I Want Members of Congress to Have Courage (and they need to if they want to keep their jobs)

Why did I march?

Some folks have suggested it is an emotional response. OK. I’ll admit to being shaken in November – not only by the election of Trump, but by the idea that so many of my fellow citizens would vote for him. I am angry. I am scared about what the future holds for the next four years, and well beyond.

Maybe this is desperation. But desperation is not all bad. When there are no simple logical solutions, perhaps the desperate act is logical. To do nothing while Trump appoints cabinet secretaries to departments they are hostile to is not acceptable to me. To do nothing while he dismantles the Affordable Care Act without a soft landing to millions who depend on it is not acceptable. To do nothing while the GOP pushes through tax cuts that will explode the deficit as a pay-off to the wealthy is not acceptable.

I need to do something and marching was something to do.  I’m hoping it has value. If it does not, hopefully the next thing I do will. The political process is not limited to elections. This is happening now. I’m not waiting two years to take action.

What do I hope to accomplish?

I have no hopes that a march will drive a revolt or a dismantling of the electoral college. I know Trump will not be impeached over any of the things we know today. I know he doesn’t care about me or my concerns.  And whether I get 10 million people to sing Kumbaya in perfect harmony is irrelevant to that fact.

But, I have hope for Republican leaders. They are the only ones who can slow Trump down from some of his most destructive tendencies. Fortunately, I don’t think many GOP congressmen are really on board with Trump. But they’re scared of him. He and his followers can end their careers. Trump has leverage over them, and many of them lack the political courage to stand up to him. For example, after the “pussy grab” tape came out, many of the GOP politicians piled on Trump. He then struck back. His numbers went down. Their numbers went down more. And they folded, with some notable exceptions like McCain and Sasse.

While it doesn’t say much for their character, it does give us a possible path forward. If Congressmen are too cowardly to cross Trump, we need to make it just as bad politically to side with him. A massive progressive/moderate resurgence is the only path to that end. Maybe that wasn’t just 15,000 -20,000 progressives marching for an event. Maybe it is 15,000+ foot soldiers signing up for duty. The 100+ people on these two buses are spending 60 hours away from any comforts of home, including showers or beds, to have their voices heard. And they’re all smiling today. There is a political movement coming for any congressman who cowers from Trump. We’re saying, “Fear us more than Trump.”  If they want to keep their jobs, they will need to hear us.

I Had to March; There was No Question Whether I Should

Photo Credit – Sara Sawatzki, Open Road Photographer 2017

I am a Mother, Grandmother, Spouse, Aunt, Cousin, Daughter, Granddaughter and organic farmer (for 25 years).

I had to march; there was no question whether I should. I’ll be 70 years old in July and I have experienced the women’s rights movement and what was fought for in the 60’s. I’ve seen women’s rights slowly evolve so women have so many choices not thought possible for my generation. To see our rights erode for my daughters, seven granddaughters, and all women of all religions, cultures, sexuality, economic status is not acceptable. We have much more to do and shouldn’t have to be spending our time defending our rights that we have. We do not have equal pay, no matter what white males say.

I marched for environmental and social justice. A healthy and social environment will help ensure a positive future for future generations, men and women.

I Marched to Join Others Who Would Speak Out

Photo Credit – Sara Sawatzki, Open Road Photographer 2017

It was a last minute decision!  It wasn’t that I was unsympathetic to the announced Women’s March on January 7, 2017, but I, as too often is the case, didn’t know if my marching would be of any significance.  That morning I watched on television many men, women, and children in the eastern state begin to gather as the marches started.  The closest march that I was aware of was to be held at 2:00 p.m. in Lincoln, some 60 miles away from our small rural town of Geneva. It was 10:30 a.m. when I made the decision to march.  I called several friends, and by 11:00 a.m. we had a group of five, four women (all grandmothers) and one young man (a junior in college), ready to take part in “the unknown.”

We drove to Lincoln and joined a huge crowd at the University of Nebraska Student Union.  We had no idea how many were expected, but we later learned the organizers had hoped for 1,000, 2,000 pre-registered, and approximately 4,000 marched.  It was a moving sight to see multi-generational family groups, many men, and various ethnic groups joining the “women.”

I marched because I have two granddaughters who are approaching the age when they will want and need to have a choice about their reproductive rights.

I marched because one of those granddaughters attends Omaha Central, the most ethnically diverse high school in the state.  She is bi-racial, but since the “opening of Trump’s Pandora’s box” of anti-women, anti-racial, and anti-LGBT hatred, she and her friends have been accosted with remarks never heard before.  It is as though some Americans have been given permission to spew words of hatred, bigotry, or misogyny that have been long suppressed.

I marched because I value the right to vote, and I fear that voter rights will be negatively impacted by confirmation of some of Trump’s cabinet nominations.

I marched because I was a teacher in the public schools for over 30 years, and I believe that education is a right of all, not just the rich.

I marched because I am the daughter of a farmer who honored the land, and I believe that the position the Trump administration has on climate change is uninformed and dangerous for the future of our race.

I marched; I have called senators; I have worked in my community to promote positive ideas.  In all my 76 years I have never feared to speak out, and I marched to join others who would speak out against the potential horrors of this Trump presidency.

A Dangerous President

Photo Credit – Sara Sawatzki, Open Road Photographer 2017

I, a western Nebraskan, am asking you, my representatives and Senators, why we citizens need to go down with the current USA President? Who is controlling the President–Bannon or Putin?

Why does the President’s counselor and press secretary lie for him almost daily?

What does Putin have over the President that we do not yet know?

Why does the President think building a wall would be beneficial to anyone?

