[Author's Note:  This essay has been ACCEPTED for inclusion in the upcoming book, 51%: Women and the Future of Politics.  The editors have expanded it and renamed it to include the theme from my piece, The Enlightened Middle Majority, and Why 'The Sides' Are Alienating Us.  You can follow this link to their website http://www.womenandpolitics.us and/or their Facebook page at womenandpolitics.us.  They have also conducted a survey, the results of which will be included when the book is released before the upcoming presidential election.]
The following represents the essay, as originally submitted:

An image that has persisted in my mind during President Barack Obama’s Administration, is that of a bunch of fat white men sitting around a paneled room smoking cigars, nodding with the one who says, “That boy will never see another term.”  Sure, President Bill Clinton had the ‘Grinch Mob,’ but as a president, despite his obvious flaws as a husband, he still enjoyed a good deal of support.  A circle of life concluded between Republican Abraham Lincoln freeing the slaves and Democrat Barack Obama becoming president, and in contrast, he has conducted himself with the utmost class.  I suspect, however, that the Obamas navigate Washington circles amid an undercurrent of discrimination.  I’m not ready to commit my vote yet, but never in my awareness of politics can I remember a president being so vehemently opposed and, God help our country, I feel strongly that it’s because he’s black.

This seems to be the only ideal the Republican Party is united about these days, and the desire to squash a sitting president does not an effective campaign make.  The GOP does not have it together, and that’s what scares away those of us in the middle.  As proven by the disastrous McCain/Palin ticket, you can’t just dress up an ill-prepared hockey mom, put lipstick on her, shove her onto a national platform and expect her to save your party.  She may walk like a duck and squawk like a duck, but she’s still just a good ol’ boy dressed in drag.

The Democrats, however, are guilty, too.  They sit back quietly on their laurels, and when the GOP begins to take too much ground, they occasionally throw out the reminder that still gets many women to vote their way: “Watch out!  They’re all out to take away abortion!”  The Democrats seem to think it’s the only winning card they have to play.  We have to ask ourselves whom it really behooves to keep throwing the right to choose up for fisticuffs.  I said it as Poky Puppy ADD It Again, in my featured piece on BlogHer.com, The Enlightened Middle Majority and Why ‘The Sides’ Are Alienating Us:

     “But that's all any of us really want, and it’s the very foundation on which this country was built. We still don't want         anyone to tell us whom we must worship, where we must worship, or that we have to worship at all, nor do we wish     to stop anyone who wants to do so. Freedom of religion must also mean freedom from religion, and religious doctrines     simply cannot enter into a political discussion of our rights as Americans. I believe in God. But I don't want anyone to         tell me that I have to.”

So uphold Roe vs. Wade, take the right to choose off the table, as it must be, and see what kind of progress we can make on all the other issues.  I believe suddenly the discourse would become far more productive.

The only other cohesive message that seems to come from the Republican side is from that ultra conservative Christian sector, which isn’t what this country wants or needs.  What we are aching for, what this whole 51% thing is about, is the hope and the desire and, dammit, the demand for a voice of reason; to speak out and say, “Enough already!”  I suspect that voice will be a woman’s; to represent the middle majority and do what’s really good for this country as a whole.  In the meantime, if everyone would stop opposing so vehemently and start participating in bi-partisan cooperation, great things could be accomplished now. 

Women hold treasures far more valuable than brute strength:  flexibility, common sense, diplomacy, the ability to multi-task and keep entire families together, to balance and stay within budgets, to go Momma Bear, Tiger Mom, and even Hockey Mom and fight to the death for our clan when we must.  We do this while our men-folk bump chests, bully and bluster and attempt to bend the world with their military prowess.  We are cut open or ripped open to give birth, yet the entire problem both parties have can be summed up in these few words:  They Under-Estimate Us.  We survive rape and breast cancer, poverty and oppression, and we possess strength beyond imagination.

Except that we imagine it.  We understand it--live it--we keep it close and we keep it quiet in order to keep peace, exercising it only when we must.  Well, my sisters, we must.  Whether we lean to the right or to the left, we can no longer afford to just hold our collective breaths and hope for the best.  We must act now.  We must be willing to mix it up with the boys and spar a little; to stand up and let our altos and sopranos and our keyboards be heard.  We are the 51%.  We are the Enlightened Middle Majority and we are the future; of politics, of our nation’s success and of the very continuation of our race. 

