Boston Herald (with Martha Fields)
Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco. Civil rights history comes alive with the mere mention of their names. It seems that "S" words consistently mark the spot when it comes to civil-rights history in this country.
Recent Supreme Court decisions on affirmative action and gay rights have, once again, thrust civil-rights issues back onto the American agenda. That was certainly the case in 1965, when the March on Selma forced the nation to confront an appalling lack of civil rights for its African-American citizens. Four years later, the 1969 riots at the Stonewall Bar in Manhattan catalyzed the civil-rights movement for gays and lesbians. In 1977, the occupation of a government building in San Francisco finally compelled political officials to get serious about the rights of people with disabilities. In each case, progress took gut-wrenching, lapel-grabbing media moments to focus attention, demand results and force change.
Imagine, then, what it was like 155 years ago this week in Seneca Falls, New York? The groundbreaking 1848 Woman's Rights Convention held there marked the emergence of women as a political force. In a year when abolitionists were heartened by the end to slavery on several Caribbean islands, social reformers like Lucretia Mott and Elizabeth Cady Stanton insisted that women should start asserting their rights, too. They had asked a handful of friends to join them in Seneca Falls on July 19th to organize a new political movement. Instead, some 300 women, dubbed by the local newspaper as "a bunch of unhappy spinsters," heard their call, descended upon the tiny New York hamlet, and forever changed the course of women's rights in this country.
So what do Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco tell us about the state of civil rights in America today? For one thing, we should recognize and celebrate the fact that great progress has been made. At the same time, however, we must accept the painful truth that we have an equally great distance to travel before overcoming the fear of change and the fear of difference that continue to divide us. Sure, we should find purpose and inspiration by the courage and leadership demonstrated at Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco, but we need to be realistic in acknowledging that the road to justice is never fast enough, never straightforward and predictable, and never without its opposition and reversals.
However, something very important happened during the recent Supreme Court deliberations on affirmative action and gay rights. A new-found maturity was evident that rose above the din of fear and hatred and powerfully underscored that we are slowly but inexorably evolving as a society. In the University of Michigan case, affirmative-action advocates were joined by hundreds of organizations supporting the school's admissions policies, including dozens of Fortune 500 corporations that have grown to understand the powerful and necessary role diversity plays in their own competitiveness. Gay-rights advocates also enjoyed increasing support from business, political and religious groups who were simply nowhere to be found when Stonewall erupted in 1977.
That's just the point! It's obviously important to celebrate Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco as hard-earned civil-rights milestones, just as we recognize Black History Month in February, Women's History Month in March and so on. Each of these occasions holds special symbolic and substantive appeal. However, we'll never realize the full promise civil rights as a nation until we stop narrowly interpreting these events and occasions as victories only for one disenfranchised group or another.
Isn't it time to start viewing Seneca Falls and the others as sacred ground for us all, not just for some of us? Isn't it time to celebrate the contributions of women, African-Americans and all diverse peoples every day, not just during designated and increasingly commercialized periods? Isn't it time to reject fear-based, zero-sum logic that suggests programs like affirmative action benefit one group at the expense of another? Interestingly, the Michigan affirmative-action case was fought on racial grounds, yet the history of affirmative action shows that women have benefited most from the policy.
So, what's the best way this week to celebrate the 155th anniversary of the 1848 Woman's Rights Convention? Let's start by recognizing that women who are the beneficiaries of the progress initiated in Seneca Falls are also African-American, Latina, lesbian or people with disabilities, as they are the mothers, daughters, sisters, friends or colleagues of diverse men and women of every kind. Let's accept that the march toward freedom and justice for each diverse group is actually a march toward freedom and justice for everyone. By doing so, only then will we embrace the true lesson of Selma, Seneca, Stonewall and San Francisco - that "S" marks the spot for us all.
Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco. Civil rights history comes alive with the mere mention of their names. It seems that "S" words consistently mark the spot when it comes to civil-rights history in this country.
Recent Supreme Court decisions on affirmative action and gay rights have, once again, thrust civil-rights issues back onto the American agenda. That was certainly the case in 1965, when the March on Selma forced the nation to confront an appalling lack of civil rights for its African-American citizens. Four years later, the 1969 riots at the Stonewall Bar in Manhattan catalyzed the civil-rights movement for gays and lesbians. In 1977, the occupation of a government building in San Francisco finally compelled political officials to get serious about the rights of people with disabilities. In each case, progress took gut-wrenching, lapel-grabbing media moments to focus attention, demand results and force change.
Imagine, then, what it was like 155 years ago this week in Seneca Falls, New York? The groundbreaking 1848 Woman's Rights Convention held there marked the emergence of women as a political force. In a year when abolitionists were heartened by the end to slavery on several Caribbean islands, social reformers like Lucretia Mott and Elizabeth Cady Stanton insisted that women should start asserting their rights, too. They had asked a handful of friends to join them in Seneca Falls on July 19th to organize a new political movement. Instead, some 300 women, dubbed by the local newspaper as "a bunch of unhappy spinsters," heard their call, descended upon the tiny New York hamlet, and forever changed the course of women's rights in this country.
So what do Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco tell us about the state of civil rights in America today? For one thing, we should recognize and celebrate the fact that great progress has been made. At the same time, however, we must accept the painful truth that we have an equally great distance to travel before overcoming the fear of change and the fear of difference that continue to divide us. Sure, we should find purpose and inspiration by the courage and leadership demonstrated at Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco, but we need to be realistic in acknowledging that the road to justice is never fast enough, never straightforward and predictable, and never without its opposition and reversals.
However, something very important happened during the recent Supreme Court deliberations on affirmative action and gay rights. A new-found maturity was evident that rose above the din of fear and hatred and powerfully underscored that we are slowly but inexorably evolving as a society. In the University of Michigan case, affirmative-action advocates were joined by hundreds of organizations supporting the school's admissions policies, including dozens of Fortune 500 corporations that have grown to understand the powerful and necessary role diversity plays in their own competitiveness. Gay-rights advocates also enjoyed increasing support from business, political and religious groups who were simply nowhere to be found when Stonewall erupted in 1977.
That's just the point! It's obviously important to celebrate Seneca, Selma, Stonewall and San Francisco as hard-earned civil-rights milestones, just as we recognize Black History Month in February, Women's History Month in March and so on. Each of these occasions holds special symbolic and substantive appeal. However, we'll never realize the full promise civil rights as a nation until we stop narrowly interpreting these events and occasions as victories only for one disenfranchised group or another.
Isn't it time to start viewing Seneca Falls and the others as sacred ground for us all, not just for some of us? Isn't it time to celebrate the contributions of women, African-Americans and all diverse peoples every day, not just during designated and increasingly commercialized periods? Isn't it time to reject fear-based, zero-sum logic that suggests programs like affirmative action benefit one group at the expense of another? Interestingly, the Michigan affirmative-action case was fought on racial grounds, yet the history of affirmative action shows that women have benefited most from the policy.
So, what's the best way this week to celebrate the 155th anniversary of the 1848 Woman's Rights Convention? Let's start by recognizing that women who are the beneficiaries of the progress initiated in Seneca Falls are also African-American, Latina, lesbian or people with disabilities, as they are the mothers, daughters, sisters, friends or colleagues of diverse men and women of every kind. Let's accept that the march toward freedom and justice for each diverse group is actually a march toward freedom and justice for everyone. By doing so, only then will we embrace the true lesson of Selma, Seneca, Stonewall and San Francisco - that "S" marks the spot for us all.