Soapbox

One thing his opponents agree on is that they hate him. Ohh, how they hate him, with a spittle-flecked ferocity that far out-strips any hatred we held for their guy. But why? You scratch your head, ask them- what is it about him that you hate so much? and they'll tell you "We hate him because, because… um…"

We hate him because he's a socialist!
    ….which he isn't. not even close. This is a word they thoroughly and proudly refuse to comprehend the meaning of, but they use it because they're sure it means "evil"  and "freedom-destroyer" which depends, I guess, on your definition of freedom.
We hate him because he's going to take away our guns!
     …which he isn't, hasn't said a word about it, though given the number of their buddies who threaten him with assassination, maybe he should.
We hate him because he's raised our taxes!
     …except he has lowered them- but that's impossible, and irrelevent, because he's a democrat so therefore he has raised taxes, just as all the Republicans who are raising their taxes must really be lowering them, because everyone knows it always works that way.
We hate him because he's bankrupting the country!
     …except that studies show the stimulus package helped. Their own party's decades of corporate welfare, tax loopholes and bloated military spending did much more damage than unemployment extensions, a few road projects and some extra cash to keep our teachers working ever did.

We hate him because he's anti- business and is killing jobs!
     …except he's the only one who has managed to create any jobs at all, and he's been pro-business and anti-regulation and reform to such an extent that many in his own party shake their heads in despair.
Death panels, then! We hate him because he's going to make death panels that will decide who lives and who dies.
     …if you want a death panel, look no futher than the roster of  Republicans voting to take away a woman's right to have an abortion to save her life. And what is lobbying to kill the Affordable Care Act if not a death panel? Sorry- that flea-bitten dog named "death panel" belongs to you.
We hate him because he's trying to take away our freedom of religion!
     …. except that nothing he has done interfers with their right to believe what they choose and to live their own lives accordingly. One person's religious freedom ends where another life begins, and they are the ones who too often fail to respect that boundary.

We hate him because he is weak; he ended a war and appeases terrorists!
     …except he has been surprisingly militant, taking out, one by one, the top eschelon of those labeled enemies of America (and more than a few innocent bystanders) with rather chilling  efficiency.
We hate him because of all his horrible, dangerous policies,
     …many of which were policies they proposed themselves a few years ago and were cheerleaders for until he signed on to them.
We hate him because he's a Kenyan!
     …except of course he's not. No one even actually believes that anyway but the kind of folks who are desperate to keep the mask in place long after the costume party has ended. Others may say it, may answer that way on polls but you can see in their eyes- they're not that stupid, they know it isn't true.
Well, we hate him because he's Muslim!
     …Oh come on. He  has attended a Christian church all his life. What part of that seems Muslim? This reasoning also presumes that being a member of the Muslim faith is, in itself a reasonable cause to hate and revile him and millions of people on earth (whereas hating someone because they're a bigoted, close-minded Christian is just ridiculous).
We hate him because he wants to murder babies!
     …which to anyone who has ever seen him with children is just patently moronic . He's the one trying to feed them: their party is the one cutting infant nutrition programs!
We hate him because he has made the world a more dangerous place
     …except by every measure of every group except theirs, he hasn't. In fact most of the rest of the world trusts him, finds him careful, reasoned, honest.
     
Why then do they hate him, this quiet, smiling, thoughtful man?

    They will tell you that they hate him because he is too smart, too foreign, too devisive, too savage,  a communist, a fascist, a communist fascist.    
    They hate him because he's the worst president this country has ever had- how else would you describe a Kenyan Muslim socialist gun-stealing tax-raiser? They clench their fists and brandish the second ammendment and list you a dozen different justifications for their hate based on a dozen proveable lies.
    Many will eagerly admit to thinking he is the anti-christ or is possessed by demons- yes yes, they'll cop to that one in a minute!
    But the one reason for their hatred that you must never, ever dare to suggest, the one outrageous and over-the-top accusation which leaves them shocked and insulted and unable to figure out where you got such a ridiculous and untrue idea and which they will not tolerate you even hinting at is that they hate him for being the one thing he actually IS:

Black.

"You belong to me"
The words simply escaped, kicked past the boundary of lips,
brushed by the guards of convention
and presented themselves as I stepped into his embrace.

He had only been gone 4 days, just a few hours away by plane
but with every nerve now fine-tuned to the thousands of ways
the world can take someone from you,
I found his return more than just the reestablishment
of companionship and routine.
For me his absence felt like something of irreplaceable value had been stolen, 
something rightfully and unquestionably mine,
like my voice or my fingerprints had been
slipped from my back pocket while my attention was elsewhere
only to turn up again here in the baggage claim area of the Columbus airport
looking fit, slightly tanned and cheerful.
"I missed you too" he said,
amusement in his voice because he didn't understand
hadn't been awake to see, didn't hear the echoing emptiness
that had threatened everything like the scream of an approaching missile…
never quite saw what was missing
until it had already come back.

