Tag Archives: sexism

D.E.I. and I

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I have stayed away from words, 

breathless, in my grief,

for too long.

Diversity is my faith.

Equity is my hope.

Inclusion is my love.

Each breath I take is a promise

that things will be better someday.

And, they have been for a time,

in places expanding across space,

across multiple divides.

In a school, then university.

In a church, then a community.

Across a state, on national forums

Each breath inhaled the hate,

expanded and expelled love in its place.

Breaths took down barriers, created programs,

enacted policies, changed syllabi,

created courses and news ways of seeing,

new avenues of progress, new ways of being.

The backlash always came,

in drips and drabs, all the same.

But this! This! It is a fearsome game.

It is not D.E.I. which they decry.

They want to see us hold our breath

and die.

They SNAP food from the mouths of babes.

They ask the aged and disabled to work their own miracles,

heal themselves without medic-aid,

waste away, and die.

They place tariffs on those who stood at our side.

Making us all pay more for less to save their pride.

They fill their pockets with our labor,

changing coins to crypto for their greedy favor.

They extort heroes who fight to protect freedom world-wide

so that dictators and killers can be by their side.

They miss the days when the few controlled the many.

They refuse to compete, or share even one penny;

pennies earned from our labor, not theirs.

Lately, it seems we have not got a prayer.

We seldom did. But, do not despair.

What we did have was the freedom to try.

Now, our hard-won freedom to speak and act is denied.

We are being denied the right to even try.

We still have one another, and our God-given rights.

We will never allow those to be shoved aside.

And at the end of this life we shall hold hands and sigh

We tried. 

We tried.

We tried!

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WITHIN

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I thought I could not write because of my pain.

Not, so.

I hesitate to write because of my disdain.

You know.

I think you have may felt it before.

It rises not from my within.

It rises from your within. It is your most-feared sin.

It sleeps in the place your secrets are kept

of all the times you felt inept.

While I simply raced along your side,

trying to match all the runners with pride.

But, you did not want me there.

That is your eternal prayer.

You thought I should stay in my place.

You feared I could actually win the race.

You deep-down know how weak that feels.

You deep-down know how foul the appeal

to those who would embrace

every runner in the race.

So, you create fake news and tell stories

that cause the runners and watchers to worry

that the race is fixed, corrupt and costly.

You can only lose if there is nothing left to gain.

You prefer full destruction than your personal pain.

You care not the cost.

You cannot handle a loss.

It is you I disdain.

You, I hear explain in rambling detail the goodness,

rightness, advancement of hate.

You who shuts doors and padlocks the gates.

You, I watch burn books and erase history.

You, who imagines a world draped in mystery

where no scientific fact

can remain intact.

My words cannot be allowed to create

more fear, more sense of loss, more hate.

My words could darken the stars.

My words could start wars.

That I cannot allow and must abate.

I cannot add one ounce to your tons of hate.

If you think these words apply to one man,

you sadly misunderstand.

They apply to all of us, to me and to you.

We created the world we try to eschew.

In our deep spaces are we mere bagatelle?

Are we a nation without a story to tell?

We need not seek nor accept our ruination.

We have a Constitution, amended to perfect our nation.

We race not to win a trophy nor prize.

The race does not rely on crowd size.

We run to show how races can be won

when runners align and voters cheer on

every runner who flies by.

By my definition

the greatest competition lies within.

Racism is our Original Sin.

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THE FIGHT WITHIN

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The Cold War taught school kids to “duck-and-cover”

to save their lives, not from bullets fired by fellow Americans;

But from Russian bombs put in place

to put America in its place

in every available space

where bombs could reach our shores.

President Kennedy intervened to stop the ships

carrying missiles to fill silos built in Cuba.

School kids stopped to pray that day

before being sent home to “be with their families.”

I recall that day when annihilation of my nation

became too real to hide away.

Khruschev shouted “We will bury you” as he beat his shoe

where he sat at a desk in the UN.

