No Rest

In Memory of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg

I was sitting in the restaurant I used to work at in Boston—mask tentatively on and off as I sipped my first draft beer since March 17th—when my table companion looked up at the TV and said “RBG died.” I said “No,” loud enough to receive stares and the woman getting her take out turned to him and said he had ruined her night. I thought it must be a hoax. Please, let it be a hoax! I read the screen (captions on) over and over. I put my mask back on to try to cover some pain while I texted my sister and grabbed the bill. The women sitting at the next table over noticed and then said, “I can’t look at that right now. I just need some happy news.” When I looked up again, the bartender had changed the channel to football.

I left immediately.

Hiding my very justified feelings of pain and anger over losing someone like Justice Ginsburg may not have been necessary, but I know the balance of clientele is off to the right a bit and its owner probably wouldn’t have told the bartender to turn back to the news. This is part of why I left. The closing of the restaurant at during the beginning of the pandemic gave me an opportunity to remember that I am not just a waitress. I am a writer. My writing is my voice—online, in essays, in fiction—and I am here to use it to the best of my ability. None of us can afford to waste our voices in the best of times; the best of times only come after our voices have been heard and bring change in the worst of times.

Bringing things back to education for a moment, Justice Ginsburg said there were two main things that gave her the tools to fight for equality:

First, a mother who, by her example, made reading a delight and counseled me constantly to “be independent,” able to fend for myself, whatever fortune might have in store for me. Second, teachers who influenced or encouraged me in my growing-up years. At Cornell University, my professor of European literature, Vladimir Nabokov, changed the way I read and the way I write. Words could paint pictures, I learned from him. Choosing the right word, and the right word order, he illustrated, could make an enormous difference in conveying an image or an idea (“Advice for Living,” The New York Times, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, 2016/10/02).

Some mentors are our leaders; some mentors make us leaders.

Parents are mentors. Teachers are mentors. Authors—even those you’ve never met—are mentors. They can help us act, but they can also give us a sense of protection: protection from having to act without them. In reality, we are not protected. Our country and our rights are at risk; our democracy is more vulnerable than it has been in decades.

On The Late Show Monday night, Stephen Colbert and John Baptiste discussed what a national mentor like RBG’s absence means for us. Baptiste said, “She’s passing us the baton and now, more than ever, her life’s work is important… It’s such a void that we have no choice; at our own peril…we have to step up or everything is lost.” We may say #RIPRBG but I think she would say, “Do not rest! Do not let my absence allow justice to rest!” May she rest in peace knowing her legacy is that we will not rest, that she inspired so many voices to carry on the fight for progress and justice for all. We have lost one of our leaders, a protector, a mentor, but we have lost our voices.

May nerd-dom abound!