I can’t imagine what sort of resistance a woman president might one day be subjected to, but I know this:  ‘They’ won’t know what size Jimmy Choos hit them.


[Here's the link to the first post, "My Friends Think I'm The Only Liberal They Know.  I Don't Know What I Am," which was featured on BlogHer.com, before "The Enlightened Middle Majority And Why 'The Sides' Are Alienating Us," was featured on the same site.  Of course, they are originally posted here, but the comments of the many brilliant readers on BlogHer make for entertaining reading as well.]

My girlfriend’s adorable picture on Facebook of her son’s crazy hair for school today (not my kid, so I won’t share it, but here’s a pretty crazy one of my own from a few years back), and another mom-friend talking about doing seven crazy ponytails in her daughter’s hair got me thinking; and remembering.  I also had a nice telephone conversation with my oldest daughter, Sara, this morning and a blissful 70-minute one with my step-daughter, Rachel, this afternoon.  I didn’t get much writing done today, but it made me so nostalgic for when we were all together under one roof, in one state.  It was brief and it wasn’t always easy, but those were blissfully chaotic and wonderful years before Sara left to go off to college, and too soon after, Rachel graduated and got her own apartment.

My boy has never been one to let me do a thing to his hair, even when his sisters were around and wanted to spike it all the time.  ONE time he allowed me to spike it for his school picture, but when Grandma said she didn’t like it; never again.  Not once since.  Not even for Crazy Hair Day.  But it’s my very favorite school picture of him, ever.  And his big sisters would probably agree.

I now have my boy trained to tell his dad, “Not Your Department,” whenever his mop gets too long, which I rather like, but Dad threatens to get out the clippers.  This phrase came up because when Rachel was little, her dad thought she needed a haircut and thought he was just the guy to see it done.  Well I was totally in the ex-wife’s corner on this one:  SO Not Dad’s Department!  It looked exactly like his sisters’ did, in their typical 70s Pageboys.  In fact, he probably wouldn’t admit it, but I bet he took an old picture out of his wallet of one of his sisters to show the stylist at the time.  I would have been furious with him if he’d done that to my girl.  Of course, Rachel and her sunny smile were adorable regardless, but that phrase has lived on in our family, forever more. 

The craziest hair times typically occur when girls are in their high school years.  They begin experimenting, asserting their independence and, depending on what they’re into at the time, might come home with half a head shaved or a shock of hot pink running through it.  My own high school photos range from a Barbra Streisand Main Event perm to Farrah Fawcett feathered bangs; not so bad, I guess. 

When my girls were in high school, straightening was all the rage, or Goth, but thankfully neither of them went there, so not too much craziness to report.  Except (and I’m sure at this point, she knows this is coming) when Rachel needed her hair done for Competitive Cheerleading:   We had to put it up in a high pony tail, then twist and wrap little individually sectioned pieces around flaming hot rubber noodles to make a gagillion ringlet curls all through the pony tail; but not before absolutely COATING both sides of each little section of hair with AquaNet hairspray.  The stench was bad enough, but my hands, forearms and even the tops of my feet would get absolutely coated in the stuff.  I wouldn’t do it upstairs because of the bamboo floors, so we did it in the basement and would both be nearly asphyxiated by the time we were done.  And lucky her, she’d have to sleep in it all night like that. 

Even with no fingerprints left to identify my cold, dead body (which could very well be a reality when she sees this example that shows her little brother isn't the only one in the family who will put on a crazy outfit from time to time), the unpleasant AquaNet arms, crusty nose hairs and my fingers literally sticking to one another, to her hair and to the rat tail comb, I wouldn’t trade those blessed moments with my spunky, funny, smart, loving and spectacularly beautiful step-daughter for anything in this world.  Especially on this long holiday weekend, far from home, I wish I could blink my eyes and spend an evening doing her hair and breathing AquaNet all over again.  I’d happily do Sara’s, too.  I know for sure my son will never let me do his, not even for Crazy Hair Day.  But he’d put on a crazy getup, have a blast and there would be lots of laughs with his Dad, sisters and all of us together under one roof again, if only for a moment.  (The things you can get away with when your daughters are an entire country away, however, can be rather fun!)

