Showing posts with label women's suffrage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women's suffrage. Show all posts

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Political Persistence

I spent time this past weekend at the state board meeting for the League of Women Voters of
Pennsylvania. One of our goals was to revisit vision and values.

Vision draft:  informed, engaged voters; effective, responsive government. 

Values listed: non-partisan, respectful, fact-based, trusted, persistent.

We will need to be persistent indeed if we hope to realize the vision. Only informed, engaged voters will make possible an effective, responsive government. Only an effective, responsive government will create space and motivation for informed, engaged voters. It’s a chicken and egg sort of construct. And both chicken and egg are in very bad health.

This week was the 100th anniversary of a parade in Chicago asking the Republican party to include a plank supporting women’s right to vote.

In spite of a heavy storm, over 5,000 women showed up to march in the rain, while inside the convention hall, a group of anti-suffrage women testified that women did NOT want the right to vote. According to a Chicago paper:
As if timed to the instant, through the doors of the hall came the drenched and bedraggled marchers for suffrage. They pushed up to the platform, they massed down below, they scattered out over the hall and still they came pouring through the doors…as the shock of surprise yielded, several of [the delegates] on the platform smiled in understanding amusement, as if the incongruity of that outworn charge had at last been comprehended.
 The Republican Party did adopt a suffrage plank, as did the Democratic Party two weeks later. Four years after that, the 19th Amendment, extending the right to vote to women, was finally ratified.

That change was the fruit of over a century of work led by a persistent, passionate, very brave band of women.

The gathering in Seneca Falls, New York in 1848 is often listed as the start of the suffrage movement, but read the biography of Lucretia Coffin Mott and it’s clear the work began decades before. 

As a young teacher at a Quaker boarding school in New York, she learned that the fee "for the education of girls was the same as that for boys.” Yet, “when they became teachers, women received but half as much as men for their services.”

“The injustice of this was so apparent," Mott recalled in an autobiographical sketch, "that I early resolved to claim for my sex all that an impartial Creator had bestowed."

Married at 18 in 1811, Mott became a Quaker minister in 1821 and spoke often and passionately about the systemic immorality of slavery. When shut out of the American Anti-Slavery Society by white Christian men, she helped found the Female Anti-Slavery Society in 1833, one of the first racially mixed organizations in the country.

While organizing to end slavery, the group also worked to build literacy and leadership skills in black communities, provided shelter to runaway slaves and raised funds to improve living conditions for impoverished black families.

That work was done under the constant threat of violence from white males attempting to silence them. 

Mott's persistence awes me. Her courage inspires me.

I’ve posted before about my work for redistricting reform in Pennsylvania. We had a setback this week, as the Government Reform Caucus decided not to endorse the bills we’re supporting. Pennsylvania politics as usual.

The next day I had a long conversation with an older man who wanted to make clear change is not legislatively possible: “The Republicans have had that legislature LOCKED DOWN for fifty years.” 

He repeated the phrase “locked down" with gusto multiple times: it’s locked down, it won’t change, and any Republican who votes for reform is committing political suicide.

Maybe so, but at last count the bills we endorse had 13 Republican co-sponsors.

And as I reminded him cheerfully: I’m part of the League of Women Voters. We don’t think change is easy, but we tend to be persistent.

Even so, I find myself marveling at the persistence and sacrifice of Lucretia Mott. She did not like politics, based as it inevitably is on moral compromise.  Yet she saw the connections among the issues that concerned her: freedom, literacy, peace, alleviation of need.

She was 47 when she was forced to sit – in silence - in a separate women’s section at the World’s Anti-Slavery Convention in London. 55 when she and Elizabeth Cady Stanton organized their own women’s rights convention at Seneca Falls in 1848.

She was 71 in 1864 when she helped found Swarthmore College, one of the first coeducational colleges in the country. She was 73 in 1866 when she helped organize and became the first president of the American Equal Rights Association, formed “to secure Equal Rights to all American citizens, especially the right of suffrage, irrespective of race, color or sex."

