Skip to main content

When Amy, Amys

 Like many of the people I know, we were disgusted by the GOP power play during an election.

It was not months and months, but barely weeks and weeks.

The services for the late Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg hadn't even happened yet when the white-men-who-crave-power were salivating at the change to shove yet another conservative justice down the throats of Americans.

Judge Amy Coney Barrett is a poor replacement.

I was part of a press conference, joined with there women leaders, in the middle of Yom Kippur, to denounce this pick, again, merely weeks before the November election. In fact, people were already casting a ballot and deserved to have their voices heard.

This hearing is a sham.

This nomination is a sham, and in the couple weeks since she was announced, we notice it was also a super spreader event, resulting in even the president contracting Covid19.

It feels like these folks have been beyond gaslighting the American people.

So, regardless of how we got here, here we are and this judge who is barely a judge, is sitting before the Senate for the past three days, to have a confirmation hearing. The result of that hearing would be just days before the November election.

And Amy, Amys.

She equivocates.

She demures.

She evades.

She just sits there looking like the sick dream of every patriarchal domineering power-hungry evangelical conservative white Male in America.

And they love it.

Love her for her worn-out-uterus and her bonus Haitian adopted children. Her quiver is beyond full , this handmaid delivered on her purpose, according to the religious sect that she and her husband pledged allegiance to.

Now, to be fair, my quiver is full, I have a large family. I am a woman of faith, a M.Div, in fact, a minister, so my disgust with her is not that she is married, not that she has a large and diverse family, not even that she submits to her husband.

It is everything else.

If she were any kind of woman, in my opinion, she wouldn't let herself be a pawn in their sick game this close to the end of the election. It makes me wonder what kind of training white mothers give to white daughters that they are wet mops for their husband's whims and wishes.

Will this woman ask her husband's permission to rule on a case?

Is she that power hungry that she would do this so close to an election knowing that the American people are so strongly opposed to this pandemic confirmation?

How about the super spreader event, does she have Covid? And what about her kids that she has paraded around, often without masks, have them been exposed? Does that even matter in the quest for more white dominance in white womanhood?

What kind of woman is this woman?

She clearly opposes a woman's right to reproductive health, even when that woman's very life is at stake, and that is beyond even being Catholic, in my opinion. She is dangerous to my daughters.

She clearly did not have a problem with an employer using the N-word even as she raises two Black children. How safe are they in her home?

She clearly doesn't care if anyone else has health care, knowing she is being rushed through to do what the GOP was unable to do since the ACA was implemented to help save millions of lives.

Clearly a pandemic and 219,000+ dead Americans are not the lives she is concerned about, not very pro-life.

She said she respected the work of Justice Ginsberg and invoked her during her opening day of the confirmation hearing.

But does she, really?

This woman is every Black, Brown, and POC woman's nightmare of how insidious the Amys are.

Something just kept unsettling me.

My home office is upstairs, just off my en suite. I kept the TV on in there so I could hear while I sat at my computer and worked. 

The sound of her voice was making my skin crawl.

Her evasiveness was making me angry.

2020 and this is what we have come to.

A woman who will willingly overturn Roe v. Wade and send women back into the dark ages.

A woman who refuses to refute blatant racism.

A woman who willingly accepts corruption from an impeached president.

A woman who believes her belief system gives her the right to regulate the rest of our lives.

A woman I cannot trust.

Black women have been on the other side of the wholesome looking Amys who look like they will bake you an apple pie wearing pearls and a skirt. 

They have cried rape on our men.

They have shouted at our children integrating "their" schools.

They have yelled at our children in classrooms.

They clench their purses in elevators

They protest Black or Brown families moving into "their" neighborhoods.

They want to feel "safe."

They are the 53% who put in this nightmare because their fathershusbandsunclesbrothers convinced them a woman was not able to lead and that she would make their lives scary.

Nevermind the scary four years that have ensued.

So, no, I am not feeling very confident in this process.

I'm sure she will be confirmed.

That is how this thing is set up.

This originalist who believes I and my people are only 3/5th of a human and only then because it was a concession.

This religionist who believes my daughters' minds are not worth anything but their wombs are meant to be used, well maybe not them, given they are Black.

She is like the Amy who calls police on Black people just living.

When this Amy, all the Amys act as an Amy, it makes live extraordinarily dangerous for me.

And that is frightening more than anything that will happen on Halloween.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hannah's Song

We came together last night and sang Hannah's song. Family from California was in town, it was the night before Aunt Hannah's Home Going Celebration. We met at my house late in the evening to fellowship, remember, hug, eat, and laugh. Thom felt the love in the room and I'm sure his mom would've appreciated us doing what she did all her life - love. Aunt Hannah was a gracious woman. Her gentle spirit, sparkling eyes, and constant smile will be remembered. She has left us physically, but never spiritually. The laughter was like music in Thom's ear. For the first time in weeks I saw my cousin relax. He has been in a tornado for the past four weeks from his mother's diagnosis to her death. Even in her final stage, Aunt Hannah was granted her desire. She asked to not suffer long when it was her time to go, she had been a caregiver her whole life and I'm sure her prayer was for her son. In the last days of her life, she still greeted well wishers with a wa...

Brothers, Can we Talk?

 I'm a Black woman, born of a Black woman and a Black man. When my mother died, it was my father who nurtured me and instilled in me a sense of pride of self, of my race, of my abilities to do whatever I put my mind to do. He never imposed limitations on me as a Black woman. The only caution he ever gave me was to not burn my candle at both ends and to be mindful of my health, I am an asthmatic. He never stopped me from trying anything and always encouraged me. Daddy was a strong Black man who introduced me to Shirley Chisholm when I was a little girl. He reminded me of the fortitude of my late mother's quest for gender equality in the workplace and of the namesake who marched at Selma.  He is the one who gave me my pseudonym, Tayé. Daddy was a strong tower of empowerment and fought all the way to his last breath for social, gender, and racial justice. It is in remembering my father this morning that I'm asking the brothers, can we talk? What is it, especially those of my g...

Ashes to Ashes

 This is Ash Wednesday. For a lot of Catholics and Anglican Christians, it begins the holy season of Lent. We remember we are but dust and to dust we return, ashes to ashes.  It is a somber reminder of our humanity and the finality of life. We are a mere breath. Today, as a Hospital Chaplain Resident, I am imposing ashes on patients, family, and staff. It is a visible marker of a shared faith and belief. We look with anticipation to the finished work of salvation on the cross and in eager hope of the resurrection. As my day progressed, I noticed how much hope was in the eyes of the ones giving and receiving this reminder of our existence. It was both a somber moment and a joyful moment. Two things can exist at the same time. Like the world we find ourselves in. Even as it seems like the darkest, certainly the darkest I’ve known in my six decades on this earth. Completely imperfect as a nation, there was still a glimmer of light until the nightmare became reality. We wonder abo...