Good Grief Pravda readers are ganging up on Gwen!
Princeton, NJ: Gwen, I’m 70 years old and grew up in a small town in southern NJ which was culturally part of the South. In 4th grade, our schools were forcibly desegregated by the State. Years later, when my father ran for school board, he was called a “n****r lover” because we helped a number of black HS students go to college. I have always supported civil right efforts such as affirmative action. But no more.
My daughter went to Wellesley where she fell in love with a classmate. After graduation, they responsibly waited until they secured good jobs before getting married in a beautiful ceremony they wrote themselves. They are an admirable couple, working fulltime, getting further education at night and on weekends. It is difficult to see how they threaten anyone at all.
On Election Day, over 70% of the black people in CA, egged on by almost 100% of their clergy, voted to ban marriages such as my daughter’s. Please don’t talk about tradition (slavery was traditional also) or God’s will. The four words that describe this vote are bigotry, fear, ignorance and hatred. The one word that describes my feelings is betrayal.
Gwen Ifill: Let me get this right. Some people in California disagree with your views on a sensitive issue, and they are no longer deserving of your support on any civil rights measures anywhere?
No you don’t see, dear — as is obvious from the exchange that shortly follows:
Re: Princeton: Ms. Ifill, Princeton never said that she no longer supports the civil rights of African Americans, but noted that she felt betrayed by that community. The gay community has been overwhelmingly supportive of civil rights for all for such a long time. Many of us were proud to be a part of electing Obama the first black president. So yes, when a community that many of us supported did not show the same support and stabbed us in the back, betrayal is a word that comes to mind.
I wonder what would have happened if the United States decided to vote on slavery, women’s voting rights, or interracial marriage. Isn’t it weird how it’s not appropriate to vote on civil rights — unless they aren’t yours.
Gwen Ifill: I am going to leave this to you to work out among yourselves. But for the record, I expressed NO opinion about Prop 8 or about how anyone should define civil rights. I leave that, as always, for you.
Isn’t she the slickest thing?
Return with us now to those days of yesteryear when the ever-intrepid Bob Somberby noted –
Needless to say, Rice and Ifill continued the mutual panderthon they staged on that July 30 NewsHour. Here’s one part of their Dallas exchange. Get your barf bags ready:
IFILL: Someone said to me last week, after you said that you took responsibility for—as the president said he took responsibility for [the 16 words]—that you actually got off easy; that George Tenet, the CIA director, fell on his sword in a very public, spectacular fashion; that Stephen Hadley, your deputy, went in front of the hordes of White House press corps and they picked him apart, and that you got to come out and say, “Oh, sorry,” and disappear behind a curtain. Did you get off easy?
RICE: You know what, Gwen, I don’t think being with you on the Lehrer Report was disappearing behind a curtain by any stretch of the imagination.
Gag us! But for the record, things were even worse when Rice was introduced. Here were the good doctor’s comments:
RICE: Thank you very much. I’d like to thank Gwen for that wonderful introduction. And even if you aren’t getting invited, I can tell you that she is, in fact, an excellent cook. I’ve been able to partake of that since I’ve been in Washington.
So Ifill provides home cooking off the air, too! Can anyone offer a clearer picture of our deeply compromised press corps culture?
Oh we get the picture, Bob! Especially when it’s filled in by this note in a Time mini-bio:
She has never married. Of this she has said, “I don’t know why I’m not married. I just know I will be, so I don’t sweat it”
Don’t sweat it, Gwen. Prop 8 is bound to be overturned sooner or later! But until that day, the next time Condi calls sing her a little Sondhem.