politics – Allison Thurman

not really a person

Well, I was. Until last Friday.

I’ve tried to write this post a dozen times but I can’t say much that hasn’t been said before. Roe v. Wade was the law of the land all my life and while the religious righties chipped away at the right to abortion at the state level I never in my wildest dreams did I think Roe could be struck down.

Toss the question back to the states, sure—states in which Republicans are gerrymandering Democrats into irrelevance are the ones most likely to end legal abortion, if they didn’t have trigger laws on the books already.

And if the Republicans get a majority you better believe they’ll go for a nationwide abortion ban, and they won’t stop there. What constitutional rights will they go for next? Same-sex marriage, certainly, trans rights, and contraception—that might sound unthinkable but oh yes they will because crushing women’s autonomy was always part of the conservative plan.

My state is safe…for now. I have it easier than some as my reproductive years are almost behind me. Doesn’t make me any less furious that in some states I now have fewer rights than a fetus or a corpse.

I am LIVID for younger generations who are still at risk for unplanned pregnancy. We’ve just set this country back for multiple generations.

If you’re inclined to whinge that I’m “getting all political”—well, yeah. What, you think I can just accept this?

I’m doing all I know to do-give to abortion funds, call my representatives, grind my teeth to powder but it’s not enough and I don’t know what will be. After all, the people who decided this don’t have to worry about being voted out.

Not much more to say, and no interesting pictures to make you click through. I’m writing and working on all my other extracurricular projects that make this timeline bearable, so if I sometimes seem flip I’m just trying to cheer myself up. I hope you’re all finding your ways to deal with [gestures broadly at ALL THIS].

2021 in review

Yeah, I know we’re only in January but damn, it feels like a year already, doesn’t it?

Like many I hoped the national fabric would start to mend after Inauguration Day but no, the idiots-that-be couldn’t even let us have that.

January 6 was an emotional roller coaster. I started the day watching the Democrats get the Senate back. Regaining the majority with 2 blue candidates is joyous, that they were both from Georgia, remarkable. But winning it back with Georgia’s first Black and first Jewish senators? Historical.

Mom would have loved it. Cruel that it didn’t happen until the first anniversary of her death. I wish she’d seen it.

Then the afternoon happened.

I can’t say I was surprised. I expected some sort of Trump-related violence, but I’d thought it’d be at polling places on Election Day. That Trump himself riled up the crowd…well, we knew who he was, and with administration grownups resigning left and right there was no one to stop him.

No, what’s most jarring is that as the investigation goes on the news gets worse and worse. Lots of prior planning on the parts of the insurrectionists but little preparation on the part of Capitol and DC police despite ample warning that something was brewing. Possible support from white supremacist elements inside those same police forces. Apparent support from members of Congress, even as they cowered in secure locations.

The cherry on this shit sundae is Republicans bleating yet again for national unity while offering no remorse or responsibility. My hope is that Democrats will not give in to the same “Lucy and Charlie Brown with the football” scenario they’ve fallen for repeatedly since Newt Gingrich and probably before.

Charlie Brown runs at the football, Lucy snatches it away — What happens every time well-meaning Democrats reach across the aisle. Via

Nearly a month on and I’m still digesting everything that’s happened—and is likely to keep happening. These folks aren’t going away, though I can’t imagine how you deprogram ~70 million conspiracy theorists.

But let me end on a hopeful note. I watched/listened to the inauguration as best I could given that it was a work day. When Biden was at last physically inside the White House I was able to relax a little. And I like what he’s doing so far.

Paradoxically for such a long month, it was Inauguration Day that felt like the real new year, the real first day of 2021. As we go into February (and how the hell is it almost February already?) I’m trying to be optimistic.

It’s working, at least subliminally—in the past week I’ve been able to crank out more edits on Fool’s Gold than I have in the past 2 months. If I can continue at this rate I stand a chance of starting queries again by spring. Which I ache to do—I love this book, I’ve learned a lot about writing while creating it, but I want it to be done so I can move on to the next thing, whether it’s about Renaissance cryptid zoos, time traveling glam rockers, or something else.

So raise a glass if you’ve got it. I want it to be a good year!

on voting and my inner Pollyanna

Voting was very important to my mother.

She voted in every election – local and national – from the time she was eligible to vote. I remember her taking me once to the polls when I was too little to understand why the big room was so full of tall tables with little shields around three sides.

She worked in a public library where among her duties were registering other people to vote. She didn’t wait for patrons to ask—if their records showed they weren’t already registered she always asked and encouraged them to vote, whatever their political inclinations.

Right up to her last day, she told anyone who would listen—family, friends, doctors, nurses—that they must vote, that our votes matter and we shouldn’t throw away our vote out of apathy.

oval lapel sticker: My vote counted! — And I followed in her footsteps. This sticker is from several elections ago.

***

At long last I found a (feeble? Fabulous?) way to honor my mother.

I’ve mentioned Mom’s desire that I write something about voting before but I’ve had a hell of a time figuring out just what and where. Right after her death, it was just too close, too raw. Then as the months passed, the project was too daunting. What if I got it wrong? What if it wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t good?

So I spun my wheels. Then a friend pointed me at VoteForward, and there I found a medium that felt right.

VoteForward is a grassroots effort to get out the vote through handwritten letters to registered but inactive Democrats. Handwritten anything is novel enough to get noticed in this world of email and texts. They’re also more intimate (and hopefully effective) than shouting into the void of social media, or winding up in someone’s spam filter or deleted voicemail.