He foretold our future there and then.

He said we will “destroy you from within.”

That is when the great pirates began to grow rich

in their race shore to shore running

arms, and drugs, and sex slaves galore;

depositing money passed hand-to-hand

into banks off-shore until it washed up and over 

the World Bank, its monolith waves too big to ignore.

The dish on American tables ran away with the spoon

feeding the greed of a growing American oligarchy.

It has taken my lifetime to measure

the true loss of America’s treasure

amassed in stealth by pirates dressed as lobbyists,

and PACS funded by dark money

who claim the false goal to live free in our fragile democracy, 

our greatest wealth.

The pirates stole into control of our country 

with entertainment instead of news.

Encouraging citizens to sleep and not be woke to the tragedy

of pirates placed within a government grown too thin

by tax cuts for the pirates like Trump, Vance, Bannon, Musk, Ramaswamy,

Hegseth, Gabbard, Alito and so many others.

Leaders now promise to deregulate all guards against their pirate theft.

And a sleeping nation nods “yes,” ignoring the pleas of true patriots, left bereft.

The pirates have  opened the gates and our Ship of State is un-moored.

They smile and smirk with strong-men and must not be ignored.

We cannot simply give up and give in

watching our country destroyed from within,

while Putin and America’s pirates count coins and grin.

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TRY TO DREAM

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I try to keep dreaming.

But, nightmares interrupt

and catch the seam of hope

and fray the edges 

of the dream.

The night unravels hopes.

Morning brings new light,

but very little, if any, insight

as I try to piece together

a new garment to weather

the storms brewing overhead.

Nothing makes sense.

Every hand is out for cash

to fight the good fight

already lost, and still fraught

with the need to try  

to stand,

to grasp hands,

to still the fright.

Yet, dreams turn to nightmares

day after day and

night after night.

Joy can only bend so far 

and grace hold up heads and hearts

only so long before the silent song

erupts in outrage and disgust.

We do what we must. 

But, dream ? I am no longer sure

that dreams will endure.

All I can promise is

I shall try to keep dreaming

forevermore.

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I AM CLEAR NOW

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I no longer awaken thinking I had died during the night. 

No more heavy weight in my chest dragging breath down.

No more lead-bottomed stomach trying to turn fear over.

No more panic tightening limbs positioned to run.

No more thinking  thoughts unable to connect.

I am clear now.

Righteous anger replaces my new-found ability to hate.

Courage courses through veins relieved of pain.

Love for others suffering alongside me on common ground abounds.

A coalition of resistance finds strengthened legs and spine.

Brains calm and stay alert and plan how to go up and not down.

I am clear now.

I see the game to disarm and disarray all opposition.

I see the realization victory by evil forces always subsides.

I see the ability of good hearts to speed the failure along.

I see creativity lead ideas ahead, instead of repeating past retreats.

I am clear now.

Here.

Now.

Let me show you.

Together.

 We can move mountains

of greed and fear and doubt.

I am clear now.

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SEXISM 2024

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Better to wait at the gate?

The temptation is to lift the latch and enter.

It is, after all, a public space.

But women know guard dogs lie in wait

on the other side of the gate.

Thus, carefully, we negotiate

each step along the way,

fearful of unleashed dogs nipping at our heels,

ready to tear apart our bodies and our dreams.

And, when they hear our screams

they say, “I had no idea.”

Plausible deniability is their way.

Men, and women too weak to lift latches, 

deny that sexism is at play.

They laugh and joke at our fright.

Then simply go on their way,

as they believe it is their sole right.

Anyone who is not Christian.

Anyone who is not white.

Anyone who would lift latches

and move beyond the gate;

only does so, when they can no longer wait

for justice and progress, 

which lie beyond the gate,

and the only place 

where their suffering can abate.

Are those who lift latches “the enemy within”?

Lift latches in the safest space.

