Girls To The Front

If you like Bernie, vote for Warren.

(I’m talking to you, California.)

“Not only do we live in a totally fucked-up patriarchal society run by white men who don’t represent our interests at all, but we are in a country where those people don’t care if we live or die. And that’s pretty scary.”- Bikini Kill drummer Tobi Vail

Remember that riot grrrl moment in the 90s — the feminist offshoot of punk rock — when bands like Bikini Kill, L7, Bratmobile, Babes in Toyland made music that made room for girls (aka women/females/female-identifying humans). A response to the boy-dominated world of punk and music and, frankly, all of culture and all of history, the ambitious dissent-driven female-centric art form sought to urgently upend a basic fact: male-dominated life makes it hard to see.

One of the significant rallying cries of this moment — especially for females measuring under 5 foot 7 — was Kathleen Hanna’s on-stage command: “Girls to the front!”

The import of this request — this demand — couldn’t be more timely. More NOW.

In the context of the cramped sweaty rock show, “girls to the front” meant that female fans might have a chance to actually see the show, rather than stare at the backs of humans of the 6-foot tall variety. “Girls to the front” meant that 51% of the population could fully participate in the experience they too had paid to see. Fairness.

It started with Bikini Kill and spread. “Girls to the front!” There’s a literalness to this rallying cry. “Girls to the front” means not only, let us see, but also asks males to recognize their dominance, to make the small, polite, humane accommodation of allowing the shorter humans to the front to see the show, allowing physically smaller humans to the front to be surrounded by other physically smaller humans so as not to be violently moshed by physically larger humans.

Girls to the front.

It’s not that girls are not as good — or better — it’s just that we tend to be a little bit shorter. And you’re blocking the show.

When I hear “Is she electable?” I say “Girls to the front.” She’s electable — if you elect her.

You might say it’s unfair. The tall ones got to the show first, survival of the fittest, we live in Donald Trump’s Darwinian America. But sometimes equality just feels unfair.

Girls to the front.

In 2008, I was all in for Obama from the start. I didn’t sympathize with my aunt’s generation who wanted a female president at all costs. At the cost of the chance to elect a transformative president, the first African-American president, the charismatic guy with a “funny name.” I made calls for Obama from my apartment in San Diego. I talked with a family in Compton who told me they were scared he would get assassinated if nominated and elected. I talked with students in Virginia who were afraid he’d lose because of closeted racism. We were scared — and we won.

It wasn’t easy — people in power had to step aside, let others step forward, take a chance on decentering old narratives, questioning received assumptions.

Girls to the front.

In 2016, I was Berning, hard. I didn’t see how people could want to nominate a corporate Democrat, even if she was a female — she was also an ex-president’s wife (not exactly bootstraps), a candidate with baggage and a history of compromises who would surely be impeached on day one by the enraged opposition party. I’m from the 90s, sure, but I didn’t see the need to relive the 90s. Bernie had the people, the values, the issues, the youth. Bernie had Wisconsin and Michigan and West Virginia. Twenty-three states in all, and yes, the Democratic establishment worked hard to stop him.

In 2016, “girls to the front” would have meant, let the people vote, let the primary process play out.

The DNC was biased, and we nominated a woman in 2016 — a “safe” woman, an “establishment” woman — and she almost won. By many measures, she did win — she won the popular vote by millions, and but for about 70,000 votes in 3 states, the electoral college would have been hers. The violence of watching Trump become inaugurated president of this country sent women and allies into the streets in record numbers to protest. My friends told me about their teenage daughters’ heartbreak at Hillary’s loss; my female college students wept openly in class.

But we are at a different tipping point now than we were in 2008 or 2016: The trauma of a pussy-grabber in the White House is real. And the fact is, our national trauma cannot be erased by a 46th male body in the White House.

The current gender rage and disappointment are motivating — and these forces will dominate and carry us in the general election, if we can get there. The challenge is getting a female through the primary. But NOW is the time we need a woman in the White House. Bodies matter.

In the 90s I was a women’s studies major, but I get it differently, now — there is a different urgency now — I’m 45 now — I am a mother now — of a young female child who wants to read books with female protagonists. I want to give her a female protagonist. I want to erase Donald Trump for her.

GTTF

Just like when Bernie opposed Hillary in 2016 — and even when Obama opposed Hillary in 2008 — there is a powerful cocktail of hope and fear, shaken not stirred, working against a female making it out of the primary. Gillebrand faded, Kamala dropped, Tulsi and Marianne linger somewhere backstage. Amy can’t crack 10%. Everyone wonders — can a female get it done? Can she be “electable”? The obvious answer is a tautology: she’s electable if you elect her.

