I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: racism

  • be woke! go vote!


     “Suffrage is not simply about the right to vote but also about what that represents: the basic and fundamental human right of being able to participate in the choices for your future and that of your community, the involvement and voice that allows you to be a part of the very world that you are a part of… it is not simply about the right to vote for women, but also about what that represents: the basic and fundamental human right of all people, including those members of society who have been marginalized whether for reasons of race, gender, ethnicity or orientation, to be able to participate in the choices for their future and their community.”

    (reported by Sabrina Barr, MSN News)

    Say, whose quote is this? Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony or Lucy Stone in the 1800s during the beginnings of the Suffragette Movement in the USA? Or was it Alice Paul with her group of women activists called the Silent Sentinels who were imprisoned in America in the early 1900s, went on hunger strikes in prison and were force fed to be kept alive for three years before the 19th Amendment to the United States Constitution giving women the right to vote was finally passed in 1920? The above quote could have been attributed to any of these American women who devoted their lives to securing the right of women to vote in our country.

    Instead, the quote belongs to another American woman, Meghan Markle, who is now the Duchess of Sussex and spoke these words yesterday to a crowd in New Zealand where she was near the end of a Royal Tour with Prince Harry. While celebrating that country’s 125th anniversary of women’s rights to vote, she praised New Zealanders for their political actions in 1893 and concluded her remarks with a quote from the country’s most famous suffragette, Kate Sheppard: “All that separates, whether of race, class, creed or sex, is inhuman and must be overcome.”

    I am so proud that an American-born woman of color is in New Zealand talking about the basic right of all women to participate in shaping our democracies with the power of the vote. Every vote matters. You are only powerless when you fail to exercise your power.

    Pretty is driving me this morning to my Lexington County voting place for early voting for the midterms which are scheduled for Tuesday, November 6, 2018. I am feeling very strong today. This election is very important in shaping the future of our communities, our states and our nation; and I, for one, want my voice to be heard.

    I’m going to think about Meghan Markle’s final remark from Kate Sheppard: “All that separates, whether of race, class, creed or sex is inhuman, and must be overcome.”

    Amen, sisters. Tell it.  We shall overcome. Be woke. Go Vote!

    Stay tuned.

     

  • Gettysburg – looking for common ground


    Whatever you do, don’t discuss elephants or donkeys in the newly formed group Politics, Facts & Civility in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania; the group was formed by local citizens of that same town made famous by an American civil war battle in July, 1863 and a speech made by president Abraham Lincoln four months after the battle in November of that year. The group PF&C was formed to bring together Republicans and Democrats in the small town to try to find common ground in a friendly atmosphere – to try to tamp down the rancor,  partisan rhetoric and bitterness in their home town that was a microcosm of the ugliness and downright meanness taking over the political discourse across the country. Family members divided, neighbors pitted against neighbors, and these people wanted to seek a new way forward. The group was small with ten members at a recent meeting, but the hope was for finding more ways in which we were alike than we were unalike, to borrow Maya Angelou’s words. Bravo.

    “Now we are engaged in a great civil war, a testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war… The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here…” Abraham Lincoln, Gettysburg Address, November, 1863

    The world noted for a news cycle what was said by Dr. Christine Blasey Ford in her tortured testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee last week. The world noted for several news cycles Judge Kavanaugh’s tearful dramatic denials which conjured images of him for me of his being seated next to Clarence Thomas for the Supremes’ official portrait. The world noted briefly the unhinged outburst of Senator Lindsay Graham who I implored on his Senate voice mail this week to please ask the media to refrain from continuing to say Senator Lindsay Graham of South Carolina — yes, even that blatant rudeness and disrespect  will not be remembered by the world (except perhaps by the person who inspired him); but we, the people, will never be able to forget what was done in the United States Senate during the first week of October, 2018.  The appointment of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court was a lifetime appointment with generational implications.

    We continue to be involved in a great civil war testing whether our democracy can long endure, don’t we? New divisions, and old ones unresolved…new wounds, and old ones framed in new language continue to test our commitment to each other as citizens of a nation dedicated to beliefs in government of the people, by the people and for the people. Our new civil war is as uncivil as the first one was, and our convictions in the guardians of our democracy through its legislative, executive and judicial branches of government hang by threads as thin as the ones in my favorite pair of pajamas.