Then, keep the gates open.

It is not yet too late!

Vote!

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CONNECTED

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Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are so huge they force us to mourn.

Some losses sift sinew and bone,

ideals and beliefs, tattered and worn.

Some losses pull hearts apart

smiling tears of grief, we feel all alone.

We pretend such loss is not our own

when watched on screens, viewed from afar.

But, connection is more than geography.

Some losses cross borders we cannot see.

Drought, floods and storms floor us all equally.

Bombs rain down on other cities 

and beat us all bloody, in hidden anatomy.

Threads bind us together in an ethernet.

One stitch connecting us here and there, 

of which we are determinedly unaware.

Instead we pretend, through word and prayer,

when what we really must do is give a care.

Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are too great to ignore.

For, when we do, they lead to war.

Like children we make up games

and pretend life is merely a game to play.

Business and politics play out games’ themes.

Media reports but no one referees.

The games of politics and war become a melee.

But, life is much more than a game to play.

Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are too great to ignore.

Our votes are not tokens to be tossed in a loss.

Our votes are connections which must not be lost.

Some losses are too great to be borne.

Some losses are too great to ignore.

Please, stop playing long enough

to go vote on behalf of ALL of us.

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TEAR DOWN THE WALLS

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Let me tell you. Being a woman who is fully human is not a given. It is always a hard-won position. Too many dismiss women as not fully human. Women and their ideas are called “empty-headed.” Women are called “weak-willed.” Women are called “frail.” Men are are not thought to brainless or empty-headed. Men are not thought to lack willpower. Men are not expected to be weak. There are stronger and more respectful words for men. I am all for respecting men. I only ask for the same in return. I do not always get that respect. Even if I had remained in my hometown, married a “nice Italian-Catholic boy” which was my parents’ most fervent hope, I would not have been able to avoid such disrespect. But, I might have had a man to come to my defense. More likely, not. Men know how to avoid a fight. Their lives depend on reconciliation to  bullies. Male aggression can be a fierce and unpredictable experience; especially, by men with gangs behind them. 

Bullies come in all guises. They are not just “street toughs” with cigarette packs stored in the rolled-up sleeves of their tee shirts, tatooed sleeves exposed in warning messages as in my childhood neighborhood. Boys and girls both learned to give them a wide berth. Bullies also exist in board rooms, school rooms, and court rooms.

I did not stay and be a well-behaved little girl all my life. I became a lawyer. I entered courtrooms where early-on I was usually the only woman to make an appearance on a client’s behalf that day. Maya Wiley, spoke of her experience as a lawyer yesterday, in an appearance on MSNBC. Ms. Wiley carries two strikes against her. She is not only female; but, like former Prosecutor and Attorney General of California Kamala Harris, she is  a woman of color. She is Black. She lives in a world where the unspoken message is, “If you are Black, step back.” This is the silent message in the brain of too many Americans. I am a white woman. Yet, I find some empathy in our positions as a female.

Ms. Wiley mentioned episodes in her practice of law as a federal district attorney which matched my own experience. The judge, despite her presence at the Justice department table ready to plead her case, pretended not to know she was an attorney. The judge dismissed her entire identity in that moment. He cut her. She bled. She still bleeds.

On several occasions early in my career I made an appearance on behalf of a client. I sat with other attorneys, all men, in the courtroom waiting for my case to be called. It was called and I approached the Bench. “Good morning, your Honor, I am Louise Annarino, an attorney with the Legal Aid Society. This is my client…the plaintiff in the case before you today.” Standard introduction. Not a standard response from the judge, however. Instead he said with a smirk toward my opposing counsel, a man, “Young lady, you cannot just waltz in here without a lawyer. Come back after you get one. Next!” 