So I’m writing an abbreviated version of what’s at the start of this post (minus the photo) in each of these letters. I can only write about 5 at a time before my handwriting becomes illegible, but if I can crank out 5 a day between now and the October 17 mailing date I’m still going to reach more people than I would be posting to my blog.*

Some might say I’m cynically exploiting my mother’s death, but she would have wanted this. It’s coming from a place of hope and optimism that she had that I often severely lack.

Because yes, I know—the American system of voting is broken. Given the disparity between the popular and Electoral College results in 2016 and the vote-counting debacle of 2000 I think Mom realized this too. But this is the only system of voting we’ve got, and if we want any chance of fixing it we have to keep using it. She would have, and I will continue to.

Mom called this faith that it would all turn out for the best if we just tried hard enough her “inner Pollyanna”. When I was younger it used to make me roll my eyes but with age, I’ve developed my own inner Pollyanna. She’s smaller and weaker than Mom’s but in times like these, I need every little shred of gladness I can get.

So maybe I’m working my hands to carpal tunnel with these letters for no reason. Maybe my writing sucks, maybe every one of these letters will wind up in the garbage. But I think it’s worth the risk. So to honor my mother I’ll keep sharing her dying wish.

*I love y’all and I’d still rather have only 10 readers who “get” me than have to water myself down to attract thousands! But this is the vote. I need reach. I hope you’ll share this, but I hope more that you’ll join VoteForward (or something like it) yourself!

short sentences

Black people are not the enemy. They are protesting because asking nicely doesn’t seem to work.

Most of the protestors are quite peaceful. Some are violent but given the confusion and outright disinformation it’s difficult to winnow out who’s responsible for what.

Some of those bad actors are undoubtedly cops. No, not all cops. Just enough of them. It doesn’t take many. [too many links to cite – who do you think started all this?]

A pandemic isn’t a great time to be protesting. But arguably police brutality and white supremacy are also public health threats so protesting still makes sense. If you’re protesting, reduce your chances of infection. If you’re not, you can still help the protestors’ efforts.

For what it’s worth, I stand with the protestors.

a brief political detour

I had a nice post set up for y’all about my long, winding trek towards becoming a writer. I never expected to write professionally and I’ve done (and continue to do) a lot of different things.

This isn’t that post. Nor did I ever see myself writing about this. Others already have with greater cogency and eloquence while I tend to get all stuttery and repetitive. But it’s frivolous and oblivious to let this week past without commenting on current events.

As I type this ICE agents are separating kids from their asylum-seeking parents at the U.S. border. There’s no law mandating this and the UN and a slew of others in power oppose this policy but the Trump administration justifies it, denies it, and blames it on others in turn, per usual. You can Google your news source of choice to double-check me; if it doesn’t bother you I imagine you’ve quit reading by now anyway.

For some reason this latest outrage puts me on alert in a way that previous Trump excesses haven’t. I can’t articulate why. Maybe it’s the corralling of people in prison-like facilities when they’ve done nothing wrong (asylum-seeking is perfectly legal). Maybe it’s that ICE won’t tell them–or us–what they plan to do with these children in the long term. Maybe it’s that ICE agents are blatantly lying to detained parents about where their kids are and when/whether they’ll see them again.

There’s more than a whiff of Japanese internment about this and it makes my skin crawl. It reminds me of other corralling done in the past as well, and that makes my blood run cold (and that sounds so paranoid that I can’t believe I typed it).

I could make righteous noises of “this isn’t America” except it demonstrably is, historically and ongoing. But it’s not what America aspires to be, and a country should aim for its ideals, however lofty.

I’m sure some of y’all are bothered that I “got all political”. To each their own; I hope you come back for the craft and weird next week. But please understand that some of us can’t afford to ignore what’s going on. I could spout clichés about “canaries in the coal mine” and “this is how it starts” but really: this is how it starts.

I’ve called my representatives for all the good it will do: in a blue state it amounts to little more than an “attaboy”, and when my senator’s already working against child detainment and it’s still not enough it’s disheartening as hell.

And before you accuse me of histronics let me say: I hope I’m wrong. Hopefully by the time this post goes live one of the bills reuniting families will have passed. Maybe the Powers That Be will listen to the protesters at the border. Perhaps public outrage will count for something.

But I’m scared none of this will make a difference.

I want to go back to my cheery posts about weird history and editing, and will most likely next week. But I can’t afford not to pay attention or pretend everything’s ok. It’s not.

keeping sane in a world turned upside down

This is not a political post.

Princess Leia with David Bowie lightning strike makeup, Rebel Rebel written below — Via Geektyrant.

Well it is, sorta. As an American I can’t help but be aware of the current political situation. As a liberal/progressive I can’t help but be horrified. I’m not going to go into details or debate – if you agree with me you probably share my concerns and if you don’t I’m not going to convince you of anything.

Far better writers than I have discussed the value of writing in fractious times and how to persist. Incredibly I’ve managed to keep my creative momentum and am still on track to finish my second draft by June. So this isn’t a “writing while stressed” post either.

No, this is about how not to let the current situation eat you.

Or eat me, at least. I have a great talent for getting so caught in worry that I freeze. True to form I spent the first few weeks after the inauguration beating myself up for not doing enough and chasing my tail trying to find something–anything–I could do so I wouldn’t feel so useless. I didn’t go to the women’s march (cold weather + my lungs = sinus infection until spring). I missed out on bystander training. I hate cold calling with a passion I reserve for lima beans and sauerkraut.

But.

I now cold call my representatives once a day on issues that matter most to me. I’m looking for future training and warm-weather protests. I try to remember that I should do what’s effective, not what makes me feel better. As it happens I’m more effective at a constant crawl than a sudden sprint (kind of like writing. Or fencing. But I digress).

And I try to laugh, whenever possible.

So if I’m inappropriately silly from time to time, it’s just me sane-making.

What about you?