Why did the President have such a vengeance toward Gold Star father Khizr Khan that he put a ban on Muslims entering the country?

Why would you agree to have a pipeline that can endanger our state’s aquifer?

Why does the President use negativity and scare tactics to make his sick points?

Why don’t you pay attention to what Bannon and the President are doing while they set up a smoke screen of Tweets and executive orders?


I Marched to Empower All

I marched.  I didn’t want to.  Didn’t want to stand in a crowd (or in a disappointing small gaggle) of “protesters.”  I didn’t want to chant slogans or wave signs. But I did.  Because Donald Trump had encouraged and stimulated the absolute worst habits of machismo and white supremacist masculinity, the worst disdain that the wealthy have for the poor, the ugliest greed that views our natural world as only raw material for churning out money (to the 1%).  Because he was the most obvious antithesis of Christian principles.

I marched because I am a 74 year-old woman and my heart was broken by the election of a hate-mongering demagogue to tear our society apart, into US and THEM. And as a woman familiar with how it hurts and degrades women to be seen as obedient house-puppies, sex bunnies and underlings (“Just grab them!”), I knew that women would always be THEM.  Unless we could resist.

I marched because although I grew up dirt-poor in rural Nebraska, I was privileged.  Privileged because I saw my grandmothers and my mother as equal partners in their marriages: the women grew and preserved and prepared all the food and clothing for the families: chickens, eggs, butter, gardens, orchard trees. They had strong arms and clear minds and great open hearts.  My maternal grandmother always fed the “hobos” who came from the nearby railroad tracks. This was the Good Life, and I will always fight for it.

I also began to learn about whole categories of people who shared the oppression and cruel contempt often dished out for women, and saw it for what it was–blind prejudice & the love of having power over other people.

My family women were generous, fearless, practical, physically strong.  I grew up with the privilege of knowing myself whole, so the idiocy of every careless damaging dirty attitude toward women as lesser, as ‘things,’ and as slaves to their reproductive organs insults me.
As a privileged woman, I resisted the message I got in the fifties–that I should be careful not to get higher grades than men, not to run around playing sports because it wasn’t feminine, the boys wouldn’t like me.  And surely a girl won’t try to go to college if she was poor and if she wasn’t looking for a husband. I did.  I graduated in 1965 from the University of Nebraska, PBK, summa cum laud, having won a National Merit Scholarship, been on the State Scholastic Team of the highest Regents’ Exam scores.  Every step of that education was a march of protest.  The stories I could tell about date rape & about predatory male professors & male supremacy ideology are enough to make any woman today march against the loss of the progress feminists have made in the last 50 years!  Donald Trump represents that loss to me, as do the many who lap up his dirty stories as delicious.
I marched because I felt the weight of every contemptuous dismissal I ever had to fight as a young woman.  I knew women are at least equal to men, that biological gender is not destiny.  I marched because Trump represented every rich man who ever was amused by my futile dreams of social justice and equality for all.

I marched because I have known and loved and admired African-American men and women, and watched their pain as their own children were harassed, endangered, imprisoned.  Racism is un-American; we are supposed to believe in equality.  I marched because Trump’s rhetoric about immigrant “rapists” is like the rhetoric of Nazi ideology about Jew and Gypsy, Communist and “Pervert,”  and all the ‘unfit’ or resistant.  My son’s father was Jewish; I witnessed anti-semitism firsthand when my son was harassed at a summer science camp because he “had killed Jesus.”  A Jewish temple was bombed nearby when my son was in middle school.  The fear and distrust he felt was injurious to him;  hateful prejudice costs more than our country can afford.

I marched because I have known and loved single women trying to raise and nurture children–women struggling to work for lower pay than men and trying to feed, clothe and shelter children when medical care and childcare took more than 50% of their monthly net pay.  Dentists?  Maybe a free clinic.  Niceties like books (library trips take time), like a movie outing as a family. like travel to visit grandparents?  Women pushed to the edge of their limits.

Opposition to a decent minimum wage, to equal wages, to affordable healthcare, to government budgets that provide affordable childcare and education?  Those things are, to me, the antithesis of a democratic community because they disregard poverty and admire and promote selfishness.  Opposition to voting rights, to equality,  to democracy, to the service of our great public agencies and institutions: Donald Trump’s election signals to me that the selfish and arrogant of this country are willing to throw away everything that we Americans could be proud of.

So I marched.  Because if you don’t share generously, you are not part of the community.  If you don’t love and care about all people and want to see peace and security and health for all. you are not part of a democracy.  You want to isolate yourself from the crowds of those unlike yourself.  You think perhaps that the wealthier you are, the better you are.  Health, including a healthy world to live in, education, economic equality and generous decency:  those are the goals for which I march.

Before Trump was elected many Republicans kept a principled distance, but once he was crowned the winner, it seemed to me opportunism and the love (and fear) of power overcame many legislators’ resistance.  I march in order to cry out to all those in power: “Heal this lesion in democracy, this threat to America the beautiful, the kind, the healthy.”

I am a County Supervisor and I deal with sexual discrimination.

I am a County Supervisor and deal with sexual discrimination on a continuous basis. I have been excluded from casual lunches, not afforded privileges offered to men (Executive Session) by male board members, listened to valid complaints from women who were a part of discriminatory job interviews; had the complaints of those women dismissed by male board members, and attacked verbally in the newspaper by a WOMAN for speaking out against the men who asked sexually discriminating questions in employment interviews.

Our current president is the epitome of a male expressing sexually discriminating statements with no negative consequences for him.  Women remain underpaid & underrepresented in our government and corporations.

What we must continue to do is speak out against sexual discrimination; be unafraid to speak the truth; support each other, call out people, men and women, that make grievous statements against women