About the Coward's Use of Ridicule
Emily Murphy of the GSA. This is the woman in the Trump administration who refuses to do her job. She is using her limited power as personal protest, refusing to make all necessary arrangements for the legal transfer of power during the transition period between the election and January 20, 2021 when the Biden-Harris Administration takes over. No one outside her immediate bubble of Trump True Believers respects Murphy’s protest. No one accepts her stance. In fact, Murphy is acting outside the law and is likely to face prosecution.
But no one should say as little as one word about Murphy’s physique. No one American should tie her actions to her appearance. Shame on us. Accurate accusations, credible remarks, legitimate comments about Murphy’s job-related actions are welcome. She accepted the appointment; Murphy must live with The People’s assessments.
The reason I address this today is that I read several tweets this week that ridicule Murphy for being overweight. What is the ridicule for but to hurt and demean her as a person? The ridicule is not humorous; it does not fulfill a purpose except to hurt; it does not make the one who ridicules look smart or funny or thoughtful. I’ve an example that has haunted me for over forty years.
One of my dear friends in Church of Our Savior in Concordville, Pennsylvania was a beautiful woman, a wife and mother of children the same age as my own. I admired her laughter and kindnesses, her ability to comfort and cheer all of us who as young women struggled every day with poverty and the competition---I don’t think we women understood how much the competition mattered to our male church leaders---to be the best wife and best mother, to catch Fred Drummond’s eye and win his wife’s friendship. She and I privately decided to give up and remain committed to our own friendships, to Jesus, and to our families.
She was tall and obviously overweight. Much taller and bigger than her husband. Always battling weight gain even though her husband repeatedly and with genuine love and honesty told her that she is beautiful. But women often are harder on themselves than they should be, eschewing reason and common sense and even science. Not only were several of her friends like me tall and underweight---it was the 1970s and quite the style---but we in Church of Our Savior (formerly Fundamentalist Baptist) were regularly indoctrinated that wives are sexual and nurturing persons (therefore unable to reason) who must be subservient to their husbands. Our ladies’ Bible groups echoed the messages. Our husbands often reprimanded us if we stepped across any arbitrary lines. Fred Drummond’s wife and his sister-in-law, Hillary, reinforced the messages in multiple ways. The need among women to be accepted and appreciated was as palpable as the steady increase in negative reinforcement from church leaders.
I remember one occasion with heartache and tears. We were in Sunday morning or evening worship service. The choir sat down after delivering celebratory music that always enchanted me. I did not sing in the choir. My brother did. The friend of which this blog is about did also. She was marvelous. The choir remained at the front facing the congregation, mainly because there was no room left among the seats but, also because Fred Drummond, the lead pastor, liked to stage drama.
He started the sermon. Later and inside some point that Drummond hoped to drive home via our emotional attachment to it, he called out my friend, the dearest woman among us because of her generosity and unique kindness, and he from a shepherd's and minister’s pulpit made an entire room of people laugh about her weight and size. I do not remember the words. I remember the laughter. I remember watching her laugh from the back row of the choir, watching her laugh until she cried, watching her lovely alabaster, freckled complexion blush until it hurt me. I choked out loud. I could hardly breathe. My friend sat there, obedient as the rest of us, giving Drummond what he wanted, the recognition that he could say or do anything and still have power over people.
I left that church in 1982, within a couple years of this shameful moment. What Fred Drummond did to my friend, to all of us in that service, scarred me for life. What it did to my friend I have no idea now. I wish that I knew her again. I love her from a time and distance that feels too far but also like it was just this Sunday morning.
Fred Drummond made a fateful mistake that one time. He planted another seed in my garden where inquiry, questions, bafflement, frustrations, and dissent were growing. There are countless times in Donald J Trump’s life that should have been fateful mistakes. Only one of which should have been the way he treats women, especially women of color, especially women who are intelligent and stand up to men like him. But Fred Drummond and Donald J Trump share one trait that often bolsters their respective cult leadership. That is the need, the almost irresistible urge, a mastered deplorable skill to ridicule women.
Both are the Dear Leaders of Cults. Both men are as vile as the women who enable them.
Murphy of the GSA will face consequences for her illegal actions after this. She will be ridiculed for her Cult Mindset, a willingness to demean herself and commit to corruption for her Dear Leader’s sake.
Let us not demean Murphy of the GSA for anything else. If we do, we normalize and trivialize her actions.