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.
It’s the entire attitude toward rape that has to be done away with, not just the politician. As long as the survivors of rape are scared to come forward because they fear they won’t be believed, or be told their rape wasn’t real or bad enough, or because they are scared of a legal system that is cold and unempathetic, we will never do right by the survivors of rape.
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.
To someone who has looked in vain for work month after month, “Get a job” are the words of a bully, sent like a kick in the teeth to someone who is already down.