Courting a new age, a new America

In the fall of sixth grade, my teacher made a big deal about teaching us about Sandra Day O'Connor. I became momentarily fascinated with her after learning she had grown up a bit of a rough-and-tumble rancher, despite her pearls-and-pumps appearance, and upon learning of the buzz about her: O'Connor was about to become the first woman to sit on the U.S. Supreme Court. Even back then, I remember thinking "why is she the first woman to do it?" It only took 41 more years before we finally got a Black woman, when the U.S. Senate voted to confirm Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson. "It has taken 232 years and 115 prior appointments for a Black woman to be selected to serve on the Supreme Court of the United States, but we've made it! We've made it — all of us," she said, standing Friday between President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris on the South Lawn of the White House. And again I wondered, "why so long? Why is she the first Black woman to do this job?" I know why it took so long for a woman to hold this job. Just like I know why it took until 2009 for Justice Sonia Sotomayor, the first Hispanic woman on the court, to be appointed. Just like any Black woman can tell you why it took this long for someone who looks like them to be a justice. Maybe because, as one of my Black friends says, Black women have to be "twice as good, run twice as hard and be twice as smart to get to the same place in history as their counterparts." In the past four years I've seen more Confederate flags hanging outside houses and on homes and trucks and shirts and hats than I've seen in all the previous years of my life, combined. Just a few weeks ago I wrote about a young boy screaming "white power" in the face of a Black classmate in the gym at a nearby middle school. Representation matters. I believe in a nation that is strengthened by looking more like we, the people. For a court with a 232-year history that just last week saw confirmation of its eighth member who is not a white man, it is long overdue for some change. Listen, back when I was learning about O'Connor, I was also learning to pull my weight with the boys, playing recess football every single day. Here's what you might not know, if you didn't grow up female: Standing up for, and proving, yourself around boys while navigating puberty and treacherous girl friendship circles is like skipping rocks across volcanoes. I was the youngest of six siblings, floundering to find my place at home and in the treacherous social pecking order at school. For me, finding out O'Connor's job — or at least my interpretation of it — was to tell people what they could do, for as long as she wanted, which sounded way better than being president. Every adult told us that being president was the best job we could dream of, but not one girl I know ever seriously considered it as an actual possibility. It may have been said in so many words — but where were the actual numbers, my mind questioned. If opportunities are truly equal, why is our country this old and we are still counting so many of our minority leaders as "firsts"? I am struck that the respected O'Connor, conservative and appointed by Republican President Ronald Reagan, was confirmed 99-0. In 2009, the liberal Sotomayor was appointed by Democratic President Barack Obama. She was confirmed 68-31. There has never been a Native American, Muslim or Asian justice. By the time the respected Jackson, liberal and appointed by Democrat Biden, came to a vote, three Republicans had to break ranks to join the Democrats to make the vote 53-47. The Senate floor broke out in spontaneous applause following the historic vote, at which point Republicans, with the exception of Utah Sen. Mitt Romney, walked out. Romney broke with his party to approve Jackson. The walk-out was still arguably less blasé than the actions of three GOP senators, Jim Inhofe of Oklahoma, Lindsey Graham of South Carolina and Rand Paul of Kentucky, who refused to even don neckties, as required by Senate rules to vote from the floor. Their votes were given from the cloakroom. Paul pushed it one step further, holding up the vote for nearly half an hour, only to finally thrust out his "thumbs down" from the cloakroom. I don't even think that's politics, really. Imagine history being made, but it's not your flavor — so you refuse to get dressed and get your picture taken in the big room. One thing about women in leadership, though: Jackson, as a mother of two, has surely seen those sort of tantrums before. Contact Chronicle-Telegram columnist Rini Jeffers at rinijeffers@gmail.com.