WHY THIS TIME WOMEN WILL WIN

NOTE: (November 11, 2016)  On 11-9 news outlets declared Donald Trump the winner of the 2016 presidential election. Hillary Clinton won the popular contest by three million votes over Trump. Trump lost the popular contest by 11 million votes overall due to third-party candidates who drew away votes that might have changed the outcome.

Hillary carried 88 of the 100 most populated counties. In the history of USA elections, only Barack Obama has received more votes.

Jill Stein and Bernie Sanders siphoned 2.5 million votes. To win, Hillary needed 55% of the white female vote in Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin; she got 53% according to exit polls.

Who knows?

What is certain: had Hillary received 100 thousand more votes in those three democratic-leaning states where voters cast 13 million ballots; had she gathered another one-half percent of the combined total in the three states, the electoral college would have tipped in her favor; she would be the president-elect.

With a multitude of third-party candidates staying in the race, Clinton couldn’t win in the electoral college. Trump, for his part, received 11 million votes less than Hillary and third-party candidates combined.

The election result is unfair and debilitating to the ideals of government we hold dear. Billy Lee believes that the result will prove to be catastrophic to the country we love; to the country many have given their lives to protect and defend. It is a sad end to democracy as we know it.

The good news is that people don’t seem to care — so no harm done; at least not yet. Does it matter to anyone at all that the USA may soon collapse; that our citizens may have voted in the last somewhat fair election?

Most informed people understand that no way exists to hold fair elections. Elections that approach fairness are possible when candidates follow the rules. Collaborating with foreign governments like Russia and Israel is not only unfair, it’s illegal.

So what difference does it make this time around? Statistical analysis points to tampering in some districts. Recounts were stopped by the GOP in every state. Is it possible that our most recent election was not fairly counted?

We may never know.


Reality Winner, NSA whistle blower.

9 Sept 2018  

NSA employee Reality Winner is now serving 5 years in federal prison for providing the press with NSA documents that confirmed vote-counting fraud.

The Editors


From our lofty vantage point, it looks like nothing really matters. Life goes on, as it always does in a world that has never been truly free or democratic and may never be.

Brave women got hurt again by powerful men.  It’s not new. 

The Editorial Board


Hillary Clinton is going to be the Democratic nominee for president in 2016. Does anyone think it can be otherwise?  Donald Trump will run against her. Does anyone imagine that this billionaire standard-bearer for the new Confederacy is going to abandon politics and flee peacefully into the night? Of course not. Hitler didn’t.

The war of the alpha-male verses the diminutive-submissive-female has waged for tens-of-thousands of years and the outcome is always the same: men start and fight wars; men write laws; men write scripture; men dominate and abuse women. The women who object; who say no; who stand their ground, men label witches; they burn them at the phallic stake.

Taylor Swift wrote — in her song, Blank Space — “Boys only want love if it’s torture.”  Really. The history of male-female relationships on planet Earth is sickening. It’s disgusting.


taylor Swift boys only want love if it's torture


Men demand compliant females, and they use their intellect and imagination to invent sadistic systems of social intercourse to push women and girls into the most precarious and perilous predicaments of powerlessness imaginable. (Are there too many p’s and s’s in the last sentence? Am I starting to rant?)

I’m fed up. I’m fed up with myself and my own personal history with women and girls. I’m fed up with the alpha-males who trash the planet and destroy lives — all because they like to play with gunpowder and rockets and bombs and hi-tech weapons for a thrill they get, apparently, from testosterone-gone-wild. (I am ranting; forgive me.)

We have reached the place in our history as a species when violent, well-meaning but pumped-up men are going to get us all killed — while they poison the planet to extinction — if we don’t change a few things. Time is running out; it’s time for changes, right now.


African Queen, Lauren with machete
Hollywood gave us a vision of a man and a woman working as partners to survive against overwhelming odds in a hostile environment designed, it seemed, to utterly destroy them. From the 1951 classic film, African Queen.