She was 87 when she died in 1880, three decades before women finally received the right to vote.

Next weekend I’ll be attending the national League of Women Voters Convention in Washington, DC. On Saturday morning I’ll be leading a caucus on building coalitions and finding allies for redistricting reform.

Reading through the history of the work is a little discouraging. Lots of names. Lots of bills. Only a few states where real change has been accomplished.

In his farewell speech in 1989, Ronald Reagan said that “high on his agenda” would be “talking up the need to do something about political gerrymandering. This is the practice of rigging the boundaries of congressional districts. It is the greatest single blot on the integrity of our nation’s electoral system, and it’s high time we did something about it.

The League of Women Voters, in states across the country, has been working on this since at least 1990. That’s three rounds of redistricting ago.  If the practice was a blot on the integrity of the electoral system back in 1989, it’s now a spreading, smothering stain.  

With the constant improvement of mapping systems, the fine-tuning of data mining and the millions of dollars invested by both parties in capturing state legislatures, gerrymandering has made competitive elections almost impossible and has eliminated real choice at almost every level.

Reform coalitions have come and gone as invisible funding sources co-opt good intentions and inevitable discouragement saps energy and interest. 

Even so, there are redistricting reform coalitions in more than a dozen states. I’m hoping to meet the leaders during my time in DC.

We’ll be voting at the convention on a new redistricting position, created by a national task force that has studied the problem, researched solutions and drafted recommendations.

The position recommends an end to the conflict of interest that allows politicians to draw their own maps. It endorses adoption of independent commissions with strong standards for transparency, public input, fairly drawn lines.

I’m sure it will pass with strong support.

At the same time, I don’t envision anyone marching in the streets. Redistricting reform is a complicated issue and most Americans have trouble focusing past the first bullet point.

Somehow Lucretia Mott was able to make the connections clear: faith in God, confidence in the equality of all, reverence for life, sacrificial hospitality, literacy, voting rights, a longing for peace.

We are fractured, distracted, easily swayed by sound bites and simplistic answers.

Captive to an entrenched system that offers us little choice and pays little attention to the real needs, hopes and dreams of the average citizen.

In Pennsylvania, we have crowded jails, crumbling roads, immigrant families held in substandard detention facilities. We have the two most underfunded school systems and the most inequitable school funding structure in the country, outrageous property taxes, overlapping jurisdictions, a bloated, expensive government that accomplishes little and captures national attention for its incompetence and corruption.

Not long after the convention in Seneca Falls, Mott wrote: "Any great change must expect opposition, because it shakes the very foundation of privilege."

We are in a time of great change, and it’s hard to say where that change will lead.

As I worked on this post, I heard the sad news: fifty dead in Orlando.

The sixteenth time our current President has addressed the press to speak of a mass shooting.

Our electoral systems themselves make it less and less possible to come to agreement on issues like guns, immigration, taxes, war.

Anger feeds anger; hate breeds hate.

Violence encourages greater violence.

Will the foundations of privilege be shaken, as Lucretia Mott prayed, or will the foundations of democracy be fractured instead?

From where I sit today, it’s hard to say.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Honor the Past, Support the Future: Vote!

Election Day is Tuesday. 

And yes,  I can vote. 

And will.  

Too many people went too long without that right for me to take it lightly.

In 1776, Abigail Adams wrote to her husband John to “remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors. . . . If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation.”  

The ladies were not “remembered” when it came to the Constitution, an important point rarely mentioned by those who treat that document as sacred text. The war to end taxation without representation did little to ensure fair voting rights for all.

In 1848, a woman’s rights convention gathered in the Wesleyan Chapel in Seneca Falls, N.Y with almost 200 women in attendance “to discuss the social, civil, and religious condition and rights of women.” Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s Declaration of Sentiments and Grievances should be required reading in every American history class, a reminder that even those who fight for freedom are often thinking of their own freedom, not the rights and freedom of others.

