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Would I have even played softball in the first place? Maybe, maybe not. Would I just “tough out” the injury and not see a doctor, worried about the total cost of the bills I’d receive later in the mail? Probably so. Women worry about their families, their communities, their careers. We should not have to worry about leaving an injury untreated due to a lack of health insurance. Nor should we have to worry about bankruptcy if a serious illness does occur to someone in our family. I had hoped that the great lesson of the Great Recession would be simply this: There is no us, there is no them. Any of us could be plunged into poverty, if our previously stable jobs were downsized, our too-good-to-be-true mortgages turned out to be scams, and our homes turned out to be worth far less than we all thought. Any of us scrabbling to hang on to our middle-class existence could lose that handhold and slide down the cliff. Instead, what I’ve seen in this country is a lot of anger toward the poor, and a vitriol levied toward those who seek government help. Whether it’s in the form of welfare-towork assistance, food and nutrition assistance, or health care from Medicaid, the comments made about the people who seek such support have been shockingly inhumane at times. The Mitt Romney ad that states—incorrectly, by the way—that Obama’s administration wants to end work requirements in welfare programs is but just one easy example of turning “us” against “them.” What I want to say to the next president is this: Your highest duty should be to set an example for this country that we are all in this together, to try to mend the increasingly deep rifts between the classes, the blue and red states, the 99 percent and the 1 percent. Without this leadership, the country will continue to founder and this recovery will grow even longer and more divisive. It doesn’t have to be this way.
REMIND AND RE-EDUCATE I want to see the president make a positive impact on people—and one controversial topic that needs to be addressed is that of sexual crimes. Women are taught Courtney Harmening not to dress “inapproprihigh-school senior ately.” If we dress in such a manner, there’s a huge chance of us being sexually assaulted. Males need to be reminded and re-educated that even if a woman is provocatively dressed, it is not an invitation for rape.
FOCUS ON COMMON SENSE AND DECENCY I am out of practice at writing letters to politicians. I’ve been busy the last few years having babies, raising daughters, earning a living. Some women become mothers and fall into political activism. Me, I’ve circled the family wagons and mostly shut out the political noise. But Mr. President, we have a problem. Sixteen years ago, I was angry. I was angry about abortion, and not in the way you might think. I was angry about the way that abortion politics dominated political discourse in this 24
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country. I was angry that abortion rights were still the defining “women’s issue,” as if women had nothing else to think about. Sixteen years ago, I disagreed with most pro-choice candidates on many issues—the death penalty, gay marriage—but I voted the Democratic ticket anyway, like every other woman I knew. Because of abortion. And now it’s 2012, Roe v. Wade is nearly 40 years behind us, and people I know and love are worried every day about keeping their houses, paying for health care, winning the right to marry … and what are we talking about? Abortion. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want this to be the dividing line in American politics, the us vs. them, the sticking point that keeps so many of us (on both sides of the issue!) voting down a party line. But we keep talking about it, because a major political party has just adopted a platform that would outlaw abortions in all cases, including rape, incest and situations in which the mother’s life is at stake. It would be a lot easier for me to stop talking about this if the matter weren’t literally one of life and death. I don’t want to tell you, Mr. President, that I am a survivor of a life-saving pregnancy termination. I want that story to be Elizabeth Campbell my own business, my lawyer own grief, my family’s grief. I don’t want to talk about the terrible series of events that led to the conclusion that we could terminate the pregnancy, lose our healthy and already loved son, or do nothing and lose both of us. I had a 3-year-old daughter; I made the only choice that any mother could. Under the Republican party platform of 2012, my son and I would both be dead. I want this fight to be over. I want the protection of women’s lives and health and sanity and privacy and reproductive freedom to be common sense and simple decency. I don’t want to do this every four years anymore. I want to focus on your ideas for health care, I want to weigh your tax plans and read up on your ideas for getting us out of Afghanistan. I want to know how much longer we’re going to keep leaving kids behind with this standardizedtesting experiment. I want to talk about the deficit. I want to know when we are going to repeal DOMA. I want my daughters to grow up and solve problems, look forward, have real political choices. Hell, I want them to choose to be Republicans if that is where their hearts and minds lead them. I don’t want them endlessly on the defensive, watching their backs, voting the only way any sane woman can.
BAIL OUT SCHOOLS My 7-year-old daughter Estrella is not like other girls her age. She doesn’t listen to Justin Bieber or wear frilly dresses. She rocks out to the Pixies and wears an exorbitant amount of skulls on her clothes. She would rather sit inside drawing in her sketchbooks than be anywhere else. She wants to learn to play guitar. She designs clothes. She paints. She has creativity bursting at Olivia Monahan every seam. blogger But when she goes to school, the fire that perpetually burns in her is quelled by the lack of resources offered. She has no outlet in a
Gloria Ramirez desk clerk, Quinn Cottages place that’s supposed to nurture the very best out of her. Our school system is failing on multiple levels—too many to focus on in this letter. The arts, however, is where I see the most pressing issue. We have been so hell-bent on standardized-test scoring that I feel a huge part of our children is being ignored: It’s called the left side of their brain! It still exists! Please note how it is slowly rotting away in their skulls from lack of use. We as a nation sit idly by while varying levels of learning institutions constantly get their funding cut, yet we bail out corporations that weakened the foundation of our basic economic structure? Of course, I understand that funding for schools is handled at a statewide level, but there has to be that moment where the blind eye we have collectively turned finally begins to see. The picture must become clear. Our schools can no longer fade into the background. Bail out our schools, Mr. President—build a new foundation. One where our children are encouraged. Nurtured. Appreciated. Let them know that they are worth it.
CONVINCE ME I hope the next president will shine the light on the people who are trying to make their life better. I got really sick recently, and I’m on leave from my job, and I get disability benefits—$422 every two weeks. My daughter, she just turned 8, and she keeps me focused. I’m a single mom taking care of her. She encourages me to put one foot in front of the other, and I try to encourage her, too, because she’s a sponge right now. I don’t want to her to exist in a world where life is so hard. I tell her, “Make sure you get an education. Be anything you want to be. Be your best, and you’ll go far.” I’m going to vote, but right now, the candidates are just kind of repeating the same old thing—please convince me, that’s what I’m waiting for. You’ve got to stick to what you’re saying. Ω