I was out on a walk when a friend texted me to turn on the news. I opened Facebook and saw that Ruth Bader Ginsburg had died. I stopped, and moved from the sidewalk to the grass and just stood there. I cut my walk short, went home and wept.
As a woman in this country, I am devastated, writing through tears even now. My life has been, in many ways, shaped by the work she did. I can get a bank account or a mortgage without a male co-signer because of her. It is illegal to discriminate against me in employment because of her. It’s also worth noting that she fought for the ability of men to receive tax deductions for being care-takers, which was something previously reserved for women. It was never about man versus woman; it was always about equality.
This loss feels personal for so many. Why now? Why did it have to be now? And the worst part is that we can’t even properly grieve because of what’s at stake and the thing we knew would happen if a Supreme Court seat opened this year. I wish we could just stop for just a minute, but we can’t.
She carried such a weight, and hung on for so long. I am so grateful for her life and her work, and to have existed on this planet at the same time as her.
To say that it feels like we’ve reached a new level of fucked is an understatement. I haven’t felt this way since November 9, 2016. I’m terrified.
Grieve her. Mourn her. Cry. Then get to work. Hell, get to work while you’re crying. Let it fuel you.
Donate. Phone-bank. Text-bank. Tell your Republican Senators what you expect of them (knock-knock Cory Gardner). We have to. We have to for her.