For the next 72 years, Women’s Rights Conventions were held each year,  with women gaining the votein newly formed states and territories like Wyoming (1869), Utah (1870) and Washington (1883).  States where democracy was the oldest were among those most reluctant to grant women the vote: Pennsylvania voted NO on a women’s suffrage referendum in 1915, despite a highly organized statewide campaign. Four years of hard work later, Congress passed the Nineteenth Amendment, and Pennsylvania was the sixth state to ratify it, to in June, 1919.

Votes for women came painfully slowly. Votes for other groups seemed to come more quickly, but with more ongoing backlash, and more violence along the way. Early state constitutions extended the right to vote to all free male adult property owners, regardless of ethnicity or country of origin. By the time of the Civil War, property ownership as precondition had been removed, but  states and territories had imposed other conditions: poll taxes, literacy requirements, religious restriction banning “non-Protestants.”  

The Reconstruction Act of 1867 required the former Confederate states to approve new constitutions ratified by an electorate that included black as well as white men, and to ratify the Fourteenth Amendment, which made clear that former slaves were to be given status equal to other citizens. 

That was swiftly followed by the Fifteen Amendment, which states “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.”

And that Amendment was swiftly followed by a host of state and local laws designed to exclude “certain elements” from access to the vote: arbitrary literacy tests, limited hours for voter registration, burdensome poll taxes. Mississippi, where  90 percent of black voting-age men registered to vote in the years following the Civil War, cut that number to less than 6 percent by 1892. It has never since been as high as 90 percent.

I was eight in 1964, the summer three civil rights activists were murdered in Mississippi while registering black voters. One, Michael Schwerner,  was from my hometown of Pelham, New York, classmate and friend of one of my uncles. He, James Chaney  and Andrew Goodman were missing for 44 days before their bodies were found buried deep in an earthen dam. They had gone to investigate the burning of a black church, had been arrested by police on trumped-up charges, and then released to the waiting Ku Klux Klan.

According to the coroner’s report, the two northern white men, Schwerner and Goodman, had each been shot once in the heart. James Chaney, the black man from Mississippi, had been shot three times and badly beaten. The doctor who examined his body testified: “I have never witnessed bones so severely shattered.” 

In 1969, after years of legal dodges and great public outcry, TheFifth Circuit of the United States Court of Appeals ruled: "we find ample proof of conspiracy and each appellant's complicity in a calculated, cold-blooded and merciless plot to murder the three men.” 

Of the more than twenty men implicated in the deaths, none were convicted of murder, and only six served time, none more than six years. 

The Voting Rights Act of 1965 was a response to the escalating violence that flared into national view during the events surrounding the march on Selma. The Act attempted to put an end to discriminatory election practices, outlawing poll taxes and literacy tests, with the force of federal prosecution and both civil and criminal penalties. It provided immediate relief from obstacles to voting, but also put in place a preclearance mechanism for certain states and jurisdictions to prevent passage of new election laws and procedures that would thwart the act’s intent and create new barriers to inclusive elections.

The Act was renewed and amended in 1970 and 1975, renewed and amended for 25 years in 1982, reauthorized again for another 25 years in 2006

Seven years later, on June 25, 2013, in Shelby County vs. Holder, the Supreme Court overturned a key provision of the Act, invalidating Section 4, which defined which jurisdictions required pre-approval of election law. The ruling required Congress to establish new criteria before pre-approval rules could be applied.
 
A Voting Rights Amendment Act was introduced in Congress in January 2014 and again in January 2015. An even stronger Voting Rights Advancement Act was introduced in June 2015.  Voting rights advocates across the country have called for passage of those bills, to little effect. Meanwhile, legislators across the country have produced a flurry of election law bills, many that would limit voter access, others that would make voting more accessible.

