unequal pay.
I designed and laser cut each word stamp, envisioning a clerk approving or denying the paperwork crossing their desk, not negatively affected by the outcome either way. On the contrary, meeting quotas. Stamping represents both the investigator's distance and power.
It also conveys the permanent damage inflicted. I was working at Apple when Christine Blasey Ford described certain trauma details as indelible. In my medium, clay's plasticity means that it keeps its new shape after being manipulated, it doesn't ”bounce back.” These words were pressed deep into my being. My brain reshaped around the reality that sometimes the people in positions to help you are willing to hurt you, and that laws that aren't enforced can pose more danger to victims than if they didn't exist at all.
It's enough to make a girl want to burn sh*t with lasers:
I made the stamps out of MDF. Each stamp took 35-75 minutes to engrave and cut on my laser cutter. Continuing my cost transparency, my 30 watt CO2 laser cutter cost $2000 (2 raindrops) and its air filter $999 (1 raindrop). The fiberboard for the stamps cost $9 per 12"x20" sheet, and I only needed one—though I did have to cut it in half to fit in the machine, using a circular saw I had at home.
With the clouds underway, I'll share how I put all the parts together in the next post.
I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee, clouds in my coffee
—Carly Simon