I’m So Angry – A Rant

I have not written here much since the election. My disillusionment was too great.  So I thanked Secretary Clinton for her awesome service and inspiration, celebrated as much as possible for my birthday and over the holidays, and thought about next steps.  As so many of us are, I am writing and calling and showing up as often as possible to make it clear that this administration is just.not.okay.

thhdynv06tBut that’s not even what I am most angry about. What makes me so damn angry is the absolute denial of those who are still saying “but Hillary” and “Bernie would have”.  You know what?  The house is burning down here, and you are worried about a leaky faucet.  Every single damn non-Republican who voted third party, or stayed home, or worse, voted for 45, brought this on us.  And you need to own it.  No more “Bernie would have won”.  Or “the Primary was rigged”.  Or “I just couldn’t vote for Hillary”.  You screwed up.  And you screwed up for all of us, not just yourself.

No candidate has ever been perfect – even Saint Sanders – but anyone who looked at HRC vs DJT and still did not vote for her is wearing blinders. And yes, it makes me angry every.damn.day.  And no, I’m not going to stop saying so.  I can actually be angry about this and still fight the fire you brought upon us.

And I will hold close to my heart and mind what Hillary said, in that wonderful speech that she was forced to give after you stole the Presidency from the only qualified candidate in the race:

“Please never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it.”



Today – yes, today – is my fiftieth birthday.  15337669_1398571906842361_7722977196150417882_nI’ve been celebrating all weekend with my best friend, and there’s a party tonight.  But right now, I’m taking a bit of time alone, with cat, and being me, I’m reflecting.

I’ve been sharing some wonderful quotes on Facebook about aging, and I especially love this one from my favorite author, Madeleine L’Engle:

The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.

Many authors have written on that theme, and I can’t best them, so I’m not going to try.  My reflection today is about how different fifty seems now that I’ve reached it than when the women who shaped my life were reaching this age.

When my mother and my aunts turned fifty, it was unimaginably old.  They were quite definitely grown-ups – fun grown-ups, but grown-ups.  Now I wonder if they felt as I do – that the kid in me is still dominant.  And I don’t only mean in terms of playing, but in doubt, and fear, and especially, hope.  Did they doubt the choices they had made and were making?  Did they fear as I do that they have not achieved what they “should” (whatever the hell that means), or that they were not the woman they had wanted to be?  Did they still hope for more, more, more?  Did they still want to try new things with the abandon of a child, or did they hold back, because they were adults, and they weren’t “allowed”?

Well, now it’s my turn.  And for future reference,  I still doubt, and fear, and hope, and play.  There is fear, but also joy.  And damn, fifty is feeling good.


Dear Secretary Clinton

Thank you.

I know that not winning this election is probably one of the hardest, if not the hardest, things you have ever survived, but that you ran, and that you are clearly surviving, helps me.  It helps all of us.

Thank you for setting the example that a woman in the United States can go further than we believed – for fulfilling a large part of my childhood dream.  At my age, I have lost most of the strong, loving women who raised me.  Thank you for being there when I needed to know there are still those women “raising” us.

Thank you for showing the world, for so many years, what a smart, talented, professional woman looks like, even if they refused to see.

Thank you for being imperfect,  but still fighting on.  We are all imperfect, and your courage as you dealt with consequences gives me courage.

I will always be with you, and as the amazing Amy Ferris wrote, in many ways, I am you, but this may sum up my next steps best – I wrote it on Facebook shortly after the election:

Dear friends:

This may anger some of you, and I admit I am still processing what our country has done to itself. But no, I will not join in with the #NotOurPresident chant. Do you remember when that charge was leveled against our current President? Do you remember how it deepened the divide?

The divide in this country is clear. I do not think any of us really saw it for what it is, and we need to work hard going forward not only to mend fences, but to prevent our President-elect and those around him from making it worse with the type of policies he outlined in his campaign.

Taking to the streets, but without a plan to action, can be incredibly satisfying, and I would never say not to do so. But I will say that without a plan, such energy often dissipates quickly and leaves more bitterness behind. I wrote much the same about my concerns during the Democratic primary, and it boils down to one sentence: Revolutions are hard fucking work.

I am ready to do that work. I hope you are too.

You helped me see the necessity of those words, while still fighting the good fight.  And while I feel sad and scared and angry, you showed me we can go on.

