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Crying, chanting, marching
The Rev. Megan Foley shares her experience protesting Kavanaugh’s nomination.
What was most moving to me was the . . . women who identified as sexual assault survivors. Women who said it had been 40 years since they weren’t believed. Women who looked so young they must have been hurt very recently. Women watching the hearings whose faces crumpled as Dr. Ford was questioned, women that our few clergy reached out to because they kept crying. And kept chanting and marching, too, by the way. (Facebook, September 27)
As she listens to the Kavanaugh hearings, the Rev. Joanna Fontaine Crawford is startled by the genderedness of her vulnerability.
I am shocked, sitting here, to realize that when I most feel female, when I am most aware that I am a woman, it is when I am alert that I am in a potentially dangerous situation. Walking to my car in the dark. Running by myself in the morning. In an unfamiliar area with few people around. (Facebook, September 27)
The Rev. Lynn Ungar writes a caustic note, shared here in its entirety.
Dear Central Casting: The man you sent us to play the role of The Patriarchy in today's hearing was perfect. From his belligerence to his tears at the prospect of having to be accountable, he hit every note of entitlement mixed with aggression. (Facebook, September 27)
The Rev. David Pyle responds to the argument that Kavanaugh shouldn’t be held accountable for his teenaged actions.
What we have here is a man who will lie, cheat, and steal to get what he wants. He will break any law, he will tell any story, he will trash any person if it gets him what he wants. In High School what he wanted was to force a young woman to have sex with him. Now, what he wants is to be confirmed to the Supreme Court. But the behavior is the same. (Facebook, September 23)
The Rev. Elizabeth Curtiss suggests that we need a National Coming Out Day for Justice.
For some victims, there’s a name to be called. For repentant former abusers, there’s one’s own name (not one’s victim’s name) to make clear. But as with National LGBTQIA Coming Out Day, the ritualization teaches our culture how to respond, teaches us that the shaming issue . . . can be managed if we all make space for it together. (Politywonk, September 25)
Speaking to those who perpetuate and benefit from patriarchy, the Rev. Theresa Novak doesn’t mince words.
Be afraid for your time is ending
As ours is being born
Our daughters will rise as warriors
Our sons will be steady, kind, and strong. (Sermons, Poetry, and Other Musings, September 24)
The Rev. Joe Cherry humbly makes himself available to those who need someone to listen.
I am in Cleveland. I am not powerful. I am only a humble pastor. But since I am in Cleveland, and if you find yourself in need of someone here to listen to and believe you, (Facebook, September 27)
Liz James envies the freedom a male gay bar patron has to respond to clumsy, unwanted advances with a simple, “WTF, dude?”
It all feels so exhausting. All the hearings and the discussions and the dissections. I am so confused and too tired to even think about how is best to respond to this stuff in daily life. Part of me wants to just not respond at all, give in, and let the chips fall where they may.
The other part of me wants to take up yelling “WTF, dude?”
Of course, it's not that simple. I know what happens with even the politest resistance.
Still. I want to be able to yell “WTF, dude?”
Just once.
I feel like it's kinda WTF-dude season. (Facebook, September 27)
Many of us have jangled nerves this week; the Rev. James C. Leach offers soothing words.
For every woman,
for every woman,
who is newly triggered,
who is gritting your teeth through each day
and crying through each night,
who faces an unending gauntlet
of questions, doubts, suspicions, dismissals, erasure,
may Love in this world conspire
to offer you
some listening ear,
some open heart,
some clear, unequivocal message
that you are loved,
that you are loved,
that you are loved. (Facebook, September 25)