Twenty minutes until midnight, a question was posed by Senator Leticia Van de Putte. A question that came, slowly, from a careful, sticky-sweet voice of measured outrage. Twenty three words that were the only words left for the only question left to be asked and answered: At what point must a female senator raise her hand or her voice to be recognized over her male colleagues in the room? The answer began as applause, but soon became a deafening, outcome-changing roar. I have been asked if it was planned. If we were encouraged by someone. If we knew it was coming. The truth is this: when you have no words left, when every word spoken has fallen on deaf ears, when the representative you have chosen to speak is no longer allowed to do so, sometimes all there is left to do is scream. The final 20 minutes of the peoples filibuster was a manifestation of the impact of every word that had been said but not truly heard in the Senate that day. Because while the Republicans in power chose not to listen, we had been listening. We had been sitting. We had been waiting. We had no words, but we stood and we had a voice.
Posted on: Tue, 24 Jun 2014 23:03:33 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015