The laughter came uncertain at first, then louder when she laughed along with it, giving them permission.

My husband stood ten feet away, white-faced and still.

I have thought since about that laughter, and about how easily it came once she authorized it.

These were not evil people, most of them — they were investors and philanthropists and public servants, people who ran foundations and cut ribbons and gave speeches about dignity.

And every one of them laughed at a woman whose dress had just been torn open to expose a scar, because a rich and confident host told them it was acceptable to.

That is the thing I understood standing there that the guests did not understand about themselves: that cruelty in a room like that is not really about the target.