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Opinion: What Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg Meant to Me Cameron Kettles Managing Editor
!"#$%&'($)*#+&#),-./)*&'($)*#+&($00#)1&2)#& 13#0&$3&$&3/4#56 – Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg (1933-2020) Growing up, I always saw Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg as this one constant in government I could always count on. Presidents and members of Congress changed, but Justice Ginsburg was always there, fighting for me and people across the country who identify as I do. I was proud and comforted to know women had an advocate on the inside. Her death on Sept. 18 at the age of 87 leaves both a void in the justice system and in the very image of justice many of us had created in our brains. Ginsburg’s nearly 60-year career in the legal profession was devoted to fighting for equality. While she was known as a feminist icon in pop culture, her greatest victories were won in the courtroom, on both sides of the bench. After attending Cornell University, Harvard Law School and Columbia Law School, Ginsburg struggled to find employment, despite making the Harvard Law Review and graduating at the top of her class at Columbia, because she was Jewish, a woman and the mother of a young child. At the time, there were very few practicing female lawyers, and only two women had ever served as federal judges.
She became an assistant professor at the Rutgers School of Law in 1963, and in 1972, Ginsburg became founding counsel of the American Civil Liberties Union’s Women’s Rights Project. Her earliest legal accomplishment, Reed v. Reed, was the first instance in which a gender-based statute was struck down on the basis of the 14th Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause. Ginsburg’s choice of cases to take on was strategic. She took interest in cases that were destined for the Supreme Court; cases that could change laws. She often represented men who had been discriminated against to argue for women’s equality. She picked her battles and she won often. She was appointed to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia by President Jimmy Carter in 1980 and to the U.S. Supreme Court by President Bill Clinton in 1993. In her 27 years on the Supreme Court, Ginsburg wrote 43 opinions, both for the majority and in dissent. She wrote against gender-exclusive admissions, against “unjustified isolation” that restricted the rights of people with mental disabilities to live freely, for the right of same-sex couples to marry, for the right to not be discriminated against in employment and in pay, for protections for non-citizens from expulsion from the country, for the right to access abortion and for voting rights. Before Ginsburg, any one of my non-
male colleagues could be rejected from state-funded schools and businesses. We couldn’t sign mortgages or open bank accounts on our own. We could be discriminated against at the point of entry into the workforce and at every step along the way. She quite literally created a path of financial independence for women. I don’t think people realize how many of the freedoms we now exercise that our grandmothers couldn’t. Many of us will be in college, be in the workforce, be on juries, play sports, have social security, get married to whom we choose if we so choose, have children if and when we choose because of her. She preserved a woman’s right to be independent, and to access a source of dignity outside a husband or a child. “It’s everything that came after the idea that it was inappropriate to make distinctions based on sex alone,” said Michele Dauber, a law professor at Stanford University, speaking in an interview with The Atlantic. “It’s not one thing that’s different—it’s everything that’s different.” Her death fills me with a deep sense of despair and dread. Given the Trump administration’s strategic court-packing in lower courts and now, the move to establish a decisive Republican majority in the Supreme Court, many of the protections that Justice Ginsburg fought so hard to protect now feel in jeopardy. We must honor her memory and her legacy. We must vote for the future we want and fight like hell to achieve the political
Source: United States Supreme Court
Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg served on the U.S. Supreme Court for 27 years.
and social equality that Justice Ginsburg dedicated her life to. It will take the combined energy and strength of all of us to carry on her fight. Her lifetime pursuit of equality under the law changed the lives of millions of women now and for generations to come. She will be deeply missed but her legacy will continue, and her impact will never be forgotten. Thank you, Justice Ginsburg. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Opinion: The Wuhan in My Childhood Memories Sarah Luan
Managing Editor
W
hen Wuhan hit the headlines earlier this year, the racist backlash affected me deeply. I grew up listening to my mom calling her parents back in Wuhan. Whenever she talked to them, she spoke in a Chinese dialect that my sister and I were unfamiliar with, a dialect we decided to name “Wuhanese.” Sometimes we’d even mock her Wuhan accent, pronouncing Chinese phrases in overly exaggerated tones. We would beg for her to demonstrate it again so we could practice. She would laugh and give in to our request, but afterward, she could flip this imaginary switch off and speak in “normal” Chinese again. I finally had the enjoyment of experiencing my mother’s hometown for myself when I was around eight years old. My first and only visit to Wuhan was almost ten years ago, but the memories are still fresh in my mind. Wuhan was hot and humid that summer, as it normally is, but my uncle always had a stash of popsicles ready for my sister and me to eat. My cousin had his fair share of popsicles too. Even though he spoke mostly in Chinese and I was still learning to speak fluently, we found ways to communicate. I still remember stealing one of his toy soldiers and “accidentally” breaking its head off. My uncle’s apartment in Wuhan was small, but that didn’t stop our extended family from crowding in the kitchen during meals. My sister and I would sit together on one side and my grandparents on the other. Everyone at the table would use chopsticks except us. The adults would always urge us to eat more, dropping “the best part of the fish” into our bowls and saving the largest pieces of meat for us. I would glare at my sister in a “what’s going on” kind of way, but I realize now that it was their way of treating us like family. Almost every morning, we would eat 热 干面 (Hot Noodles with Sesame Paste) at a
nearby restaurant. It quickly became one of my favorite treats. The restaurant was always pretty crowded, forcing me to squeeze through people to find a nice spot. My visit to China was enriching and eye-opening, but I realized there was a barrier that separated me from my Chinese background. Still, when coronavirus first hit the news, it was difficult for me to see and hear negative things about Wuhan and China. While I desperately tried to deepen my connection with my Chinese heritage, my efforts were clouded by offensive comments that put shame on the country’s rich culture and history. I felt confused. How could I embrace my background if all I heard about it were negative things? How could I actively stand up for myself and my family without being labeled as a “virus?” I was guilty and scared for simply looking Chinese. “Wuhan Virus” and “Chinese Virus” flooded the headlines in January, taking an emotional toll on my family. I remember my mom telling me at dinner, “Sarah, if people talk about how Chinese people eat weird things, they are being racist. We aren’t like that.” Afterward, she would call her parents in Wuhan, who were quarantined in their apartment for weeks. My mother would stress over their health, ordering masks online and shipping them over to her family. I would always be waiting by the stairs or outside my mother’s office to ask if they were okay. She would reassure me that everything was fine and that my grandparents were safe; nonetheless, each day I was worried if something had happened. When I think of Wuhan, I don’t think of COVID-19; I’m reminded of my kind, welcoming family and the delicious taste of 热干面. For my mother, Wuhan was once her home. I always loved hearing her stories about growing up in the city. She would talk about the delicious food and how no restaurant in America could recreate it. Sometimes I’d look through her camera roll, finding photos of her and her friends
Photos courtesy of Sarah Luan
CHILDHOOD MEMORIES: In the top photo, Sarah Luan, left, paddles across a Wuhan lake with her uncle. At bottom, she spends a summer’s day with relatives at their apartment.
when she went back to visit. I can only imagine how deeply affected she was by offensive comments towards her hometown while being here. It saddens me that people around the world only think of it as the city that started the pandemic. Putting this label on Wuhan—the city where my mother was raised, where many of my relatives currently live, and a place where I created cherished memories with
my family—is disheartening. I hope the world can someday see the beauty of Wuhan that I was able to experience. And even though there is a cultural divide between me and the rest of my family on the other side of the world, I do know that the people of Wuhan and China are incredibly strong. I’m proud that the city and country have such a powerful influence in my life.