Wednesday, June 29, 2022

Dobbs, Witchcraft and Elizabeth Cady Stanton

 Dobbs, Witchcraft and Elizabeth Cady Stanton


The Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision, which eliminates abortion as a right, and subjects it to felonious penalty by the states, is a tenebrous chop with the finality of a guillotine.  It is a reckless imperious, fallacious murder of national stability by black-robed agents of despotism.  Forty-nine years of legal abortion, reinforced by stare decisis, have been sacrificed to the flames of biased legalese, a hack job of might-makes-right disguised as logical and cerebral. 

Not only does this indelible historical debacle thumb its nose at the bipartisan judges--five Republicans and two Democrats--who voted for Roe v Wade in 1973, it undercuts the jurisprudential circumspection necessary for a legitimate republic, a government by and for the people that draws on the rationalism of the Founders, not the reactionism of theocracy. 

The quality of the Court’s argument is horrific.  Justice Alito, writing for the majority, cherry-picks from history, landing blinkered on the period surrounding 1868, while ignoring colonial and early colonial America, when abortion was widely accepted until ‘quickening’, when the fetus could be felt to move in the womb. 

Aside from the ignorance of the argument, the effects are abhorrent and heart-wrenching.  This ruling sanctions violence, centered on the monitoring and punishment of the female body.  Women’s reproductive organs are to be held hostage by police force.  The major arc of a woman or girl’s life can be commanded into pregnancy, birth, and the consequences of unwanted motherhood--even in cases of rape and incest.  The enforced journey can be traumatic as well as physically taxing.  The rigors of labor can be life-threatening, debilitating, and permanently alter anatomy.

Another aspect involves the very nature of what it means to dwell in community.  In states that outlaw abortion, surveillance could be constant, due to a ubiquitous, fanatic political base.  Neighbors and strangers alike can scrutinize every pregnant, or possibly pregnant, woman or girl as a potential criminal or murderer.  Women who have miscarriages risk mockery, scorn, conviction and jail time.

Justice Alito, to support the decision, references Sir Mathew Hale, a 17th century judge, who conducted witch trials and condemned women as witches.  It is worth noting that the invasive inspections that will result from Dobbs, along with the scorn, mockery, scrutiny, and incarceration, bare some resemblance to the cruelty inflicted on women accused of witchcraft, who were pilloried, vituperated and physically searched for ‘marks of the devil’.

If a pregnant woman dares seek freedom from the yoke on her uterus, she could die from black-market medical procedure.  Women will die because of Dobbs.

Dobbs has nothing to do with objective interpretation of the Constitution.  It has everything to do with overarching control that turns women into property of the state.  Abortion is not mentioned in the Bible.  Historically and contemporaneously, Christianity has often accepted the practice of abortion. 

The practice was fine with Southern Baptists till around 1980, when anti-abortionism, in service of right-wing evangelicals, became efficacious.  Other religions, as well, are quite present in America’s grand diversity.  However, the five Justices who overturned Roe are deeply entwined with Catholicism.

As much as Dred Scott was a power play for the enslavement of Black people, Dobbs is a power play for physical and mental control of women.  In the 19th century, women fighting to gain the right to vote compared themselves to slaves.  In 1860, Elizabeth Stanton wrote:

The negro has no name ... He is Cuffy Douglas ... just whose Cuffy he may chance to be.  The woman has no name.  She is Mrs. Richard Roe ... just whose Mrs. she may chance to be ... Cuffy has no legal existence ... Mrs. Roe has no legal existence; she has not the best right to her own person.

Thanks to Dobbs, a woman in the 21st century, like a woman in the 19th century, has “not the best right to her own person.”

 

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Newspapers rarely publish my op-eds (last was in 2019), so I put them here

Friday, June 24, 2022

The Lie that Binds


Radical Right leaders ... saw movements for freedom and equality as an existential threat to their grip on social, economic, and political power.  They fomented fear as a strategy to maintain control and privilege through a carefully architected and resourced campaign.  They found utility in weaponizing abortion, which ultimately became a key component of their strategy. 

                            Ilyse Hogue, The Lie That Binds 

Wednesday, June 22, 2022

Poem: Humanobotic

 

Humanobotic

 

i didn’t ask to be born,

to suffer these chemicals,

and bombs keep dropping,

and injustice keeps denying,

and the fascist takeover

has no courage to be honest

about the cult that it is.

 

lies lies lies

 

the truth never lasts.

and when it appears,

you have to be patient,

especially if you are truthful,

and hope that your voice

doesn’t get lost in the egos.

so much greed, bigotry, hate and violence

ready for surveillance, robots, ICBMs, drones

on a planet overrun by billions of mouths

led by a huge narcissistic penis.

 

nothing about the Earth’s

ancient lost raped splendor

has prepared anyone who is honest,

or anyone who wants to be good,

or any of the doomed manifold creatures

for this.






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10/5 changed poem to 1st person ... "wants" replaces "wanted"



Friday, June 17, 2022

Poem: Politician

 

Politician

 

the drumbeat pulse in the neck

and the nostrils' red flare

are giveaway symptoms.


but the rest prefers to salivate hidden:

a slight smile

 and a gleaming surface of kindness,


 belittle the horror of it.

