There it was – flags and billy clubs. Everything my mother ever warned me about.
At least have the courage to hear what your own citizens are saying. Hear them out, because that’s what a leader of a democracy does. And if you won’t even do that, then let’s drop this pretense of being a democracy. You can change your title from governor to autocrat, and at least that would be honest.
A friend took me aside. “My word to you,” she said, “is focus on intent, not outcome.” Wise words, and I have done my best to live by them since then. It just isn’t easy to do.
It’s now 22 years later and women’s bodies are still being used as political bargaining chips, facts of the matter be damned. And now it’s not just abortion that has them in a lather. It’s women’s health itself. And that makes me a bit twitchy, because birth control might be all that stands between me and a pretty serious operation.
Six months ago, almost to the day, I was ushered into a cramped office and told that my career had just come to a screeching halt. Three of us sat in that small and cluttered space, and two sets of eyes fixed on me, waiting for me to say something. Yesterday, I was brought into another office. Its ceiling, 20 feet above me, was decorated with a mural, underscored by a line of intricate wood moldings that encircled the office. And again, two sets of eyes were on me, wondering what I would say.
We are no longer friends. We stopped being friends when you said you wanted anyone who supported the Occupy movement to defriend you. I said “As you like” and did as you requested. But ever since then, it has being weighing on me and I would like to tell you why.
You’d be hard pressed (get it?) to find much fun going on in a newsroom these days. For one, Gannett no longer even has news rooms. Years back, they decided to call them information centers, as though that was going to help anything. For two, there’s hardly anyone left in them.