That's my new mantra.

As in:

I don't want to clean my son's bathroom (ew)...put on your Big Girl Panties, your rubber gloves and a face mask and just do it, preferably right before your shower, and maybe even naked.

I don't feel like walking today...put on your Big Girl Panties, your shoes and just do it.

I don't know what to write today...put on your Big Girl Panties, sit at your computer and just start typing.

I don't care to fight with my kid about eating his broccoli...put on your Big Girl Panties, make the damn broccoli and just set a good example and eat it yourself first.

And here's a big one:

I don't have a clue where to begin to help my kid succeed in school...put on your Big Girl Panties, talk to his teacher, and be willing to go in every day, STUDY THOSE MATH FACTS every day, and give him the opportunity to rise to the high expectations he is more than capable of meeting.  In other words, make him put on his Big Girl Panties.

Self-discipline has never been something I tap into easily.  But the payoffs are magical, numerous and probably limitless (I say probably because I only just started so I don't actually know for sure yet, but I have an inkling).  For instance, you won't be embarrassed when the Potty Queen is over, however briefly and unexpectedly, and must use your bathroom.  If you just put your shoes on first thing when you change your clothes in the morning, you'll be more likely to walk, which will feel great and your dog will love you even more and won't pester you so much when you're trying to write, which could eventually lead to something delightful and unexpected even if you didn't know in advance what you were sitting down to write that day, but that probably actually came to you while you were walking. 

And best of all, the kid who cried daily about math homework and took hours to complete five problems, suddenly answers, "Actually math," was his favorite thing at school, when, "Recess," was the usual answer to the daily question.  Not only that, he approaches homework enthusiastically, and completes it in a timely manner and has time to actually play after dinner on a weeknight.

So what if he still doesn't eat his broccoli with similar enthusiasm...neither do I.  But this recipe from The Barefoot Contessa might actually rectify that situation in the future.  And here you go, in case you need your own set of Big Girl Panties.

Never in a thousand dreams, would I have imagined myself a political blogger.  I may occasionally dangle my participles and I don’t know what up is.  I’m literally the farthest thing from a political pundit, and I’m just as shocked as my 7th grade English teacher, to whom I still owe a report on Greek Mythology.  I’m just a mom who wants to hear from someone who makes sense, who gets me.  Until very recently, when “My Friends Think I’m The Only Liberal They Know.  I Don’t Know What I Am” was featured on BlogHer, I wasn’t someone who wore her politics on her sleeve.  Maybe because of my waffling party alignment, and maybe because I was never sure people would still love me after a debate.  But the current political atmosphere no longer affords those of us in the middle the luxury to hide.

In the comment thread for My Friends Think, the brilliant Stacy Morrison, Editor in Chief at BlogHer.com said, “You know what I am? I am a woman, a mother, a worker, a home owner, a person, a voice, a collection of dreams and ideas, and I am proud to say that I truly believe people are allowed to think their own thoughts, all the time, even if I disagree with them. And, dammit, I am an American. Not a wave the flag American. Not a pointy-headed snob American. Just a person trying to make my life work and still have time for family, love and fun.”  That’s why she’s editor in chief.  In that one beautiful statement, she summed up what it’s like to be a woman and a mother in these difficult times.  She also said, “I think it's SO IMPORTANT that we find a way to lead the awful, ugly, unproductive political discourse toward this same idea of COMPLEXITY.”  Let me just say, I would switch teams, er…vote for Stacy Morrison.

About the same post, one of the wisest people I’m lucky enough to call friend said, “When I think of politics I think of the polarized world that we live in today. We, the public, are very programmed to measure everything, including politics, based on that polarity. Everything is good or bad, black or white, in or out, light or dark. I believe we are also trained to believe that where ever our personal choices fall, we must believe we are at the 'better' end of whatever scale we are using at that moment. …we are always 'right' and the other guy therefore, must always be 'wrong'. I see little effort put into coming together somewhere in the middle. I believe a little (or a lot) of tolerance would help balance the scales.”  She’s also the one who said she would describe me as enlightened, which is where the phrase the Enlightened Middle Majority came from.

