Promises Unfulfilled

Today marks the 100th Anniversary of the 19th Amendment to the Constitution, granting the universal right to vote for women throughout the US. The Seneca Falls Convention of women (Frederick Douglas attended one day, as may have some other men) is credited with the beginning of the movement, though voting was not its primary purpose.

The Reconstruction Amendments, which in addition to abolishing slavery gave the right to vote to Black men at least in theory, promoted a resurgence among many women to advocate for the right to vote. Women had gained the right to vote in a number of states admitted to the Union, which also served to highlight the lack of the right in most states.

The story of the 19th Amendment is well documented in Wikipedia, and also in a very nice editorial and article in the New York Times. My grandmother, who was born in 1899, turned 21 in 1920 and gained the right to vote 100 years ago. She was a tall, strong woman from Texas who first homesteaded in California’s Central Valley, where she taught in a one-room schoolhouse. She had a college degree in a time when that was rare, even for men. The thought that she grew up not believing she would be able to vote is as abhorrent to me as is the efforts still made today to prevent minorities from voting.

The Times added an interesting article today, the day the 19th Amendment was certified and became official. Politics being the scummy thing it too often is, the article covers some of the underhanded steps taken to thwart final approval of the women’s right to vote.

I’ve pondered this topic and the biases behind it in the weeks leading up to this anniversary. That topic and a biblical story came together in my mind and prompted this poem that seems fitting in a way to share.

 Nameless

Perhaps it was best not to have a name

other than “the wife of Shem”

given all we of the last and first again 

of women have endured

but I do have a story for you

that may bring a knowing smile but which

you must keep among we of the red tent

I do admit the old man was wise – 

in his six-hundred year-old way – 

to heed his God but as men often do

he would not stop for directions

when we mentioned that 

an old and small man’s cubit

might make for a crowded home

That he built that house of his

shaped as a ship of sorts

seemed eccentric it’s true

but it kept him busy and

mostly out of the vineyard

though the neighbors were sure

he’d been into the goatskins again

And not to seem ungrateful

but any woman would know

that only one window and door

was no way to build a home that

would reek of pitch and gophers’ wood

and so we humored him for his sons –

whose names you do know

The rains the old man promised

did come though softly at first

but shelter of any kind was welcome

so I demurely held my tongue 

as we women were taught to do

when he decided he should

bring the flocks in as well

But things turned for the worse

when he felt pity in the gathering storm

on lions and tigers and bears

and all manner of creeping things

though the birds I’ll say were a nice touch

but for all of our sake if not for God’s

it was I who said no to the lizard giants

Now my daughter’s daughter’s daughters

you are blessed in your way not to know 

how God-awfully long it rained

or to remember the cries of those without

who the old man piously claimed

his God had deemed wicked and corrupt 

though one may wonder – if but to herself

In the course of time some man will surely write 

of this tale as an epic of a great man and his God 

at the end of one world and the beginning of another

but know this from one whose name time will soon forget 

there was more to this story we women must pass on 

to our daughters and on to theirs ever and anon

and if there is a lesson at all in this it is 

There have always been and will ever be

some good and far too many evil among men

there has always been a rainbow above 

for all who had insight simply to see 

and much more for we who look with open eyes

discern with wisdom and sense with open hearts 

though we will soon be forgotten

We will forever abide and raise sons in eternal hope 

they may someday learn all we know so true and well

and we will bear daughters such as you

to offer promise for the tomorrows to come

when we shall be known and praised

in our time in names deserved to be known 

for ever having saved mankind from itself

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The Last Word

After all is said and done, more is said than done.

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