I've never been one to cry a lot.
But now, I cry. I cry because of the death of a legendary jurist, Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, known to her fans and followers as RBG. This tiny woman, who became the second woman to serve on the Supreme Court, courageously battled cancer multiple times. She held it off and continued her work on the court. But as it so often does, cancer finally won. RBG carried the torch for women's equality, for LGBTQ equality, and for so many other rights that we now take for granted.
When I was a young woman, I could not get a credit card in my own name. I had to have my husband or father cosign for me. I couldn’t get a car loan in my own name. I couldn’t get a mortgage in my own name. RBG helped make these repressive practices things of the past. And as predicted, her body wasn't even cold when Moscow Mitch McConnell vowed to ram through her replacement. If the court gets a 6 to 3 conservative majority, we will certainly see the erosion of many of our civil rights.
I cry because of my own personal pain resulting from kidney stones and three rounds of treatment. But really, that pain is nothing -- a mosquito bite -- compared with the pain I and millions of other Americans feel as we watch the demise of our nation.
We cry collectively as we watch this administration no longer even attempt to hide its corruption. We cry as we watch 200,000 Americans die because the president* refused to take the steps necessary to contain spread of the virus. We cry as we watch businesses close permanently and people lose their homes and their life savings because the "chosen one" thinks he knows better than the public health experts, the epidemiologists and the scientists. We cry as the attorney general of the United States turns the Department of Justice into the president's* personal attorneys. We cry as the president* encourages violence, division and racial hatred.
We cry as the president* encourages his voters to try to vote twice. We cry as we watch him shamelessly try to buy the votes of the people of Puerto Rico, the island territory destroyed by Hurricane Maria 3 years ago. Then, he tossed them rolls of paper towels while refusing to send real aid. Now, suddenly, he wants to send money to the islanders.
We cry as the hand-picked postmaster general, a political appointee and major Rethuglican donor, destroys the US Postal Service months before an election in which record numbers of people are expected to vote by mail to minimize their exposure to the coronavirus.
There is so much about which to cry. Death. Permanent disability. Graft. Corruption. Cheating. Lies. So many lies. Threats to our very system of government. But after we finish crying, we mourn. And then we fight. We fight as if our lives depend on it. Because, after all, they do.