Category Archives: Point of view

Finally I Am Not Alone in Opposing Prop 50

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Yesterday’s Los Angeles Times has an article on the front page by Ana Ceballos (reporting from Washington) and Seema Mehta (reporting from Los Angeles) about how passing California’s Proposition 50 might not help change house control. I read the entire article, as usual, hoping against hope to find something about how wrong it is for us to be trying to rig our elections against Republicans through the 2030 election cycle.

Today I finally found something. (I should note I haven’t done any actual research, have only kept my eyes open whenever I read something about these gerrymandering efforts nationwide, hoping to read that someone else is disturbed about this, too). The last four paragraphs of the article give us the opinion of Erik Nisbet, the director of the Center for Communications & Public Policy at Northwestern University who believes the fact that this “redistricting trend is gaining traction is part of a broader problem.”

“It is a symptom,” Nisbet says, “of this 20-year trend in increasing polarization and political tribalism.” He argues that “both parties are sacrificing democratic norms and the ideas of procedural fairness as well as a representative democracy for political gain.”

This is stated more clearly and succinctly than my arguments in my earlier post for Governor Newsom and California Democrats voting in tomorrow’s election. But his message is the same as mine—this is just so wrong.

“I am worried,” Nisbet says, “about what the end result” of these efforts to rig our elections will be. People on both sides of the aisle should be worried, too. Frankly, it terrifies me.

Dear Governor Newsom, or Why Californians Need to Vote No on 50

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Please vote no on 50. It only divides us. It’s just wrong.

Dear Governor Newsom,

I am 67 years old and have been on the left-leaning, progressive side of the political spectrum since before I could vote, and I suspect what I need to say is going to be wildly unpopular with the left. Yet here I am, asking you to reverse course and throw your weight against Proposition 50 instead, because it’s just wrong.

Can you please tell the voters of California that you made a mistake? That you changed your mind, came to your senses? That you understandably reacted passionately to the insidiousness of President Trump’s urging other states to gerrymander their districts to get him more votes, and in hindsight can see that you took the low road and want to regain the high road now instead?

California is one of the states that did the right thing some years ago, creating an independent commission to redraw our voting districts with each new census in order to make elections fair. Even though this proposition is “temporary,” these rigged districts, designed to help more Democrats win, would run through our 2030 election cycle. How can we possibly justify this? How would we feel if the tables were turned?

And this leads me to the heart of why I believe this is morally wrong. Doing this harms California Republicans. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to the Republican candidates running for office (especially those who are running for reelection in districts that will have been redrawn to help the Democratic candidates). Democrats hold a solid majority in this state, so in my mind, “rigging” the system to harm our Republican voters and candidates is completely unjust. And if it isn’t illegal and unconstitutional, it should be. Clearly we’re in a time in the United States where doing the illegal and the unconstitutional in government is happening everywhere we turn, and it scares the hell out of me. But that doesn’t make retaliating in this way right. We need to be moving away from the “us versus them” mentality, not exacerbating it.

Believe me, I want to put the brakes on, too. In my gut, I want to fight fire with fire. But the truth is, that never works. We have to find ways to stop President Trump’s disturbing maneuvers in ways that don’t have us committing the same sins, sins that can bring our democracy crashing down. It’s a terrible precedent. How low will we go? And can we even be certain our own rigged districts will elect more Democrats? I would not be surprised if all these machinations backfire. Can we not instead keep trying to find lawful, nonviolent and more creative ways to stop what’s happening?

I would have loved to see the money we’re spending on this special election to have gone instead to reinstate some of the existing services we recently denied our California residents who need them most (Republicans and Democrats alike), though I realize it’s too late now. Still, I would have such great respect for you if you were to reconsider this extreme and mean-spirited move and urge us now instead to vote no on Proposition 50. And then pull together the greatest minds and hearts you can gather from all across the political spectrum—the best strategic thinkers and those with the most integrity and the biggest hearts—and help us find fair, ingenious, ethical and effective ways to stop our president’s agenda.

Thanks very much for your time.

Riba

Pulling a 180 (60)

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My horoscope says, “You’ll become more conscious of your triggers and start to develop plans to avoid unwanted states.” First I want to laugh, sarcastic and scoffing. Yeah, right. Then it creeps up on me, this matter-of-factness I am making fun of. And all of a sudden, it opens up for me in a different way. I believe it can be as simple as this, and I have made a zillion “plans.” But these words are assuming my success is taken for granted. And I want that. I grab it in a loose fist. Here’s to avoiding unwanted states, in all their awful glory.

Spontaneous Combustion? (43)

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“For God’s sake,” Biden says
“this man cannot remain in power.”
I don’t have all the details
(unwise, maybe, for a president)
but it makes me like him more.

In Solidarity (40)

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These bands of blue and yellow
must be Ukraine’s flag, I think
when I see them
in the Lalo Alcaraz strip today
How do we sit
inside ourselves
with this?
(How do we fit inside our skin?)

Hiding (28)

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She crumpled up the paper and tossed it over her shoulder. She refused to look behind her, certain the sight of the heap of wadded up paper would make her want to crawl under the straw to hide like she and Devin used to do up in the hayloft of the big old barn when they were kids at their grandparents farm. She didn’t even turn around when she heard a small crash. The Buddha statue, she figured, the small pink one made of resin, the one where he’s the jolly traveler, knapsack on his hobo stick. At least, she thought, that one wouldn’t break. But she aimed the subsequent balls of paper lower and put a little less punch behind them. The truth was, she didn’t know why she was doing this. Why was she putting so much pressure on herself? Since when did she tear pages out of her notebook, begin again and again, rejecting her work like this? What was wrong with her? She heard the sound of a car on gravel, and her pen froze. Henry couldn’t be home already. Could he? In spite of herself, she got up and walked to the window. Who the hell was here, and what was she going to do with her big pile of evidence? She saw the orange Fiat in the driveway. Fuck. Worse than Henry interrupting her. It was Marge. No way was she letting Marge in. She ducked when she saw her getting out of the car. Ducking, squatting there beneath the windowsill, made her feel insane. She giggled. I’ll just crawl away, right? More hysterical laughing. She backed up, inched her way over to the other wall, hands and knees wading through the mountain of crumpled paper. How was she ever going to be able to explain this?

[Editor’s note: written from a prompt from Creative Writing Prompts.]

Hank—or Father, Husband (27)

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Hank shook his head and muttered under his breath. Then he shook his head again. He wished Sally was here. She’d know what to do, what to say to his leftie child, this daughter of theirs. Her daughter maybe more than his, but he loved her like there was no tomorrow. He just couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her sometimes. This living with them again wasn’t something he saw coming, but here she was, rearranging the kitchen cupboards, hiding his ashtray. Hell, yesterday he even found a full box of his Frosted Flakes in the outside garbage can. What was she thinking? And now she was on to his politics, chastising him for not trying harder, for not being willing to camp out with her in protest at the community center. He was too damn old to sleep on pavement in the middle of December. And she was too damn old to be living with her parents. When was Sally going to get back, anyway? How long could it take to get her toenails done, for Christ’s sake? Since when did she even have her toenails done? He muttered again, opening the can of dolphin-safe tuna Alexa had bought for the cat. It was probably her idea, the toe painting deal. His wife had been perfectly content with doing her own toenails all these decades, and now when she should have been here helping him deal with her damn daughter, she was off getting her toenails doo-dawed instead.

[Editor’s note: written from a prompt from Creative Writing Prompts.]