At some point Wednesday morning, I’m still not exactly sure what it was that set me off, I decided I needed to head up to DC to protest Brett Kavanaugh show support for Dr. Christine Blasey Ford at her Senate Judiciary hearing. 

I am not a sexual assault survivor, but I am a woman and the mother of a teenage girl.  It’s not just that the current old white men in power want to strip my daughter of the right to determine her own future and the autonomy to control HER choices with HER body, it’s that they are doing so in such a completely disrespectful manner to women, by trying to marginalize one of us, which is actually all of us. This makes me absolutely furious. Let’s face it, every last one of those men are walking the face of this earth thanks to a woman carrying him in her body for the better part of a year. You’d think they would be far more respectful of that little fact. Frankly, I think those assholes should be in awe of our collective female superpower of growing new human beings. Instead, the idea renders them to think they should be able to tell us exactly how and when we go about performing this superpower, as if we exist solely for this purpose, while also ensuring we are paid less, harassed for our looks and demeanors and generally dismissed as lesser human beings. We’re supposed to organize the car pools, the PTO bake sales, do the laundry and the grocery shopping, get everyone out the door in the morning, pack the lunches, make sure dinner is on the table every night AND hold down a job all while being grateful they get up and go to work every day, allowing us to exist in their world. We’re supposed to give THEM headpats for doing extra things like coaching their kid’s soccer team while we do the heavy lifting of every. damn. day.

I warned y’all I was furious. I probably should have warned y’all that I’m ranty as all get out about this too. I will also point out, this is not about my husband. Although the poor guy has been the stand in for EVERY white guy for the last few years when I feel the need to yell at white guys. I know he’s not one of them, he  just happens to be there. (I try to make him lots of apology pie because that fixes everything, right?)

The last few weeks have quite possibly been the hardest in a few years worth of hard weeks. Seeing the message all of this has been sending to my dear, sweet, beautiful teen girl has been hands down, the hardest thing I’ve dealt with in a long, long time.  As I told a friend recently, at some point in the last few weeks, I lost it and I just haven’t been about to get it back. It, being my ability to be civil about this. To be civil about watching people marginalize a woman’s experience as part of their scheme to take away our collective rights as a woman. Boys will be boys and all that jazz. Just NOPE. I will NOT HAVE THAT as a message to my daughter.

So that’s why I decided I needed to go show up in DC on Thursday. I mean, that’s kinda what I’m known for by people who really know me  – I’ve heard it enough, “Oh Becky, she always shows up”.  You’re nodding your head to that, I know. I do, I show up. Showing up and pickles are my super powers.

I quickly gathered a few girlfriends to go along and they gathered friends and just like that, we had a ladies gang intent on showing up. (Yes, I dragged out my Women’s March sign because it is still very applicable. Maybe one of these days, there will be a protest that requires a new sign?)

In all honesty, by the time we got up to DC and down to the Capital, it was late and we really only had time to participate in a demonstration in the street between the Supreme Court and the Capital building. We witnessed a few dozen activists (including some of the founders of the Women’s March) get themselves arrested in the name of protesting and preserving our daughters’ and granddaughters’ and great-grandaughters’ rights, which honestly gave me chills and a few tears. I wasn’t that committed this time, but I’m pretty sure if this madness continues, I’m gonna be willing to do the same in the name of fighting for our girls’ rights sooner rather than later.  (One of my friends from my weekly yoga class has already pledged bail money for my first arrest, so why wouldn’t I?!)

Witnessing these people standing up in civil protest for their – and our daughters, granddaughters and great-grandaughters civil rights left me absolutely gutted and inspired all at the same time. It was absolutely the modern day version of  “Sister Suffragette“, where we walk away hoping our work here ensures our daughters and their daughters never, ever have to do this because we’ve done it for them. We’ve shown up so they don’t have to.

As we walked back to the metro, past the National Republican Club, I yelled a few obscenities at a few white guys walking out of the building. I know, it was totally immature and not at all civil, but I’m really, really done being civil and damn if it didn’t feel good as hell to yell ‘asshole’ at those guys. And just to let you know I’m really not all that awful, I did point out one dropped his phone as he got in his chauffeured SUV.  That counts as a good deed, even if I did call him an asshole in the act, yes?

Right now, it feels the whole world is a dumpster fire, more so than usual. Every woman I talk to feels raw.  Today was the first day in weeks upon weeks it didn’t rain and wasn’t 100% humid.  The gloom is as pervasive as the mold on everything. There seems to be good news this afternoon from DC, but who knows how long it will actually hold. A conversation with my girl after school today in which she said she expects the worst out of the white men in DC that determine her future made me realize exactly how much she is resigned to all this awfulness. It’s beyond heartbreaking to me she feels this way.

But I have girlfriends who are willing to show and they have girlfriends willing to show up and if we all show up, maybe we can start to take our and THEIR future back. We just need to show up.