He didn't recognize me.

When I touched his shoulder and said "Do you know who I am?"
he turned his head, smiled at me and said "Hi"
with no recognition in his eyes.
I am no stranger to concussion,
have seen short term memory loss before,
but there is nothing short-term about me and him.
For 35 years he has known my name
known my body, my joys and fears, my heart
but he just licked his bloody lips and said "Hi"
with the same odd cheerfulness he displays
when the doctor introduces himself
and  fear probed into my heart
sharper and colder than the phlebotomist's needle
penetrated his scraped and bruised right arm.

Outwardly he is a patchwork of shallow scrapes and torn skin
but occult and sinister damage lurks inside:
a spider-web of cracked bones around the eyes
and underneath, swollen folds of grey tissue
surrounding misfiring neurons.
They tell me they're going to do a scan to see
how much is lost, what to expect to come back.
If the scan is good, they'll  keep him 'for observation'
but what I observe now makes my fingers grow cold.
His hands, so nimble andd expressive,
flutter and wave above him in constant, restless motion,
like small birds seeking to escape from this unhappy trauma bay.
I reach for them, need to hold them and him here.
He takes my hand when I catch his- I wonder if it is simple reflex-
and I want to  cling to it, but his hands are bleeding from a dozen places
so I gingerly slip my fingers between his
lean forward and brush them with trembling lips.

"What happened?" he wonders again, apparently in no pain.
"What's going on here?"
I've lost you, and you've  lost me I want to wail.
"You crashed your bike" I offer instead.
"Well, that sucks" he replies cheerfully.
I dab a drop of blood away from his cheek
and whisper "Yes, it does…"

Dedicated to the governor of Pennsylvania, who suggested that women upset at being forced to have an unnecessary internal ultrasound should 'close their eyes',  and to the Georgia legislator who wants to outlaw abortion even for a woman carrying a dead fetus because 'cows and pigs do it all the time' , and to the gentleman in Wisconsin who wants to outlaw divorce and says that women who are abused by their husbands should just 'remember the good times', and… and…. and…. 

 
"Just close your eyes" he said.
Close your eyes and maybe it won't hurt so much.
Maybe you can make the shame go away if you don't have to look at it,
don't have to meet the eyes of the doctor who is ready to violate you,
who is no longer allowed to address your pain and need,
Close your eyes and deal with it because from this point on,
health care for you is nothing more than a power play,
the political blood sport of men, drenched in your own desperate blood.

Close your eyes, ladies, and think of Jesus
who wants you to know that you are a sinner- and a slut
for having dreams beyond the ones given to you by your pastor,
your employer, and your governor.
See, they are worried that you might get an abortion mistakenly
thinking it's a treatment for the flu or something,
eager to brand you a wanton  for having sex at all,
a Jezebel for  enjoying pleasure without consequence…
the way that they get to.

Close your eyes and pretend that you are still a person
with the right to make your own, most intimate decisions about your future,
Close your eyes and remember  when planning your own family
wasn't considered dirty,
when owning your body was still your birthright
and the right to give birth also included the right not to.

Close your eyes and forget that you are supposed to be a mindless object of desire,
to be salivated over and then dismissed,
used by men to sell beer and shoes and laundry detergent,
expected to exist only for their sexual pleasure, reviled for feeling it yourself,
condemned for being what they so determinedly make you: a sexual being.

So come here, little girl, here's a push-up bra, stilettos and a chastity belt
Learn now that sex is something for a man to do to a woman, not actually with her.
Understand that you must grow up to be either a slut, a dyke or a mother…
and a mother, and a mother.
Close your eyes, girls, and enjoy your patent leather Mary Janes and princess dreams
that don't yet end in blood and probes
and congressmen playing doctor behind the statehouse,
insisting that the princess carry even death in her womb, all in the name of life.

Close your eyes and think of your grandmothers, and of their grandmothers
owned by their fathers, traded to their husbands,
needing permission to go to college.
Think of the days when the few  lady-like jobs that existed
were only for those un-natural old maids
unable to join the ranks of the real women doing a woman's real job of having babies.
Think of not even being allowed to learn or to help support yourself and your family,
of depending on a man to feed and clothe you and your children,
your own love and need to protect them a chain and an anchor
that keeps you in the harbor of even a loveless, abusive marriage,
your yards and yards of beautiful sail forever stowed belowdecks,
because the open seas of life is no place for a woman.

Close your eyes, ladies, and think of England,
and of Iran and Afghanistan
where women are chained for their own good, beaten for showing their faces,
stoned for going to school, sewn shut between babies, robbed of the ability to feel passion,
used for a man's desire but allowed none of their own,
receptacles, incubators, cooks and maids.

So close your eyes, and shut your mouths, and be thankful that you live
in such an enlightened, modern land.