 

noble of Gibraltar of chin

with fearless cheekbones

(it’s all about the cheekbones),

 

the photo/genetics,

 

and a jaw sturdy enought to chew

on broken ideals and mashed truths,

feeding  them to the hunger of a speech,

 

yes, fed and helpless

 

against the will-to-erect

 statues of masculine white marble self-aggrandizement,

 

an empire, yes,

strong of cold muscle and blood,

whitewashed reflections of the dark


hidden under the patriotic cloth

of a desecrated oath.


 

 

================

 






12/3/23 ... tons more changes... 


6/17/22  Multiple changes a few hours after posting the poem

e.g. "belittling" replaces "obscuring"


7/14//22  more sculpting mods... 

People really suck

 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2022/06/17/trump-revelations-jan-6-hearings-violent-future/?itid=hp_opinions

Tuesday, June 14, 2022

Poem: Pennies In a Jar

 

Pennies In a Jar

 

vertebrae of copper

flee their spine

to riot for a speck of sun.

 

so many faces of a single gone man

sitting on top of each other,

mutual yet useless stools.

 

fun to dig fingers in,

pitchfork style,

scoop circles of metallic hay,

 

dribble them back

into their jaded mausoleum-granary.

 

nothing much changes,

only scrapes and nicks

on chins with no other way to age.

 

in their urn of glass,

sitting on a slab of formica,

the countable clones compare tarnishes,

 

and visit the same old pillared mansions,

patting each other on the back

with copper blades.

 

 


 

 

=======================


7/30/22 major word changes


7/10/22 ... "flee their"  replaces "spill from their"  ... "a single dead" replaces "one" ... "mausoleum granary" replaces "a mausoleum of a granary" ... "age" replaces "grow old" ... "while visiting" replaces "and visit" ... blah

 

Sunday, June 12, 2022

Poem: Back Alive

 

Back Alive

 

what could be more awesome,

or maybe no?

it depended on the whys

of great perspectives,

on a scale of hows,

unseen yet sought,

and which god chose

which river.

 

it was important to praise

and yet also curse;

to fuse the answerless birth-questions.


remember, 


it is predestined:

to reach the top of a beautiful wave,

and look down at things,

the push and pull of sting and hunger

in the crash of infinite joy.

 



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6/12/22 ... "sting and hunger" replaces "hunger and sting"


7/10/22 ... broke last stanza in to two stanzas... added a word in between ("remember")

Thursday, June 9, 2022

Poem: Worldless (Warning, Triggering Poem)

 

Worldless

 

dented, long since crushed,

pretending to be a vertebra,

admiring those who have spines.

 

kids want to kick it.

maybe it would be thankful,

having waited forever--

 

unable to release, and yet craving rest,

having watched the same thing,

as if stuck in a circus too long.

 

ice and petals frolic the calendar,

but none budge the false stare 

of something that seems more:

 

helpless yet alert,

beaten and sensitive--

 

some million-year-old man,

just an abused kid, just a rock,

who wants moss to hug it,

warm as a shawl.

 

 

 

 

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8/14/22  significantly condensed

Monday, June 6, 2022

Poem: Refuge

 

 

Refuge

 

i had a bouquet

as i ran to meet a Love

who didn’t want the flowers.

 

my spurned hummingbird passions

zigged and zagged,

erratic as Valentine’s deflected dart.

 

it was clear

i had fallen way deep down.

and yet still i climbed,

 

up the steeple of a crumbling piety,

to its very summit,

as i reached for that Love,

 

so high above me.

 

numerous wings of prayer

rode my fractured breaths,

but my flypapery tongue caught them,

 

and said,

to the no one who wasn’t up there,

“no soul should trust

such a gauntlet of pangs

and indifference.”

 

then my cries,

they tried to gnaw out a new door,

some better refuge,

from the beautiful monster.

 

 

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Sunday, June 5, 2022

Woodward and Bernstein

 

From the Woodward and Bernstein article in the Post today:

 

Another dominating personal trait binds Nixon and Trump together: Each viewed the world through the prism of hate.

         ....


Trump said, “Real power is — I don’t even want to use the word — fear.”

 

 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2022/06/05/woodward-bernstein-nixon-trump/

Wednesday, June 1, 2022

Poem: Limbo

 

Limbo

 

uncertain at 4am

if it is a fox with the wail of a stabbed girl,

or an owl berating this asylum, 

i roll the two faces of my skull,

right to dark, left to bright,

and underestimate, as always,

how drunk with sleep my fancies are;

and how truthful and terrible

ride the visions in their logic.

 

this mental place where timelines knot,

where specters could be loves not yet birthed,

and infants, perhaps, the most awful ghosts--

this is where lions

devour what they capsize in front of you;

and you witness the red gulps

without the chance to fear, only wonder,

while the symbols transform,

very much indifferent to your loss,

yet in a different way, once more,

too strange.




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If you are reading this sometime after WWIII, which is a quite likely occurrence at the moment, well, that would make you an archeologist or an extraterrestrial.  Let me just say to you, at your distant vantage from me, this:  owls were pretty cool creatures.