by Diane Elayne Dees
When I could not go along,
they called me "paleofeminist."
When I objected, they called
me "visceral." When I spoke
my mind, they dismissed me
as an "older woman." Now, this
visceral paleofeminist older woman
waits for the panel on women
to be given a budget, to hire a staff,
or to hold a meeting. I watch while
choice, along with pieces of the Constitution,
are tossed on the Washington trash
heap in exchange for something called
"healthcare reform." I feel no surprise
when the Justice Department files a brief
to defend husbands and wives
from gay marriage. I mourn for the mothers
and babies who will die from the red slash
in the global AIDS budget. And yes,
I become angry
when I remember the soldiers who hide,
weapon at the ready, in a closet in Iraq,
Afghanistan and Fort Polk.
And I cannot go along.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
Diane Elayne Dees is a writer and psychotherapist in Louisiana. Diane also publishes Women Who Serve, a blog about women's professional tennis.
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