On this All Saints Day, I find myself pausing over the names of those who saw the opportunity to vote as essential first step to a life of full inclusion.

I marvel at the perseverance of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Jeanette Rankin, Alice Paul, Lecretia Mott.

And I’m humbled by the courage of  Chaney, Shwermer and Goodman, Medgar Evans, Martin Luther King, so many more, known and unknown.

For them, the right to vote, for themselves and others, was an all-consuming vision.

For too many of us, it’s a minor interruption, an aggravating obligation tacked on to an already too-busy day.

Yes, our system of democracy, especially here in Pennsylvania, makes informed voting hard.

We have elections on one mid-week work day, difficult for those who work long shifts, travel long distances to work, juggle public transportation, child-care, inconvenient work hours.

And we have many levels of elected officials – more in the US than other countries, more in PA than any other state.  

And yes, it’s difficult to find objective information about all those candidates. Hard sometimes even to understand the office they’re running for. (Prothonotory? Really????).

I confess, sometimes I don’t vote the person, I vote the idea: for the less-dominant party, for the independent candidate, for candidate from an under-represented population.  For the candidate who DIDN’T engage in personal accusations.

But I also spend time at least trying to make an informed choice: 
  1. Locate my pollingplace (and polling place number)  
  2. Check my local ballot (in some places, Vote411 is helpful. Or google “county name sample ballot”. Here’s Chester County’s.) 
  3. Read the candidates' websites. 
  4. Look to see who endorses them and why. (For the PA Judicial Races, the PA Bar has provided PAVoteSmart, which contains candidate recommendations for PA Supreme Court, Superior Court,  and Commonwealth Court.
And yes, I vote. Knowing the system is imperfect. 

Knowing my vote, alone, counts for little.

Doing what I can to honor sacrifices of the past.

Offering what I can to support the voting rights of the future.



Other recent posts on PA politics:

Earlier posts on elections and voting: 
Additional issues posts are listed on on What's Your Platform?

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Silent Sentinels




If I had lived a hundred years ago, would I have been one of the silent sentinels, the women who stood outside the White House, day and night, from January 1917 to June 1919, advocating for the right to vote?

Would I have risked public humiliation to march with the suffragettes? Or would I have stayed home, even more silent, waiting for others to win the freedom I wanted?

Rotate the question just a little: if I lived in Damascus, now, would I be actively protesting Assad’s tyranny, or quietly waiting for things to blow over?

If I lived in Cairo, would I be finding my way to Tehrir Square?

We look back with rosy glasses to our own Declaration of Independence without much thought about the crisis of conscience faced by those called on to sign it. Robert Livingston, member of the five-man committee that met to craft its wording, never signed. Other delegates took their time adding their names; at least three refused to sign.

We forget that there were Loyalists, or Tories, maybe as many as one in five colonists, who sided with the status quo. And we forget that there were many who were neutral – hoping the conflict would pass them by, not sure independence was worth the cost.

I approach Independence Day with a sense of uneasiness. In part, I wonder if the holiday celebrates war, and wonder: if Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India, other colonies gained independence without war, would the same have been possible if the American colonists had exercised greater restraint, greater patience, more creative means of persuasion?

But my uneasiness also stems from a sense of unearned privilege: what have I ever done to deserve the freedoms denied to so many? And what have I done to use those freedoms wisely, or to see them extended to those without?

If freedom is a gift, it’s a gift with a cost, and a weight of responsibility.

What happens when too many of us take our freedoms for granted, or exercise our rights without adequate attention?

The Supreme Court decision last week on the Affordable Care Act threw the question into high relief.

Some people I know and respect listened to the news, then turned quickly to others things. “I’m not interested.” “Politics bores me.” These are people who care deeply about the needs of the world, who give time, money, prayer for those in trouble. These friends quickly dismiss the idea that a piece of legislation could be part of caring for human need, or that concern for others should prompt attention to political process. To them, the actions of government are irrelevant.

