Showing posts with label Barach Obama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barach Obama. Show all posts

Sunday, March 29, 2009

ESSAY BY MERRY ELRICK

Merry Elrick
merry@datadrivenmarcom.com


This I Believe: Women’s Rights Are Human Rights

I believe in human rights. Not African-American rights. Not gay rights. Not women’s rights. All people are created equal.
Except they’re not.
All men aren’t even created equal. And women go unmentioned.
When I was in second grade, all the boys were out of the classroom for some gym-class thing except for one. That left about a dozen girls, one boy and our teacher, Miss Kubly, who wore saddle shoes and bobby socks over her stockings in winter. She told everyone to pick up his pencil.
“Miss Kubly,” I asked, “Why didn’t you say, ‘Everyone pick up her pencil?’” She explained that even with just one boy in the room one had to use the male pronoun. And this was a boy too puny to go to gym. Girls just had no pronoun power. Or any other kind.
At least Miss Kubly did not say, “Everyone pick up his or her pencil.” (Too cumbersome.) Or worse, “Everyone pick up their pencil.” (Just downright wrong.)
The lesson I learned in school that day was I am not worth mentioning. That was so long ago that Miss Kubly’s stockings had seams that looked like black lines drawn up the back of her legs. The stockings were attached by murderous metal and rubber devices that dangled at the ends of bouncing elastic strips. Unless you were a contortionist with masterful motor skills, you would most certainly fumble to secure your stockings at the back of your legs. Thank God for pantyhose and other improvements since then.
Some of those improvements led to better lives for women. Despite the language lesson I had, or perhaps because of it, I founded and ran a small business for 15 years. It’s a feat few women would have dreamed of back in the garter belt days.
As a businesswoman I was sometimes asked to join various groups of professional women, a request I always declined because these groups excluded men. I was also encouraged to apply for government grants as a minority business owner. Again, I declined.
I am a person who is a woman. I expect to be worthy of mention. I will not discriminate against others and I want no special treatment. My hope is that others will behave the same.
An apocryphal story purports that President Obama, when applying to Harvard, neglected to check the box that would describe him as a man of color. He wanted, apparently, to get in on his merits. He wanted, like I do, to be judged by the same standards as everyone else.
I cannot expect to have it both ways. I cannot be treated equally while I separate myself for the sake of privilege—even when I’ve had to suffer what others don’t. Like fumbling at the end of elastic straps for metal clips that snap up and whack me on the bone.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Where Were You on the Night Obama was Elected

With the writer’s permission I am posting this letter he wrote to his mother right after the 2008 election. Dan Moring is a young college graduate from Chicago. He lives in Washington, DC now, and was there on Nov. 4, 2008. His writing is impressive, I think.


The following is in response to his mother’s question, where were you when Obama was announced the winner of the election?

Heya Ma,

The actual moment of the election call was not terribly memorable, since I was actually mid-hop between watering holes on U St when we just heard an enormous scream of elation and people starting streaming out onto the streets. We went to the nearest bar to watch the concession/acceptance speeches. Then when we left that bar, the street was like a mob scene, with people making ad-hoc percussion instruments, chanting "O-Bam-A" and "Yes We Can."

So, with apologies to Gill Scott Heron, "The Evolution Will not be Televised."
I didn't have a camera, but there's a video on the Post website here if you want to catch a little flavor:http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/video/2008/11/05/VI2008110500629.html?sid=ST2008110301127

After boogeying in classic style at 14th and U St (the epicenter of the race riots that ravaged the city 40 years ago) for about 45 minutes, I walked my companion home and, returning back up New Hampshire Ave, hit a crowd of probably hundreds streaming down 16th Street en route to the White House.

I joined them, bouncing jauntily to the triple staccato of horn beeps (short-short-long: yes-we-can) and deeper, more complex rhythms improvised with pots and spoons; claps and stomps; cheers and chants. Along the way, total strangers hugged, slowed to give Hi-Fives to passing cars and cops, or just nod with broad grins.

As we neared Lafayette Square, the fine mist subsided and, crossing the park onto Pennsylvania Ave, with the White House darkened and the shadows of snipers crawling the roof line, I heard the chants of "Move Bush, get out the Way" and"Na-na-na-na...hey-hey-hey...good-bye" subsumed into a rousing (if totally off-key) rendition of the national anthem.

Looking around, I saw the patchwork quilt of "my America"--the "real America" that I grew up in, that I know and love. I caught a glimpse, in reflection, of the America that many of us there assembled perhaps forgot at times over the past years dominated by cynicism, profligacy, betrayal, and distrust--between the government and the people, and among the people themselves.

But beyond that penumbra, so perfectly symbolized by a darkened White House, I saw reflected in the assembled group the mathematical fact that any third grader understands--Addition is simpler than Division; the Greatest Common Factor is easier to find than the Lowest Common Denominator.

People of many ages (though primarily young--it was 2 am), all colors, ethnicities, and styles--festooned with Obama gear, American flags, and above all, broad smiles and sparkling (albeit, again, sometimes glassy) eyes. People excited by that basic concept--the heart of free will--Yes We Can.

The crowds I'm sure are parodied by certain sectors of the voting and non-voting populace, in the United States and elsewhere. But we are not motivated simply by a personality ("celebrity," as the zero-sum line went), nor by hatred and rage, nor by dewy-eyed naivete. We've seen things change drastically since we cast our first votes as citizens, we know some reasons why (there's blame to share), and we think we can do better. One thing is certain--We're sure as hell going to try.

My brother is often fond of saying, "just because you can doesn't mean you should." As my thoughts on the exercise of individual freedom have developed over the years, I always viewed this "Can/Should" distinction somewhat negatively--as the dividing line between liberty and license. The freedom to swing my fist ends at the tip of your nose. But sometimes if you can, you absolutely should.

As we come down from the elation and catharsis of that moment a few nights ago, "Yes We Can" morphs into “Yes we Should,” and ultimately "Yes We Must."

Now, as never before, we have a view of our past and we see what's brought us to this point, good and bad, and we see where we're heading. It looks rough.

In looking at the enormity of the problems facing us--all of us--we no longer have the luxury to retreat to our respective corners and curse the darkness descending on our future. We must stoke the flames that brought us to this point, and light the way to our better tomorrow. With those ballots cast, we began to write the next chapter in our history. It will have lots of twists and turns, but I think, if we get all the characters involved, it can still be a great tale.

So yeah, I think I'll remember it like that.

Much Love

Dan