So thank you.621951848_hillary-clinton-zoom-5bf026cb-ebbc-4a1b-b647-4614139b82a3



Sometimes I Get Scared

There are lots of things in our world today that are frightening, but you know, you can’t worry all the time.  And many of them, I personally can’t do anything about.  For example, I can’t stop a shooter from attacking a school, or a mall, or a movie theater.  I can’t stop a bomber from planting his “creations” in a public area.  And this might surprise you, but I can’t control the weather.

What scares me the most right now, though, is something I can fight.  It may be futile (though I don’t think so), but I can use my meager contributions and my voice and my vote to fight against a lying, racist, misogynist bully from becoming the President of the United States.

I’ve written before about my support of Hillary Clinton and why I’m not going to argue the same tired GOP talking points any more.  But I’ve pretty much avoided talking about her opponent.  However, as we get closer to the actual election, he scares me more every day.  I’ve read some research that claims the candidate of a major party will basically always pull 40% of the vote – that’s their “floor” – but that does not help my fear of the Republican candidate.  And isn’t that a terrifying thought on its own?

If somehow you’ve had your head in the sand, Keith Olbermann provided this handy-dandy guide to many of the shocking moments of this election cycle.

If you’re not scared of the Republican candidate, I’m scared for you.  If you’re still holding onto to the idea that your conscience is somehow better than mine, and you are choosing to vote for a third-party candidate (even in a so-called “safe state”), I’m scared for you.  If you are so apathetic (or something), that you will not be voting in the Presidential race, I’m scared for you.  The damage you will be doing will reach far beyond your personal bubble.

And if instead of being scared, you are choosing to vote for the Republican candidate for President, I just might be scared of you.

I’m So Tired – A Rant

Enough already.  #ImWithHer, and your nasty attacks, your unwillingness to look at the truth and consequences of the lies you are spreading, your lack of interest in facts will NOT change my mind.

#ImWithHer not because she’s the “lesser of two evils”.  And not even because I’m afraid of Trump, though any thinking person should be.

#ImWithHer and I am voting FOR her.  For an incredibly smart, qualified, honorable, human being.  With flaws and strengths, like every human being.  Who has shown us in every way possible that she cares – not about her own ego, but about this country and its people.  All of us.

And yes, whose gender is the same as mine.

Do NOT talk to me about Benghazi.  There has been more loss with less interest under the last several Presidents.  While I could write paragraphs about it, I won’t.  So just don’t.

Do NOT talk to me about the Clinton Foundation, or the Clinton Family Foundation.  You do not have to like where they get their funding, but until and unless there is illegal action, get over it.

Do NOT talk to me about her email.  I do not care what you think.  The only authority that matters – the one, you know, that actually did the investigation and has all the information, concluded there was no case.  Done.  You can disagree, but in fact, I do not care.

Do NOT quote Michael Moore at me.  I mean, really, WTF, Michael?

Do NOT try to tell me how I must discuss her, how I must read your crappy right-wing website or watch Fox News.  Assume I have done my research, as I assume you have done yours.  I’m still stunned at your conclusions, but I imagine you feel the same way.


I’m so tired.

Because the battle every woman fights every day has been magnified and thrown on the screen for our review, and so many are ignoring it, and ignoring the inherent sexism in pillorying this woman for things we never discuss when a man does them.  And then claiming there is no problem.

Because it is 2016, and there are still “firsts” for people of color, and women, and all the groups we dismissively call “minorities”.

Because we are never quite good enough.  Just not the “right” woman.  But hey, you know, thanks for playing.

So give it a rest.  Give me a rest.  No, I will not “know my place”.  No, I will not wait until you are satisfied.  Just no.

The time is now, and #ImWithHer.




(And just because it’s a great compilation of important information, read this.)

It’s Okay That It’s Not Me

When I was in elementary school, I had my first encounters with politics. I remember Nixon’s resignation (I was seven), and I remember Shirley Chisholm’s campaign for President (though I was five).  By the time I was nine, I thought I wanted a career in politics.  I was going to be the first female President.  I was going to finish what Shirley started.  I kept a notebook full of ideas – I wish I could find it – and this morning, I even texted my cousin, who still teases me about that notebook, to remind her of my early ambitions.

Clearly my life went in a different direction. At about the same time I was keeping that notebook, I saw my first “grown-up” theater – a production of Othello at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, starring the incomparable Samuel E. Wright.  By the end of the play, I had moved to the front row of the almost empty theater, and was weeping non-stop.  (Note:  I finally met Sam in 1997, and yes, I told him my being in the business was all.his.fault.)

However, it was always still in the back of my mind – and often the front – that there are glass ceilings to be shattered, and I got so frustrated anytime a woman was the “first” anything. Shouldn’t these firsts be done by now?  Shouldn’t we working toward being the “best”, not the “first”, instead?

