The Perils of Ignoring “Credible”

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One year ago today I spent the day watching Dr. Christine Blazey Ford testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee. Her story of being assaulted by Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh was compelling, sobering, and for those of us sexual assault victims, triggering.  Immediately following her testimony, even some Republican Senators said she was “credible.” Remember that word? “Credible”? Of course that was before Mr. Kavanaugh gave his own defiant, angry testimony, announcing his affinity for beer, complaining bitterly how his life and his reputation and his family would be “ruined” if he was denied the big, professional prize, that Supreme Court seat.  As we all know now, Dr. Blazey Ford is the one whose life was ultimately ruined. By eleven white men.  I wrote this poem a year ago, but it seems fitting to publish it on the anniversary of her testimony.

11 White Men

Eleven white men sit in silence
afraid of optics
and history repeating

Eleven white men cede their time to a female prosecutor
cede expressions of empathy
until the witness becomes a man

Eleven white men push aside the prosecutor
comfort restored
optics no longer matter

Eleven white men vote in favor of the man
a credible accuser’s words
simply not enough

our divided nation watches
women’s voices be assaulted by
Eleven white men

 

Yesterday we heard that word again–“credible.” This time it was applied to a complaint filed by a courageous federal whistle-blower. “Credible,” said the Inspector General who reviewed the complaint and completed its initial investigation. “Credible,” said the Acting Director of National Intelligence yesterday, as he testified before the House Intelligence Committee.

There are consequences when our leaders ignore “credible” things. September 11th happened because “credible” threats were ignored. A tainted Supreme Court Justice sits on the bench because “credible” allegations were ignored, not only by the eleven white (Republican) men on the Judiciary Committee, but also by the FBI who was asked to dig deeper into Justice Kavanaugh’s behavior while he was drinking all of that beer in college, but ultimately did not contact any corroborating witness.

I realize that “credible” doesn’t automatically mean “true.” But when that word appears in the context of something important to our nation and its future, it is worth taking seriously. This latest “credible” allegation, which not only describes our President pressuring a foreign leader for personal political gain but also its apparent cover up, is no different. We should be paying attention to and supporting those who do take it seriously. And on November 3, 2020 we should pledge not to vote for those who don’t.

The Kindest Rejection

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Several months ago I submitted a handful of poems for the Rattle Poetry Prize. Rattle is a quarterly poetry journal published by the Rattle Foundation, a non-profit whose mission is to “promote the practice of poetry.” I was interested in the contest not only because it offers one of the largest prizes for a single poem in the world ($10,000), but also because the Foundation is local to southern California and has a stellar reputation for publishing poems it likes. In other words, you don’t have to be a highly published, “professional poet” with a lot of collections under your belt to have your work seriously considered.

I knew it was a long shot because the Rattle Poetry Prize attracts submissions from all over the world. This year the Foundation considered more than 14,000 poems among 3,606 entries. But rejections can always sting. Unless of course, they are written from a place of kindness and compassion — like this excerpt from my rejection notice.

One last note, which might go without saying, but just in case: The fact that we didn’t choose to publish any of the poems you submitted should not be considered a ruling on their or your merit. Poetry is always subjective, and our decision reflects nothing more than our honest opinion of which poems we liked most. Whether or not you choose to participate in the contest again, we hope you’ll keep sending us more poems in the form of regular submissions. Poems coming in unsolicited are really our life-blood–and outside of this contest there is never an entry fee. We love poetry, and we’re always happy to read. Don’t hesitate.

The kindness that emanated from this letter, written by Rattle’s Editor, Tim Green, erased most, if not all, of the rejection disappointment I might otherwise have felt. Rather than feel deflated, I feel honored and valued for having participated. Most of all, I feel proud for having the courage to press that “submit” button to begin with. My poem(s) didn’t win, and they won’t be published (yet). But rejection letters like this encourage me to keep trying. Thanks Mr. Green, and thanks to the Rattle Foundation for helping to make poetry matter.

P.S. — A big, hearty congratulations to Matthew Dickman from London, United Kingdom for winning this year’s Rattle Poetry Prize. I can’t wait to read his poem, “Stroke” and the poems of the other 10 finalists who will be featured in this winter’s issue of Rattle (#66).

Reflections on 9/11

Eighteen years ago today commercial airplanes were hijacked and flown into the twin towers of the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania. I remember exactly where I was while it was happening and how I ended up spending the rest of that day, which has been seared into into my memory along with the horrible images from it. You probably have the same vivid recollections.

The attack on 9/11 was a turning point for our country, where the trauma of terror (once something thought to happen only “over there”) became a real and present danger here at home. It marked a generation that has never known anything but the presence of terror, first caused by Al-Qaeda that sad September day, and now caused by mass shootings (which school children now drill for), persistent bullying (usually triggered by perpetrators’ deep insecurities), and other anxieties about things like the crisis of climate change. These things were not part of my childhood existence and it breaks my heart to know they are the norm for today’s children.

I know there is no going back to those seemingly innocent times–and in some ways that’s a good thing. Young people today seem much more inclusive of different people, because the importance of inclusion has been drilled into their heads even more than duck and cover. They get it that we are supposed to love and accept everyone, regardless of race or religion or cultural heritage or sexual orientation or gender identity or you name it.  They don’t understand why this concept is so hard for older generations to understand and live by. (Hey–that’s their perception. I’m merely reporting it!) Our youth are almost universally opposed to gun violence and the reckless ways our state and federal laws continue to allow people to own more guns than they need and to allow the purchase of guns and accoutrements designed more for the casualties of combat, than “for sport.” Their advocacy for a better, safer world gives me hope.

In these days of anxiety and chaos it is so hard to find calm or feel peace.  We continue search for it–many of us even pay good money for apps in the hope that the portals of our smart phones will provide it. When in reality, perhaps what we most need is less connection with technology and its impersonality and more connection with the physical voice and presence of another human being.

9/11 brought Americans together in a significant, powerful way that many of us remember as vividly as the terror itself. May we allow that communal connection (and our craving for it) to guide our actions today and in all the days to come.

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