It was in the Juneau International Airport this week when it struck home: The American Left has twisted its mission of “liberation of the oppressed” into a pretzel. It is now merely a Coalition of Grievances that lifts up oppression as an American value.
A white, retirement-age man sat near me in the departure lounge waiting for his flight. His gray sweatshirt bore the image of a Muslim woman with perfect features and bright red lips wearing a headscarf made of an American flag, and some script from the Constitution imprinted nearby: “We the People” — the sort of script you usually see conservatives wearing on their ball caps.
You’ve seen this hajib-wearing image by now all over the media. Campy and unexpected, it has replaced the Barack Obama HOPE poster as the image d’jour for the liberal agenda. It’s the new symbol for “those who oppose.”
And yet, there’s a deep irony that cannot be ignored: Muslim women wear the headscarf for religious reasons, for modesty, and because for many of them, they simply have no choice. They have no choice about most of their lives. Many of them are living under oppressive regimes that will stone them to death if they don’t submit.
The American flag headscarf is a lovely touch, but most Muslim women don’t wear bright red lips. Many of them are beaten by their husbands, and their genitals are mutilated at a young age. Their faces, so often, cannot be shown outside the home. They don’t get medical care.
The hajib, a symbol of liberation and our Constitution? When did it become normalized for progressives to lift up the oppression and marginalization of women as their symbol of freedom?
Whether it’s a day without pink knit hats or a day without hajibs, I don’t want a day without women. I want a day without fake identify politics and fictitious grievances.
I’m a hat-wearing woman who wants her a days filled with hard work ahead, problems to solve, checklists to punch, people to help, communities to serve, friends to comfort, and so much to do I cannot get to it all.
I want a day with dozens of phone calls, some laughter, and just enough face-palm moments to keep me alert.
I want the blessing of my women friends to call and text, and my men friends too. The voice of a child would be icing on the cake at any time of the day.
And I want my day to start and end with star-gazing, because it’s still winter-ish in Alaska. Most of all, I want to appreciate everyone who helps me get through the day and keep focused on the work I do best.
“A Day Without Women” may have been the day when Identity Politics jumped the shark and finally overstayed its welcome. But there’s been a quiet rebellion underway since early 2016, when most of America wondered why all lives didn’t matter, not just black lives. They were being bullied into silence, but they would have their say at the ballot box in November.
In January came the pussy-hat brigade, women and men wearing those adorable two-eared pink hats that represented female identity and power, and with them came the creative vulva-vagina costumes parading down the streets of every major city. Conservatives in America went to work, took care of children and elders, and tried to not judge the narcissists too harshly. They just silently removed offenders from their Facebook feeds.
Civil folk may be too polite to say it, but I will: “I could do with a day without all the drama.”
THE DAY AFTER THE DAY WITHOUT WOMEN
Fifteen-thousand students in Alexandria, Virgina didn’t attend school yesterday because too many of their teachers decided to take the day off in observation of “A Day Without Women.”
Over a thousand families were forced to find alternative care for their children on that day, because 300 women decided not to show up for work in the act of ultimate petulance.
It was an exercise that may have had unintended consequences.