This morning, someone commented easily enough that we live in strange times. My response?
Times haven’t changed. We’re just pulling back the curtain and shining a bright light on an ugly truth:
Our nation is a dumpster fire of partisan divide and a towering inferno of gender bias and sexism.
And those were just Wednesday’s headlines.
So, I’ve been trying to figure out where my voice belongs in the current social and political conversation. I have so many thoughts that they’re spilling out of the bed of some dude’s Dodge doolie pickup truck (complete with a lift kit and truck nuts). Where do I turn?
I knew that if I couldn’t laugh or turn the conversation on its head, I’d cry. Cry more than usual.
Satire was the answer. This week, I got my first published byline over at Weekly Humorist, so click on over.
I wrote this because when I heard the “boys will be boys” argument, I thought it was incredibly shitty to assail an entire gender to excuse a legacy of abusive behavior. There had to be statements that were more accurate. Turns out there are!
So today, as Dr. Christine Blasey and (potentially but likely not) other survivors go on to share the intimate details of their assault in the most public forum — complete with cameras, live broadcasts, and 11 Republicans likely yielding their time to a female prosecutor specializing in sex crimes brought in for the sole purpose of shifting attention away from the fact that their Committee membership is 11 white men —
What’s happening in Washington right now is a pivotable job interview.
It’s the place for us, as constituents to ask, “Is this the motherfucker I want to be deciding landmark cases impacting gender equity, reproductive rights, LGBTQIA+ inclusion, and how corporations can exert their influence as a force more impactful than individual voters?”
Is. This. That. Motherfucker. For. This. JOB?
This is an extraordinary job. These are extraordinary circumstances. It’s a lifetime appointment. That means the guidelines by which we determine a suitability for the role must also be… extraordinary.
I will say that I cannot watch the hearings live. I cannot put myself through every trigger that will marginalize, disrespect, and demean Dr. Blasey. I cannot watch a female prosecutor who has agreed to have her gender and expertise tokenized because of optics.
I cannot. But today, I send Dr. Blasey all my energy. My heart. A bag of peanut M&Ms. 58 fucks I’ve been saving for an occasion worthy of my fucks. She gets them ALL.
Never forget we live in a world where men are automatically believed when they say they didn’t do it but refuse to believe survivors when they say it happened.
I know it happened to you. I can’t tell you why. There’s nothing I can say to change that it happened.
I can tell you that I’m here. I’ll hold your hand and make space for you. And I believe you.
Now, let’s click on over for a chuckle. I’ll apologize in advance for the graphic accompanying the piece (not my choice). I won’t, however, apologize for having an opinion and point of view.