I don’t think I could ever forget the evening of Justice Ginsburg’s passing.
Like many Americans on a Friday night, we were eating pizza and watching Jeopardy in the living room. Just as Alex Trebek began to spin the wheel for Final Jeopardy, the show cut off and ‘Breaking News’ flashed across the screen.
A Breaking News alert in the middle of Final Jeopardy can’t be good. It felt like hours passed as we anticipated what catastrophe could possibly be next during these already unprecedented times.
My mom screamed, “Oh no, we’re doomed!”
I was in shock as the headline ‘Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg Dies at 87’ ran across the screen.
My credit card dropped out of my hand and fell onto the floor (yes, I may have also been doing some online shopping). I felt so many emotions — sad, scared, angry, nervous, disappointed. Isn’t it weird to say you’re disappointed when someone dies? Almost immediately, the mourning of a devastating loss was overshadowed by a political crisis.
I keep thinking about the fact that I opened my first credit card when I was 20 years old. Was it necessary for me to have one at the time? No. But regardless, it was a decision I was able to make on my own — when I wanted, and how I wanted.
My late grandmother, who passed earlier this year, never owned a credit card. Not because she didn’t want to, because she couldn’t. It wasn’t until the passing of the Equal Credit Opportunity Act of 1974 (thank you, RBG) that women were granted the legal right to apply for credit cards without needing their husbands to co-sign.
I once was intrigued by politics. As a child, I spent my summers with the Congressional Youth Leadership Council in Washington, D.C., was president of the 5th grade Student Council, member of the Student Leadership Board in middle school and Class President in high school. I’ve shaken hands with Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, Al Gore, and attended President Barack Obama’s inauguration in 2009. Everyone (including myself) thought that one day I would run for President of the United States. I loved keeping-up with the 2009 election, not just because of the potential for the United States to have its first Black President, but because I was interested in the policies, debates and hearing what both sides had to offer.
If you were to talk to me about the current administration and election, you would probably think I didn’t know anything about politics. Because, honestly, I don’t like to talk about it anymore. It’s draining, frustrating, and it always gets messy.
I didn’t care much for the 2016 Presidential election. Like Justice Ginsburg — I thought it was a joke and, whether America liked Hillary Clinton or not, to me she was the only clear option.
When you look at this Wikipedia chart of the 45 Presidents of the United States, at least two of the four previous occupations for each President involved public or military service. Only one President had neither public nor military service experience before becoming President — Donald Trump. Instead, his profile reads: Businessman, Real Estate Developer, Reality Television Personality. There are minimum-wage, entry-level retail jobs that I couldn’t even apply to because I didn’t have 3+ years of retail experience, yet Donald Trump could run for President just because he has the money to be able to run a campaign. It was from that point on that I really stopped caring to discuss politics because it all felt like a joke.
I’ve always admired Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but her death has been a personal awakening. As I got older and politics began to grow louder, I’ve gotten quieter about it. In fact, this is the first political piece I’ve written in 10 years. Justice Ginsburg’s passing has reminded me that just because the world is loud and has a bad-mouth at times, doesn’t mean that you have to be equally as loud and bad-mouthed about it. Ruth Bader Ginbsurg was a quiet force — a 5-foot-tall giant who spoke loudly to what she believed in without raising her voice. And while the majority of America mourns over the fact that her death couldn’t have come at a worse time in American history, something tells me Justice Ginsburg wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She couldn’t be the very best of us forever — it’s time for us to be the voice of America. Despite the obstacles thrown her way, Ruth Bader Ginsburg never gave up fighting for the promise of what America can and should be. I haven’t experienced even half of the world the way she has, and I gave up the fight as soon as it got ‘too messy.’
In a 2015 interview, RBG said that her wish was to be remembered as “someone who used whatever talent she had to do her work to the very best of her ability. And to help repair tears in her society, to make things a little better through the use of whatever ability she has.” Ruth Bader Ginsburg embodies so many of the qualities I strive to be — personally and professionally. As a young black woman navigating adulthood during #MeToo, #TimesUp, #BlackLivesMatter, the Trump Administration, and one of the most highly anticipated presidential elections, RBG’s passing is a wake-up call — a call to use my voice. A call to not give up the battle one single woman dedicated her life to that in return gave my life so much that I have to be thankful for. So much that she did not have at my age. Ruth Bader Ginsburg paved the way for women’s rights and gender equality. As an attorney and Supreme Court Justice, she fought with style and grace in a male-dominated court.
I am nervous, I am angry, I am upset. I am scared about how important one single night — November 3 — is to the next four years and beyond of my life. But now is not the time to shut off our voices just because the ones we don’t agree with feel louder, meaner, and angrier. It’s time to find our inner Notorious RBG energy. Thank you for all that you have done so far, RBG. The fight is not over — and you will never be forgotten.