I was thinking today-- as I have often been since the protest started-- about Cindy Sheehan and the anti-war movement that has mobilized behind her. I was thinking about the way she's been questioned, criticized, insulted, slandered, and attacked, and how calmly resolute she remains in the face of it all. And I was thinking about why I felt so personally moved by her actions, her presence.
As Cindy's critics got more personal, one attack that started rearing its foul head was that she is a bad mother. She's being painted as some sort of ghoulish Mama Rose, hooking the corpse of Baby Casey on strings to make it dance to "Let Me Entertain You" for the benefit of her own self-interest and ego.
That's when it hit me, why this was affecting me on much more than just an intellectual level. Cindy Sheehan reminds me of my own mom.
This protest reminds me of my third grade experience in Catholic school, when my mother found out that our teacher was actively tormenting the children in her care, and encouraging her favorites to lead little hate campaigns against other kids, me for example. Mom went on a rampage. She met with the principal of the school, who was inclined to do approximately nothing about it. But rather than just go away, my mom rounded up at least one other mother of one of the teacher's victims, went back and demanded a meeting with both the teacher and the principal, and had our classroom emptied into the other third grade class for a good couple of hours while the moms gave my teacher and the principal what-for and refused to leave or back down until they were satisfied.
I can think of a few other times when my mom took on a school bureaucracy on my behalf, to deal with bullies or get me into the track of classes I needed. My dad similarly looked out for me, never hesitating to come to my defense when I needed it. Now, as an adult, I have many friends who have kids and I see the same protectiveness from them. I see moms I know with special needs kids who are constantly fighting an uphill battle with the powers that be to make sure their kids get a fair chance, a safe environment, understanding.
I see my mom's face in Cindy Sheehan. But more to the point, I see in her the face of every mom, every parent, who has ever loved their child and therefore stood up for them. Cindy Sheehan isn't a bad mom, not in the slightest. She IS Mom. She is the maternal fearlessness and fortitude that moves mountains and rattles the plastic talking heads with the boundless power of her conviction.
It doesn't matter whether Casey Sheehan would have wanted her to do this. Most of us who've had a parent go to bat for us at some point in our lives were at least a little embarrassed about it. I remember sitting on the floor in the other third grade classroom feeling anxious, wondering what was being said, knowing my mom was yelling, wishing I wasn't the cause of trouble. But at the same time, I felt relieved and I felt loved. Because my parents always treated me like I was worth defending, I grew up believing that I was worth it as well. I learned that defending people you cared about was the right thing to do, especially when they couldn't handle it all themselves. And even though I have had major differences with my parents as I grew up, I never doubted that they would rush to my defense again if I needed it, and vice versa.
Casey Sheehan might have told his mother she shouldn't make such a fuss over him. He might have had a different idea about how to deal with the war when he came back, if he had. He might have been uncomfortable with being singled out, with becoming a symbol, with being the catalyst for trouble and anger. He might have simply worried that his mother shouldn't endanger herself physically to prove a point. He might have done, but he can't now, so we'll never know and we certainly can't presume to know better than Cindy Sheehan. But I'll bet you that whether or not he agreed with the exact choices she has made, he would have understood why she made them. A mom like that doesn't just suddenly start being a crusader; a mom like that is like that from the time her first child comes. And a kid with a mom like that never has cause to doubt that someone loves him, that someone is always looking out for him.
Cindy Sheehan is taking on an enormously bigger fight than a meeting with a dismissive principal, but the principle is the same: Don't you dare treat my child like he doesn't matter. Don't you dare act like you have no accountability to us. Don't you dare tell me to shut up and go away when I'm standing up for my child.
She's there in Texas on behalf of every grieving parent that George Bush shuffled through his office for five minutes. She's there to tell him that he doesn't get to wash his hands of them and think he did his job because he gave them a couple of minutes on his terms and his timetable. She's there to demand that he come talk to her on her terms, on the turf she's staked out, that he have the conversation that SHE wants this time, and that he look her in the eyes-- look all those parents there with her in the eyes-- and answer the question of the protective parent: What are you going to do about this?
And she's doing it not just for her own son, since it is too late to change his fate. She's doing it for any of us who could be sent to fight an unjust war founded in lies, and for any of us who could lose a loved one to it.
She's a good mom to her son, there is no question of that in my mind. But she is also a great mom to us all.
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