The Good News About Justice Barrett

October 27, 2020 By: Juanita Jean Herownself Category: Uncategorized

We’ve been through a year of darkness, so I found an upside to Amy Coney Barrett’s confirmation:  You don’t have to set your clock back this weekend.  She’s doing that for us.

Except like years and years and years backward.

 

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0 Comments to “The Good News About Justice Barrett”


  1. Jane & PKM says:

    ACB is right in line with Moscow Mitch and breaking the pendulum of progress.

    https://1.bp.blogspot.com/–vyDAB-qe1Q/X3BEPDeTWoI/AAAAAAAAWIM/03l21PHHWLYFi70QiTlfxjiPAQSJ3F72ACLcBGAsYHQ/s800/cartoon10-mike092720.jpg

    “When the pendulum swings too far in one direction, it will go back.” RBG 2017

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  2. I sometimes wonder whether exposure to Sotomayor and Kagan will eventually break through that Stepford exterior of hers…at least a little. She seems very robotic and controlled to me which would go along with that cult she is involved in. Being around women who are intelligent and think for themselves might just penetrate her brain.

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  3. If Barrett is a true Constitutional originalist shouldn’t she have turned down the Supreme Court nomination? The founders would never have considered including a woman on the bench, much less let them vote.

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  4. Just said to spouse, I remember the 1950s and they weren’t so great. Yeah, he said, they were ok for people like us. Huh? White boys like him, maybe, but all I got was No (baseball glove) No (playing football) No (chemistry set) and Why can’t you act like a lady?

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  5. Elizabeth Moon says:

    lazrgrl: Yup. Nope, you can’t use the monkeybars, little boys might see your underwear. No, don’t swing so high (same excuse), but also no, you can’t wear pants to school, you’re a girl. You shouldn’t run so fast; girls aren’t supposed to run faster than boys. You shouldn’t be so smart; girls aren’t supposed to make higher grades in math than boys. No, you can’t play football, that’s only for boys. No, you can’t grow up to be a fighter pilot, that’s only for boys. My mother (a *gasp* divorced woman!! And an engineer!!) wouldn’t let me have a chemistry set, or an erector set but for a practical reason…a) cost and b) she had seen what I did with TinkerToys and Lincoln Logs which she did get me (not following directions, and leaving things in a mess.) I am the kid who extracted the electric motor and drive shaft from a toy boat someone gave me and combined it with rubberbands and TinkerToy parts to make a water wheel that did in fact scoop up water from a cake pan and throw it…across the room (not my intent at all. It was supposed to move the water into a pie plate that was lower than the cake pan.)

    Anyway, there was a lot of “NO” to being a girl in the 50s. Don’t be loud. Don’t be messy. Let boys win. Don’t show off. Don’t be interested in boy things (with a mother who’d been in charge of quality control in an aircraft factory in WWII? Who designed houses for people? Who was, in addition, a good rider, a crack shot, an expert swimmer and diver?) No, you can’t take shop classes in school. No, you can’t take mechanical drawing (which I’d been learning from my mother…and she overruled that one.) No, you shouldn’t have been given that science prize and you should give it up in favor of a boy because you’ll never do anything with science… Be pretty (which I wasn’t), be tidy, neat, organized, clean, “sweet”, thoughtful, helpful, “busy in helping out” but don’t be smart, talkative, messy, active, creative, and competitive except in the few things girls could compete in (neatness, prettiness, cheer-leading.) I liked to cook–but made things up, changed recipes to see what would happen. Hated ruffles. Didn’t want to think about how I looked every minute because I knew I wasn’t good-looking. I was lousy at sewing and found it frustrating.

    I didn’t want to be a boy. I wanted the privileges boys had automatically, the assumption that boys were smart, strong, competent, capable of learning and doing interesting things. I never felt that I was in the wrong body…just the wrong society.

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