    The Kavanaugh confirmation process was described by Senate Judiciary Committee chairman Chuck Grassley and his sidekick Orrin Hatch as being dysfunctional to the Beyond Thunder Dome power. While American citizens gathered outside the committee room in the halls of Congress and around the capitol grounds to protest the Kavanaugh confirmation — even had the audacity to confront individual senators in the elevators and in their offices — I found rays of sunshine amid the darkness of the dysfunction. My new heroes as champions of democracy during the hearings were Senator Chris Coons of Delaware, Senator Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota, Senator Mazie Hirono of Hawaii and Senator Kamala Harris of California for their eloquence in expressing their positions, their calm demeanor while questioning Kavanaugh and their polite refusal to be led down the rabbit hole of disrespect.

    Bravo again to the Politics, Facts & Civility group in Gettysburg. My hope is that your membership grows and expands to include citizens in the towns near you… until the movement becomes a wave washing across the entire state of Pennsylvania which then spills over state boundaries all the way to South Carolina.

    Pretty tells me all the time we need to start with our own neighbors who haven’t spoken to us since we’ve been here now for 18 months. My attitude toward them has been mostly uncivil, too, as I tend to believe they vote Republican and disrespect the gays. But I know for sure we have common ground in keeping our yards maintained so maybe that’s a place to begin. Gosh, it sure has been a warm October so far, hasn’t it?

    Stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

  • Lessons from a Butterfly


    One week ago today I was doing my pool exercises when I saw something so very extraordinary I took a calculated risk to retrieve my cell phone from the buggy it rests in without disturbing the amazing sight.

    butterfly on caterpillar body – gently folding and unfolding wings

    as it moved its legs across the still corpse

    The carcasses of two recently deceased caterpillars lay next to the steps where I entered the pool every day. I scarcely paid any attention to them when I moved down the steps and into the water. After all, the bodies of caterpillars that were casualties of the chlorine were common and a dime a dozen, weren’t they.

    I also paid very little attention to the small dark colored butterfly that flew around me in wide circles for about 15 minutes until it came to rest on one of the caterpillar bodies lying on the cement next to the pool steps.

    I was so startled at the sight that I stopped my pacing to watch as the butterfly established a kind of rhythm – opening and closing its wings while it moved its legs back and forth across the dead caterpillar. I felt like I was an intruder in a private ritual of grief reserved for these tiny creatures that made our human tears a poor substitute. And then I began to think the butterfly didn’t fly away from me because it sensed my shared sorrow.

    Today, exactly one week later, I was on the last leg of my routine early morning walk around the pool when I saw this remarkable sight.

    a beautiful large blue black butterfly landed right in front of me

    This gorgeous creature flew next to the pool steps, landed, and began to open and close its wings just as the one had last week. I sat down in my buggy seat to better observe what I believe was…what?…the same butterfly from last week…another butterfly…what does that matter really…

    What I learned was a powerful lesson about the importance of all creatures great and small, the individuality of grief, the exquisite beauty in hope embraced by a spirit willing to take flight following great loss.

    Stay tuned.

     

     

  • a man of letters – part 2 – after the war, the GI bill and my dad


    When my dad came home from World War II, he eloped with my mom and began a financial roller coaster that dizzied him for the rest of his life. Dad wanted to get married and finish his education – both of which required money – but he had none. Enter the G.I. bill.

    The Servicemen’s Readjustment Act was signed into law by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt on June 22, 1944, and was better known as the G.I. Bill. The American Legion in cooperation with the Veterans of Foreign Wars urged the federal government to provide for the approximately 12 million World War II veterans returning home who would flood the marketplace looking for jobs, and the G.I. Bill was the government’s response. The bill provided tuition and living expenses to attend high school, college, or vocational/technical schools. Low-cost mortgage loans to buy homes or start a business were included in the law as was one year of unemployment compensation.

    Glenn and Selma married in May, 1945 when he returned from England after the war to his small southeast Texas home town of Richards in Grimes County. He was on furlough when they eloped, and they left immediately for a honeymoon via train to Miami, Florida. The honeymoon must have been successful on some levels, although my grandmother reported that my mom called her crying, wanting to come home several times while they were gone.

    During those early summer months together Glenn was honorably discharged from the Army Air Corps and decided he wanted to finish the college education he had begun at Lamar College in Beaumont before the war. Not surprisingly his higher education choice was the University of Texas in Austin because he always considered UT to be the most prestigious state university.

    Evidently the plan was for Selma, who by then was three months pregnant, to live at home with her mother in Richards which was 150 miles from Austin; Glenn would visit on weekends. A penny post card (note it really was 1 cent) dated October 30, 1945 was the first of a whirlwind of words he sent Selma in the fall of 1945 – continuing the letter writing campaign he began when he was in the service.

