Late last night, I was giving my brain some needed recess, watching a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show. You know the one where Miss Ellie runs for city council? Lord have mercy, how the men of Mayberry went berzerk...
Miss Ellie's "silly" female candidacy made me think about my recent discussions of Persepolis that illustrated the loss of women's rights during the Iranian Revolution. The women of Mayberry contrasted with the women of Tehran. An interesting comparison.
This morning, I listened to a group of friends talk about their desire to see Jacksonville, Florida, from where I write this epistle, evolve into a place where women can gain leadership equality in the areanas of business, government, health, etc. What a nice idea in 2016. One that evokes Miss Ellie stumping on the courthouse steps.
Rewind to a month prior, before the election rejection of Hillary Clinton.
Same friends. Same topic. One individual states that they described themselves as an "at-risk" Jacksonville resident. I'm a word lover, thus, I needed to understand this adjective. Explained, the "at-risk" Jacksonville resident is one who hails from a place, just imagine this, a place where all individuals are treated equally, church and state feel comfortably confident in remaining separate and the creative, entrepreneurial and innovative oeuvre are encouraged. Presently renting, the individual didn't know if Jacksonville would be a good fit to establish a life and business that is global, thriving and fabulously lucrative because their rosy description of a positive environment is certainly not the familiar cozy Cowford I know.
"At-risk" resident was added to my creative coinage lexicon. It truly described the apprehension of many successful, intelligent people I knew who felt that Jacksonville basically suffered from a chronic case of cultural cooties.
Just when you think a new word takes on meaning, the whole context changes.
Fast forward to this morning, I overheard someone comment that they were suffering from Trumpression. Trumpression? I am sharing this lovely gem of a word, with permission of the trumpressed individual, because it explains accurately the ambient malaise that has descended upon our country. This polluted cloud of toxic, debilitating depression, embarrassment and shame, a result of our recent electoral implosion.
A month ago, "at-risk" became a new vocabulary word to described our city's stifling environment. Now, with election trumpression, a deeper meaning of "at-risk" is defined.
As of Nov. 9, 2016, we are now faced with trumpressed "at-risk" United States citizens, those who: chose to emigrate because of deep moral mortification, are in fear of family separation and are revulsed by the elevation of Nazism and white supremacy as philosophical ideals.
Miss Ellie, spoiler alert, won her election battle in the made-up Mayberry of the Jim Crow South. That show premiered in October 1960.
Today, the reality is that the majority of women elected a man who objectifies women, whose rights are now considered nothing more than nitty gritty details of policy.
I'd like to take Aunt Bea's peach cobbler and hurl it.