As the tide of misogamy sweeps toward us, I’m noticing—as perhaps some of you have—that women are falling silent. All the voices coming out of Washington are those of middle-aged or older white men; the few women in this administration are echoes, chosen to perform that function faithfully. And we are all influenced to some degree by the sounds coming from what we may view as the seat of democracy.
Of course the capitol is not really the seat of democracy, if it ever has been. The tiny number of the electorate who vote has seen to that, even without the widespread proof of vote stealing and gerrymandering to disenfranchise dark-skinned people. Our failure to ensure that the U.S. government reflects its people means that the capitol is the seat of power, raw, but not of democracy. That is left to New England towns and a few states like New Mexico.
But still, we are intimidated. The voices coming from Washington are so loud, so crude, so self-assured, like the voices of the abusers nearly all of us have heard at some point in our lives. Understandably we are tempted to run and hide, but that won’t do now.
Artists and writers like me have legitimate reasons to stay out of the more physical forms of resistance. We must hang on to our hard-won faith that our work is the best offering we can make to this troubled world.
But that doesn’t mean silence. We bear witness every hour of every day. I just printed out, in Spanish and English, a “Know your Rights” document to carry in my pocket. How many of those threatened by ICE know they are not obliged to let agents into their houses? Nor are they obliged to reveal their status, or show drivers’ licenses, unless they are driving. They have the same constitutional right we all have to remain silent under questioning.
In many cities, schools, churches, homes and rallies are places of sanctuary. We will count on administrators to stop ICE agents at the doors.
But that alone may not be enough. A woman who is very dear to me went a step further in Chicago where she was walking her dog when she witnessed a young man being hassled by an ICE agent. Without hesitating, she walked up to the agent and said, “I know this young man and I’m giving him my lawyer’s card. She’s tough, you don’t want to tangle with her.” The agent went to his car and drove off.
We owe the people around us, on whom we depend for so much of our daily work, cleaning, gardening, cooking, tending our children, this degree of courage.
And please when you are in any kind of gathering, speak up. I’ve noticed that when I ask a question of make a comment in a public forum, other women follow me. It’s little enough to ask: to let our voices be heard in rooms that are largely inhabited by men.
Our witness, and our voices, matter. We are the live wires, carrying not the deadly sparks that ignite wildfires but the equally hot currents of truth.
Download English-language flyer (.pdf)
I was witness to an ice arrest yesterday at 6 pm in the edge of my front yard right next to
the very visible newly repainted chrome yellow fire hydrant.