Others I know saw the court’s decision as a victory in the war on women. I understand why they use the term, but it seems to me that once we start thinking in terms of “war,” we are all losers. War breeds violence, hatred, inevitable loss. Are there better ways to carry on the discussion?

Yet others in my circle of friends consider the Affordable Care Act a dangerous move toward socialism, think President Obama is destroying the country, and are focusing great energy on seeing him defeated in November. People who have never invested much time in the political process are energized and angry. The more I listen, the more I wonder: What’s fueling the anger?

From what I can see, the Affordable Care Act is an imperfect attempt to resolve a wide mix of troubling problems: insurance companies that pocket too much profit and drive our health expenses ever higher; individuals with no primary care who use emergency rooms as their sole source of medical attention; a growing list of “existing conditions” that make adequate coverage impossible; families bankrupted when a parent loses both job and insurance and health expenses swallow a lifetime of savings. And yes, a system that costs women more in premiums, and sometimes denies women the legitimate care they need.

M Turner Obamacare
From what I can tell, the ACA is already benefitting many young adults, caught in part-time jobs while they look for full-time work that will offer health benefits and a salary adequate to pay back college loans. It’s benefitting friends who have struggled with existing conditions, and will eventually make preventive care possible for friends who currently postpone appointments and stop taking medications because they can’t afford them.

The issue for me, though, isn’t so much this particular legislation, it’s the conversation surrounding it. Are those who disagree with me on specific points evil monsters, or well-intentioned people who see things differently? Is Barack Obama an evil man? Is he trying to destroy America?

When a leader – on any side – advocates a policy or position I disagree with, am I free to speak of him as the enemy? Am I free to respond with anger? Am I justified in listening to public diatribes that ridicule, disrespect, misrepresent?

I understand those who run from any political dialogue because they’re tired of the angry rhetoric, or bored by the unstoppable harangues.

And I understand those who grab the party platform, endorse the party favorites, and dismiss all opposition.

But as a Christian, a follower of Christ, steward of gifts I’ve been given, including the right to vote, to speak, to investigate, I find myself caught in a troubling conundrum:

I believe I’m to honor and respect those in authority, even when I disagree with them.

I’m also to look for the best in others, to want their good, to rejoice in the truth.

I’m to listen more than I speak, to seek and model wisdom. I’m to advocate for the poor, earnestly desire justice, demonstrate humility.

And I’m called, as all followers of Christ are called, to be a peacemaker. Do I interpret that globally, advocating for an end to war? Nationally, advocating for peace between parties? Personally, looking for points of agreement with individuals whose opinions challenge mine? All three? Is that possible?

Here are a few questions I take seriously, and will be puzzling and praying about as we near the next election:

What is God for? I hear, maybe too often, about what He's against. But spread our priorities out in front of His word: which ones are worth pursuing? Which aren’t?

Should government be concerned with private morality (sexual expression, family composition), or with public morality (issues of equality, just policy, equitable economy)? Both? Neither? Is it possible to separate the two?

Is the best government the smallest? What are the proper roles of government? What happens when those roles are abandoned?

What is my own responsibility? Is it enough to be a good parent, wife, neighbor, here, in my own small part of the world, or am I called to use the privileges I’ve been given to advocate for others less able to advocate for themselves?

Who stands for the common good? Is it okay to pursue policies that benefit me, my own group, my own demographic, or am I called to affirm policies that benefit all of us – not just Americans, not just Christians, but all nations, all creation?

A Chinese proverb warns: "Unless we change direction, we are likely to end up where we are headed."

Or, as a wise friend of mine recently said "Unless something changes, nothing changes."

Are we headed in the right direction? As a country? As individual followers of Christ?

And if not, what do I need to change in my own life, in my own conversations, actions, expectations?

And what will that change cost?

lines for first Tunisian democratic election, October 201

This is the first in a series about faith and politics: What's Your Platform?



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