#MeToo: Is this a Revolution?

For months we've asked the question.

Never before in our country's history have women voiced cases of sexual harassment and assault like they have now.

Never before has there been such a flood of powerful men denying, admitting, apologizing, excusing, and resigning in every field.

However you see it, a bandage has been ripped off and our nation is staring at -- yet another -- festering wound.

Growing up in the 80's and 90's, I wasn't raised in a culture of silent women.  We were smart and articulate, vocal, innovative, and taught to work and fight for any dream we had.  Some of our moms stayed home with us, some worked.  The term "latchkey kid" became common place with we Gen Xers.

"You can be anything you want to be."

But could we?  There'd never been a woman president.
Women didn't (and still don't) make up 20% of the Congress.
Five states have never even elected a woman to the House.

We were taught that jobs were not gender-specific by our 95% female teachers.

We were taught to speak up about abuse or harassment.
But even at my small progressive school, a math teacher was accused of touching girls, and the school did nothing.
A student was raped. 
A student showed up with a black eye from her boyfriend.
Nothing happened.

I don't know how the hearing will play out with Judge Kavanaugh tomorrow.  None of us does, though our news feeds are dominated by the allegations, denials, and the rampant questions orbiting it all:
Could she have mistaken him for someone else? 
Was anyone even sober at that high school party?
Do year book signatures count for anything?
Couldn't she have fabricated the whole thing?
Could he not be an entirely different person 36 years later?

The lists of questions generated by this altercation aren't simple.
Stories and evidence in the hearing need to be weighed far away from partisan lines.

If he is found guilty, the next question is, should a 53 year old man's career really depend on his actions as a 17 year old boy?

When it comes to serving on the highest court in the country,
to being the final word in interpreting our constitution,
to ultimately protecting and upholding justice for all people in this country,
and for standing in the spotlight for every 17 year old boy, present and future,
it has to.

What will history tell our daughters and sons if in the middle of the #MeToo movement -- an unorganized and decentralized movement, yes, but the impetus for a dam breaking -- the women who made allegations against the President of the United States and two Supreme Court Justices -- men in the most powerful seats in our government -- made the news but no difference?

the FIRST day

Today was the first day of school for my girls and meet the teacher day for my new junior Higher.

All began well: outfits laid out, neatly packed lunches, breakfast at the counter, hair brushed, *extra time* in the morning.  We walked into school as a family, snapped pictures.  Huzzah.

Then the older one and I went to Target (take three) for dividers, a calculator and a locker shelf, and then wound through the crowded halls of his new school hunting for the classrooms on his schedule. .  He left impatient for tomorrow to come.

Victories!  But somewhere in those hours of full-immersion smiling, hello-ing, catching up and then more whirred wide-eyed hello-ing at the new school, my extrovert energy drained.
Drained.

By the time I picked my youngest up from the cute line of kindergarteners, all that was left of me was my body, with a face that couldn't move, a voice that didn't modulate, and eyes that communicated no expression.  Then that person stood at the park for half an hour trying to field conversation...

It's now 5:01PM.  I feel like I've carried a 50 pound backpack through the desert for hours.  My head hurts.  I want to lie on the ground.  A gallon of water would probably be beneficial, but instead I am drinking wine.

This sounds dramatic.  I know.

No one else in the house seems to feel this way.  The kindergartener who complained all the way to the park and then whine-cried through pick ups and drop offs  seemed to get it, but now that we’re home, she’s happily sitting at the table designing “wallpaper.”  The others are sprinting around a soccer  field  and doing pushups and sparring at the dojo.

And then there's me.

Could it be because I woke up at 3am on Sunday for a flight that I'd accidentally booked for 6:27PM rather than AM?  Maybe a little. Or the hormones of this particular week?  Perhaps.  Or the sheer overwhelm of calendaring?  Probably.  Or the comatose exhaustion that’s compensating for not *feeling* the September changes (a 5'3" man-boy)?  Likely.

So here I sit wondering why someone would schedule soccer practice the first day of school?
Why martial arts meets so late and how that kid will get home?  What anyone is going to eat for dinner?  how to drum up so. Many. Carpools?  And if Kindergarteners will be exhausted and crabby people all of September?

My glass is empty and it’s closer to 6. I am off to stare into the refrigerator, hoping to conjure dinner.  Cheers to day one!