But the scarier answer is less clear, and more powerful: she is NOT electable, EVEN if you elect her. This is the lesson we’ve taken from 2016 and Hillary Clinton. She won, and we lost. They took it anyway — the meddling Russians, the corrupt Trumpers, the white supremacists, the pussy-grabbing-apologists. She didn’t lose, but she conceded, and now we’re stuck with Abusive Daddy.

The thing is, it’s not really true that a woman can’t win even if she wins — but we believe it. Everything unbelievable is believable now.

We believe it because it’s true to our experience. (I’m talking to you, women.)

We know gender solidarity is as thin as spun cotton candy. We know that even if she works harder, faster, backwards and in boots, she doesn’t get the callback, the interview, the job. She’s more qualified, but just not a good “fit.” Somewhere the word “shrill” is uttered.

Amy Klobuchar pointed to it, but no one wants to talk about the sheer insult of a 37-year old small town mayor being viewed as more “electable” than a woman — in Warren’s case, a woman who has spent her more than 37-year career defending families from bankruptcy, putting in place consumer protections that never existed before, and educating 37-year old small town mayors.

GTTF

Women to the back means we believe the “he said” over the “she said.” She’s at the back of the line. Stuck in the back of the club staring at a pile of white guy dreadlocks on 5-foot wide shoulders that seem to move into our eyespace every time we get a thin peerage. We get stuck in the middle of a man-man mosh pit that turns violent as 200-pound male bodies become drunken air missiles.

Gender solidarity is not a given — gender discord is as real as Sonic Youth dissonance. My mother is a servant to my father, and she is horrified that my male partner does our cooking. I have a female colleague who once told me that sometimes we have to suck it up (maybe literally) and give the male boss a wink if we women want to get what we want.

In the South Carolina Democratic Primary Debate, Elizabeth Warren dared to say that she believed a woman who accused Michael Bloomberg of pregnancy discrimination. Chris Matthews of MSNBC later grilled her about it — “Why don’t you believe him [Bloomberg], is he lying?” — and then Matthews seemed confused when Warren replied, “Is she?”

Do we believe her?

Very unfortunately, this is still the question facing us in 2020. Do we believe her? Trump accusers, Bill Clinton accusers, Weinstein accusers, Epstein accusers, R. Kelly accusers, Bloomberg accusers, Christine Blasey Ford — do we believe her?

Pregnancy discrimination is real, gender discrimination is real, rape is real, harassment is real, silencing is real, gaslighting is real, NDAs are real, workplace discrimination is real, the gender pay gap is real, catcalls are real, stalking is real, domestic abuse is real, worldwide lack of female education and opportunity is real. And it’s really hard to see from the back.

When I was born, a woman couldn’t get a credit card or own a house or wear pants to the office. I wasn’t born in the 1950s — I’m talking about the 1970s.

GTTF.

Bodies matter. Putting a female body in the White House matters now more than it did before. Because Donald Trump. It didn’t matter as much before because we hadn’t had Donald Trump before.

If you like Bernie, elect a woman.

I’ll say it — we need a mom-in-chief. We need someone who keeps her calm and can explain the things we don’t want to hear. We need an explainer-in-chief.

Just like females all over the world, Warren is working twice as hard to get the nomination — with her right hand, carrying the water for the progressive causes and explaining them in dulcet centrist-friendly tones with lipstick on, while her left hand knocks the shine off of Bloomberg’s wingtips, singlehandedly ensuring we don’t have a billionaire buying (another) election. While the men on the debate stage just mosh.

Warren explained it tonight — progressives have one chance to beat Donald Trump. Is there anything more satisfying right now than the thought of a woman beating Donald Trump? How do thoughts become reality? Girls to the front.

Do you not think the girls — and all their allies — will rush to the front to get it done? In force? Again?

Bernie’s ideas and values are the wildly and widely popular ones. Elizabeth Warren happens to hold the same ideas and values but gets none of the credit. If we don’t nominate a progressive, we lose the passion of the base.

Bodies matter — and it matters where the bodies are. Presidents are symbols. All the people who voted for a woman last time will vote for a woman again this time — and then some — if we run an inspiring progressive value-solid woman: Elizabeth Warren.

GTTF.

If we don’t nominate a woman this time, get ready for President Trump. And I do mean Ivanka.