Full disclosure: I did not support Hillary Clinton in 2008, and in fact, I was not a registered Democrat until last year, when I switched from being a life-long Independent.  To vote, I thought at the time, for Bernie Sanders (see, it was possible to change your registration and vote in a closed primary.  Even in New York State!). But over the course of this primary, it became clear to me that supporting Hillary was not only right for me (and my vagina), but the best thing for the country that I love.

As I said here, revolutions are hard fucking work. And Hillary can and will do that work. She is the revolution. She is “change we can believe in”. She is everything I once wanted to be, but so.much.better.


You Say You Want A Revolution?*

(*Before you read this, know that it might make you angry.  Or you might agree.  I moderate the comments on this blog, and any courteous discourse is welcome.  Any other type will be addressed.  And know that whatever you may take away from what you read, I will #votebluenomatterwho because #neverTrump.

P.S.  Apologies in advance to the Beatles for what they (or their fans) might see as a heinous misuse of their words…)

True confession:  I’ve never cared that much about politics.  It’s not that I haven’t paid attention, but I’ve never before invested the emotional energy that the current Presidential primaries have drawn from me.  And I’ve learned a lot about myself in the process.

Given my commitment to the labor movement, you may be surprised to know that I am not really a “joiner”.  And in 2008, I did not bother to register as a Democrat to vote in the New York primary, because really, they were all kind of fine with me.  In 2015, though, I did register as a Democrat.  Now, I don’t really give two shits about any political party, but I also know that you can only change the system if you know (and participate in) the system, and I honestly though Bernie Sanders was the answer.

The clown car of Republican candidates that resulted in Donald Trump (DONALD TRUMP!) as their presumptive nominee was both amusing and terrifying to watch, but I read with great care every scrap of information about the Democratic candidates; I watched every debate, every town hall, and every interview (okay, I’m sure I missed some, but I really, really, really tried).  As of the second debate, I became uneasy.  Remember the timing?  We had just seen a great tragedy in Paris – a terrorist attack leading to much death and destruction – and the candidates agreed that they would each get one minute added to their time at the top to talk about that.  And Senator Sanders did not.  He gave the tragedy what seemed like ten seconds, and pivoted to his stump speech.  I was stunned and dismayed.

I’m all for revolution.  I’m in favor of much of what is in that stump speech.  But what had been mild concern during the first debate about ability became full-fledged fear as time went on.  I lost friends and was often attacked as I voiced my opinions on line, but hey, I’m nothing if not stubborn.

Revolutions are hard fucking work.  They take leadership and time and planning and direct action and on the ground operations and flexibility and – well, you get the idea.  I’m not much of a historian (actually, my friends who are historians would probably say I’m not one at all), but you know all those stories we all learned in our history classes about those who took direct action and made change?  Did you miss the part where many of those actions were part of a larger plan, and even if sometimes the timing was driven by the moment, they were ready for that moment?  My favorite example on this is Rosa Parks.  She was part of a movement.  The movement had a plan.  She took her moment.

Failed revolutions start with grand ideas – and often, direct actions – with no plans.  Occupy Wall Street is a great example of a failed revolution.  I know there are those that disagree with me on this, but hey, it’s my blog, and what I saw was a great moment wasted because not only was there no plan, they refused to try to create one.  A plan was too “establishment”, I guess.  All that momentum and energy left us with…a hashtag.

But when you talk about destruction
Don’t you know that you can count me out?…

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know
We’d all love to see the plan

Did you know that the New Left and the counterculture denounced this song?  They felt it displayed fear.  Well, I think it’s damn smart, and I think history shows that incremental change brings lasting revolution.  The kind of revolution we can believe in.

To go back to the beginning…I did say this primary had led to me to learn a lot about myself, and you may ask what.  Well – I knew that I believe in change.  I revel in change.  And I knew that change requires a long, hard slog (and a plan).  I knew that most people don’t actually agree with me to the point that they will fight change with every tool at their disposal, while at the same time, disavowing that that is what is happening.  They claim they are being “cautious” and “responsible” and “thoughtful” and “analytic”.  And I am sure all of that is true.  But regular readers of this blog will know that I am a big fan of the gut decision – and interestingly enough, that the gut decision, in hindsight, always involved all of those traits.

So, what’s new?  I’m getting there, I promise.  And when I can express it in a way that makes sense to anyone but me, I’ll get back to you.  But for now, I can say for sure that I learned #ImWithHer.


(And just for fun…http://)




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