It was a hot and muggy Memphis summer day, yes, cliche but there you have it and there she was, a small framed older Black woman sitting across from the National Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King was assassinated. Her name is Jacqueline Smith — she hasn’t budged in decades, and from what I saw of her on that sweltry day, she had no plans on leaving, ever.
Ms. Smith’s mission? Well, it may not be what you expect — and this is my interpretation, she’s not happy with a message fading away while a gift shop filled with Made in China merchandise earning some CEO somewhere profits to invest on Wall Street is allowed to stand.
I see her point. All of that, including how slave labor works against what Martin Luther King stood for, lost his life for, and in the end created a legacy of commitment and endurance so few will ever strive towards due to the fears keeping their hearts, their compassion, their morals, and their empathy chained to a life of indifference.
Dramatic, I know — as it should be so the message is clear and one that sticks when you look at your passing reflections and especially when looking directly into that mirror in your safe place, your home. That was his point, his message — reflect, adjust, and move forward and on to better tomorrows, for all.
“Oh, there goes a liberal bitch spouting progressive talking points,” —
1: You’re right I am pretty darned liberal in my approach to life and the causes I hold dear, but know I’ve been called that before, it really doesn’t matter to me what you are right now reading this because ….
2: I lived almost 2 decades in conservative rural America and I know the oppression that exists there — I’ve debated this fact with people on my own side of the aisle, yes, white America also suffers oppression. I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it. Try being born into desperate poverty to the “wrong” family in a city of 4k, or a farming village of just 700–900. Better yet try being that liberal bitch, who no longer adheres to the Catholic faith I was raised under, and having two children; one who calls the LGBTQ community homeand the other a natural born musician who plays the blues. Fun times.
However, rather than always being called a bitch, I was labeled a witch with the devil on my back. Something that hit my core and I sobbed. Then, there is some irony to it, I was also a reporter for a weekly newspaper — I covered everything from kids building snowmen to murder trials — and get this, I was often accused of using the power of the pen to carry out witch hunts for the already charged and soon to be convicted child molestors in the community.
Oppression exists everywhere in this country and it is a common bond we should be uniting over rather than one side trying to scream persecution louder than the other side — the common bond is CLASSISM.
Ms. Smith understands that —
In doing my own family tree I have seen it played out — that witch label hit home for a reason. On my mother’s side, our ancestors date back to the start of this country. Some were labeled a witch and killed for it, some were the accusers, even have a juror — but even more would have been those standing in the fears, chained in place with indifference keeping them from screaming “STOP!” Names that history has not noted but could have changed course if only someone had the pure stubborness in believing that no matter what our differences are we should not be ripping one another apart while the rich get richer off our bloody wounds.
Combine all of that with my father’s East Prussian German ancestry, I was doomed to have an opinion and share it , even though writing this there’s a part of me nervous still about the label makers out there more willing to slap that on my back than pay attention. Those fears of those labels have stopped me a few times while writing this so I could gather my thoughts and calm my soul.
I am very fearful of where we are heading. Where we are taking our children, what world we will be handing over to them.
Currently and for the last few months I’ve been healing on a couple of levels- one from major surgery and two from being a survivor of childhood and adult trauma.
It’s been a battle but it is that healthcare battle and the things I’ve discovered walking it as someone who now is officially label disabled, that angers my soul. My dismay centers around the fact that the Goliath of Medicaid, Centene Corporation, has been and is paying out nearly $1billion in settlements to states over claims of fraud/overbilling. Now this is on top of rampant denials on prior authorizations and trying to find a specialist that actually takes their insurance, which they have many subsidiaries- such as Meridian and Wellcare to name a couple.
So now not only do the elderly, the disabled, those living in dire poverty and children have to worry about all of that and more — finding out Wall Street just loves this corporation and because of the profits they announce every quarter. Too bad for the 2k they laid off last year, just in time for the Holidays. But hey, those offshore employees I am told answering customer service calls, they’re okay.
Now, I am not sure why and especially after the last decade of division intensifying there’s a part of me that still has some hope that when doing the right thing is smacking our politicians in the face, that they would do the right thing…I mean after all how much more obvious does this all have to be? I think both sides can agree upon that, right?
Well, finding out just how much Centene has been donating to pad Congress’s wallets, and how they play both sides with those bribes..oops, donations, I was repulsed.
Then after a couple of weeks of non stop posting to both Facebook and Twit X, (sorry can’t help myself, sometimes) and being met by those chains of indifference from not only politicians ignoring my questions on if they were willing to return those PAC funds in the name of People over profit, but also friends and family not liking or sharing…well, I have to admit this Good Witch is about ready to start singing the Blues, and believe me, NO ONE wants that — ask my cat and dog.
So, all of this brings me to now, right here — as nervous as I am and how scary it is to try on some new confidence from healing very old wounds, I decided to switch gears and try to beat them at their game of greed. I believe in heart. Living life with heart and there’s that part of me that believes there is still enough heart in this country to come together and scream a very loud and clear message of “STOP!” — I also believe that we can put down our verbal swords, even if we are still of strong opinions in our personal worlds, and work together to heal the chaos of ignorance and hate on both sides — doing so in a way that flips a big ole bird at those who refuse to hear our voices.
Rebuild our communities — address the needs of our neighbors and give our kids, all of them are innocent, a firmer foundation than we ever had. So, I am asking everyone reading this to consider taking part in what I am calling Healing Hearts.
Imagine raising $108,000, what the Centene PAC has donated to both sides this election cycle, and injecting it, once raised, into a community via vetted non profits and programs that would have an immediate and future impact on that community.
The first community I would like to help is that one in rural America where I lived, worked and grew — Juneau County, Wisconsin. A large county by land, and about 25k people.
Then- ask them again why they refuse to return that PAC money?
I believe something like this could reopen a dialogue in this country where we argue and debate about policy and not each other.
So — with that I am risking my own heart and dedicating a commitment to see this through for as long as it takes, like Ms. Smith.
Do You Believe?
Will You Join Me?
The following is dedicated to those….well ya know, Women who Refuse to be Well Behaved…
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