Thursday, January 22, 2009

That old familiar feeling... (or, Pretty Words Make You Reagan)

You know how sometimes your gut tells you a guy is full of shit or an asshole or whatever at first... and then he says all these nice things that he probably knows you want to hear, talks about how he's so, so hip to that feminist thing you've got going on and you start to think "Wow! Maybe I was wrong! Maybe I'm just too cynical, and maybe he doesn't suck at life after all! I should give him a chance!" and then not two seconds later he comes at you with a jugular thrashing load of asshattery which he then tries to cover up with more nicety nice words which you now realize are as bullshitty as you thought they were in the first place? (see around 45% of my relations with dudes, particularly during my early years of Ice Queenery.)

Well, that's kind of how I feel about Obama today. This morning when I read that he was supposed to repeal the global gag rule, I chastised myself for the lingering feeling I had that he was not actually going to do anything other than talk about his hopes and dreams. But while he did have the time to write and release this statement about the anniversary of Roe vs. Wade, which is very pretty and nice... he did not in fact repeal the Global Gag Rule (as Bill Clinton had, and as he was rumored to be planning on doing- also, Bush put it back into effect on Jan. 22nd his first year in office. It's a tradition for godsakes!).


Do not get all "I'm down for the cause" with me, Mister, until you actually do some shit. The global gag rule is insane and dangerous for women all over the world- so do not go around talking about my having no limits on my "dreams" until it is repealed. What that says to me, is that while I am more than free to "dream" about human rights and women across the world not being forced to have babies or getting the healthcare they need... that these things are not going to happen in reality. Which does not do much for me.

Words are lovely things- I use them often, and rely on them just as much as the next person for the majority of my day to day communication. But at the end of the day, existence precedes essence- dig? Show, don't tell. I don't want your letter, I don't want your words, I don't want your hopes or your dreams-- I want your signature on that damned piece of paper. And *then* we can talk. Ok?

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