Well, a la Flavia, “If I could sit across the porch from [those who think they’re] God,” and in response to Stacy Morrison’s, “What DON’T You Want From The Election?  JOIN US,” I would tell them a thing or two: 

·         We women are busy, dammit.  But don’t think for a moment that means we aren’t paying attention.

·         You MAY NOT take away our right to choose, because doing so would be the antithesis of religious freedom: it's forcing religious beliefs unilaterally down the throats of every American.

·         The term is pro-choice.  No one is pro-abortion.  That sounds like we're all for handing them out willy-nilly, using them as birth control, and doing something less than painstakingly deliberating such a monumental decision.  Finding ourselves in a position that requires such a choice is not in the least frivolous, and babies deserve (and require) so much more than to merely exist.

·         Birth control isn’t perfect.  If my college age daughter found she had to suddenly choose between a lifelong dream of a softball scholarship or unexpectedly being a mother, I would want her to be able to decide her own future, not Rush Limbaugh.

·         And speaking of birth control, if a doctor who prescribes contraceptives is in my insurance plan, then it’s none of my employer’s business what kind of drug he or she prescribes.  That’s between me and my doctor.  In the absence of an equivalent form of male birth control, singling out contraceptives as not being covered singles out women, and that’s discriminatory.  Contraceptives should be no different than anti-depressants, Lipitor or any other drug.

·         Wake up and smell the fuel oil:  “Burn Baby Burn,” does not an effective campaign slogan make.  It pisses off those of us who care about the legacy we leave behind for our children on this earth.  And why would anyone so vehemently fight a future that provides jobs that take better care of our planet.  Don’t ignore us, don’t patronize us and don’t make fun of things that are important to us; it makes us angry.  And you won’t like us when we’re angry.

If The Pen is [indeed] Mightier Than the Sword, why is it that those of us in the Enlightened Middle Majority seem to use the pen (or our keyboards) and the facts and reasonable discussion in an attempt to be heard and to understand, while extremists bomb abortion clinics?

OK, that’s an admittedly extreme statement. 

But that's all any of us really want, and it’s the very foundation on which this country was built.  We still don't want anyone to tell us whom we must worship, where we must worship, or that we have to worship at all, nor do we wish to stop anyone who wants to do so.  Freedom of religion must also mean freedom from religion, and religious doctrines simply cannot enter into a political discussion of our rights as Americans.  I believe in God.   But I don't want anyone to tell me that I have to.

What I want is for our veterans who have been withdrawn from the battle fields where they've been fighting for this country to come home to good jobs and be able to feed their families.  Many of the same skills they have been using to rebuild the infrastructure that was destroyed in Iraq and Afghanistan could be employed on a high speed train system in the US.  JOBS.  I want people who have for generations now been on welfare, to be taught and rewarded for seeking and maintaining jobs instead of the dole.  There is no reward system in place to inspire people to want more, there is only suppression and perpetuation of poverty.  I know this, because I was a single mom who wanted just a small amount each month to help supplement my income.  I was denied because I had a job, but I didn't make enough to support my daughter and myself.  I want children who are born into poverty in this country to have enough truly healthy food to eat, to be warm, to be loved and to have the same opportunities to be educated that my children enjoy.  I want teachers (most of whom are women) to be paid what they deserve to be paid for building the very foundation of the future of our country in an environment that, because people are afraid and unemployed and angry and those feelings trickle down to their children, only becomes more and more hostile.  

We can no longer afford to be silent.  Those of us, who have never before considered ourselves activists, have no choice but to stand up and be heard, and we must be counted.  We must tell the politicians of this election cycle and all those to come, that we are paying attention, and that we will not be ignored.  That they may no longer take comfort in their "republican-ness" or in their "democrat-ness", but that they must pay attention to those of us in the Enlightened Middle Majority, stop being so divisive and find a way to promulgate change that really matters.  

I still don’t know what that makes me, but I know this:  Extremism will get no one elected.  Listening and debating RESPECTFULLY, tolerance, being open to compromise and ideology that sees beyond black and white, those are qualities of the candidate who will get my vote, and the votes of many who count themselves in the Enlightened Middle Majority.