    “Dearest Darling,

    Just to let you know I made it all right which I did, I’m writing to you. Clever, no?

    I found me a place 5 miles from the college to stay. I”ll tell you about it when I write tonight. I do intend to write tonight.

    I’ll see you sometimes Saturday.

    I love you,

    Glenn”

    True to his “word”  Glenn did indeed write a letter to Selma on the night of October 30th. from his new digs in Austin. The letter was postmarked the following day.

    “Dearest Darling,

    As I promised in the card this afternoon, dear, I’m writing to you once again already.

    Several times I’ve started to forget this whole foolish idea & start to work, but somehow I’ve managed to keep up my pecker. The big job yesterday was finding a place to stay. Another lad about 24 and I hooked up & started looking and finally found a place about 2 miles from the city limits. The place itself is very nice; the vista is swell; but the distance is multi. We have to pay $15 per month for the room. We’re eating in the commons & the food is pretty common. Reasonable enough, however.

    A little about my roommate. He’s an ex-serviceman. He was a pilot. He’s from Big Springs, Texas. Pretty pleasant associate. He has a Buick. Fine car.

    Honey, I wish there were some way that we could be together & I’ll sacrifice anything to accomplish said end, but as far as getting an apt. here…that’s out of the question. Some other place maybe. I’m already getting anxious to see you again.

    Tomorrow registration. Thursday, School starts. I’ll see you Saturday, lover.

    I love you,

    Glenn”

    back of the envelope – a hasty afterthought

    Selma at home in Richards

    The very next day, Halloween, found my father writing another letter to my mother, but I will save that one for next time.

    Stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Maya Angelou: wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now


    “Being a woman is hard work. Not without joy and even ecstasy,

    but still relentless, unending work.

    Becoming an old female may require only being born

    with certain genitalia, inheriting long-living genes

    and the fortune not to be run over by an out-of-control truck,

    but to become and remain a woman command

    the existence and employment of genius.”

    Maya Angelou (1928 – 2014)

    The words of Maya Angelou never cease to create feelings of admiration and awe for me… to the extent that my gosh- why- couldn’t- I- have- written- that paranoia kicks in. The little paperback I randomly picked up yesterday afternoon on an end table in our living room which Pretty now uses as her Rescued Books sorting room caught my attention because it was (a) small and (b) written by Maya Angelou. The book was titled Wouldn’t Take Nothing for my Journey Now.

    As I read the book yesterday afternoon, I was grateful to Pretty who always leaves priceless gems around for me to discover, pick up and savor. She knows my love for Maya Angelou and her works so I suspect it was no accident the book was in a conspicuous place.

    This book captured my attention and immediately reminded me of my book The Short Side of Time for a couple of reasons. Both books acknowledge the influence and importance of Oprah Winfrey. Ms. Angelou dedicated her book to Oprah Winfrey “with immeasurable love” and I began my preface with “I can actually thank Oprah for this book.” Both books contain a collection of previously published short essays/articles – mine from this blog and Ms. Angelou’s from articles appearing in Essence and Ms. magazines. And it’s right there, my friends in cyberspace, that the similarities end.

    My daddy used to tell me to avoid making comparisons to anyone else because there would always be someone who could do something better than I could or someone who wouldn’t be able to quite catch up to my abilities. Needless to say, Maya Angelou is in a category all by herself when the subject is personal essays, and I will never be able to quite catch up to the sheer poetry of her writing in these intimate stories. I can, however, read them with delight.

    Many of her brief essays resonated personally with me probably because she published them in 1994 when she was 66 years old. The topics she covered as she described her own journey took me with her, and I cheered for her courage and power displayed vividly on every page. My mind meandered to the person I was in 1994 and how I would have reacted to this book when I was 48 years old. Would that white middle-aged lesbian activist understand what a blueprint Ms. Angelou’s journey could offer me when the storms of life were raging over the next quarter century of my life.

    Whether you are a youngster setting off on the journey, a middle-aged traveler  making plans for the next twists and turns, or in the third act of your life seeing the final bends and bumps in the road; I strongly recommend you treat yourself to Maya Angelou in this book or any other writings she’s done. I leave you with her thoughts on people.

    “I note the obvious differences

    between each sort and type,

    but we are more alike, my friends,

    than we are unalike.”

    Stay tuned.