Holding back my anger at his attempt to shame and dismiss me…and my female client…from “his” courtroom, I answer, “ Your Honor, I am an attorney. I am representing this woman who is my client. Let me repeat for you that I am a lawyer from the Legal Aid Society.” He responded,

“And, I told you you must be a lawyer to represent this client.” By this time my client leaned in and whispered to me, “I thought you were a lawyer!” I could barely hear her over the laughter of the male attorneys seated behind me awaiting their cases to be called. The judge laughed with them. I did not. I said, “Perhaps you are not listening to me, or are hard of hearing. I shall give you the befit of the doubt.” I am a licensed attorney in the state of Ohio and I am not going anywhere.” He heard my case. My client had her successful day in court. We both bled that day.

I returned to the office and told my colleagues what had happened. A woman attorney said, “Oh my, I forgot to warn you, we women always carry our license with us and lay them on the bench before we start.” I took my license off the wall and put it into my briefcase. I wish I could say that was the only episode, but it was not. Not every judge, nor every attorney cut me. But, I still bled. I bleed writing this account. All women bleed. We have become experts at stanching the flow. Right now, you are thinking of jokes about our menses ever month. Stop it! Those bleeds bring new life into the world. We honor those bleeds. We do not honor the dishonor of men cutting us down to size where we can be ignored as not fully human, not fully equal; cut and bled.

Kamala Harris was interviewed my Mika Byrezezinski at a Know Your Value Conference in San Francisco describing what it was like to face barriers of discrimination and break down walls. She said, “‘When you break things, it is painful. You get cut, and you bleed, and it will be worth it — But be very clear. It will be and can be a very painful process.’ Kamala Harris knows this. Maya Wiley knows this. I know this. Every woman who breaks down barriers knows this. Women break down barriers every day…int their homes, at their businesses, in boardrooms, in school rooms; and yes, in courtrooms. They break down barriers in friendship relationships, in love relationships,  in business relationships. We still do not have an ERA (Equal Rights Amendment). Why do men need barriers from women? We love them. We respect them. We honor them. It is time for them to do the same. And to those women, too afraid to break down such barriers, we get it.  We know the position you are in. We bleed for you, too.

We say to all people, as Reagan said to Khrushev, “Tear down this wall” so that none of us need bleed ever again. Vote for Kamala Harris in November. We need each other. We need each other healthy, whole and safe.

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PAVED ROADS

Station Road rebuilding 2 by Jonathan Wilkins is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

The road to success is paved with cash.

Numbers add up with each step.

Roads are blown to dust

when there is no money to keep them up.

Campaigns are long roads in America.

The longer the road, the higher the cost.

Those who run races along America’s roadways

are not so fleet-footed as they appear.

Their feet often slide on cash piled too high.

Their feet often slow on cash piled too low.

Whenever you wonder “why”, follow the money,

its ebb and flow, its surrogate paths

to hide those in the know.

Senators and Congressmen cannot always follow

the path of a lead runner when the cash is low.

They find new paths where money will cushion

a challenging and uphill election or re-election.

Still wondering “why?” And who decides?

Ask the right questions. Swallow your pride.

Then you will know. You are along for a ride.

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USE YOUR WORDS

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How often we tell children

“Use your words.”

But, we forget too easily

that words have power

only if they are heard, 

and not dismissed breezily.

Men decided long ago

not to listen to women.

So many lies are told

to quiet women’s voices.

Eve has never been forgiven

for opening men’s eyes 

to painful truths.

Women’s voices are not more shrill.

Women’s screams are not made

to give men their thrills.

Women’s truths are too often

pushed aside to save male pride.

Doors are slammed shut

against voices women can trust.

“Use your words?”

How soon we forget.

Pain is the great motivator

of forgetfulness.

It deadens speech.

It silences words.

Bullies remind us of our pain

to shut our mouths

and drown truth out.

“Use your words!”

Do not forget their power

in the kitchen, in the bedroom,

in the schoolroom, in the boardroom.

“Use your words,” minute by minute,

hour after hour, until the day comes

you  can vote your own power

to “use your words.”

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