OK. I’m going to calm down. I guess I got emotional, because I hate how they hurt Obama; and I know they are going to hurt Hillary. It’s hard to watch the bullies and the haters spew their venom day after day, because they believe — way down deep in their carnivorous second-amendment-loving souls — that if it ain’t white and male, it’s un-American.

Does Hillary Clinton have the sense to protect herself by appointing a female running-mate? Selecting a progressive like Elizabeth Warren could help diminish a temptation some men might feel to make a violent adjustment to the voice of the electorate; an electorate that may already be completely ready to approve a bi-female ticket; most likely in a landslide of epic proportions.

Six years ago, Jimmy Carter, our thirty-ninth president, got fed up and wrote a letter — to a journal most folks never heard of — about the abuse of women in the church and in the world. It was ignored at the time. A few months ago, in April 2015, the letter resurfaced, passed into cyberspace and went viral.

The Pontificator is reprinting it here for readers who didn’t see it in 2009 or don’t remember it. It has provided a link to the original opinion-piece at the end of this essay, because in this version the Editorial Board redacted a few words to protect sensitive readers; mostly children.

What we reproduce below is Jimmy Carter’s explanation of the reasons why he resigned his affiliation with the Southern Baptist Convention — an organization where for years he played a prominent role. He shares his painful experience to give courage to those who dare to stand up for others who are devalued, shunned and excluded from prominent roles, because God made them female; because the alpha-males in the SBC who exercised authority interpreted Scripture to maximize male-privilege.

President Carter writes that the SBC adopted policies that devalued women and excluded them from leadership — no exceptions permitted. No one has to agree with all of the former president’s reasons — or any of them, for that matter. The Billy Lee Pontificator Editorial Board most certainly does not agree with everything he wrote.

I am reprinting his article, because I have always admired Mr. Carter; even before he became president. Jimmy Carter is the only president we’ve ever had who never killed anyone or ordered anyone killed. Correct me, if anyone can prove me wrong. No one can.

Jimmy Carter’s feat of non-violent pacifism is as spectacular an achievement as any human being can accomplish who directs a country as militarized and corrupt as our own.

In 2002, former President Carter won the Nobel Peace Prize, because, among other accomplishments, he established in 1982 the Carter Center, which became a powerful catalyst for the world-wide advancement of human rights and the alleviation of human suffering.

Someday, probably sooner than later, Jimmy Carter will die. It’s because he’s old. He’s ninety-one. Aging presents a person with a lot of challenges, some of which are difficult to articulate; difficult to explain. Getting old changes us. Some discover a clarity of thought and moral insight they never dreamed possible in their youth.

Getting old has it’s downside, too. No one likes it. But as my dear dad used to say when he was alive, Old age sure beats the alternative.

What follows below are the words of our thirty-ninth president, Jimmy Carter:

Billy Lee


July 15, 2009
THE AGE Federal Politics


Jimmy Carter gets his bars pinned on by his wife Rosalynn, left and his mother, Mrs. Lillian Carter at the U.S. Naval Academy in this undated photo. (AP Photo)

Wife Rosalynn Carter and his mother Lillian apply Jimmy Carter’s officer insignia bars at the U.S. Naval Academy. Thirty years later he ran successfully for president of the United States (1977-1981). He won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2002. (AP Photo)


I have been a practicing Christian all my life and a deacon and Bible teacher for many years. My faith is a source of strength and comfort to me, as religious beliefs are to hundreds of millions of people around the world. So my decision to sever my ties with the Southern Baptist Convention, after six decades, was painful and difficult. It was, however, an unavoidable decision when the convention’s leaders, quoting a few carefully selected Bible verses and claiming that Eve was created second to Adam and was responsible for original sin, ordained that women must be “subservient” to their husbands and prohibited from serving as deacons, pastors or chaplains in the military service.

This view that women are somehow inferior to men is not restricted to one religion or belief. Women are prevented from playing a full and equal role in many faiths. Nor, tragically, does its influence stop at the walls of the church, mosque, synagogue or temple. This discrimination, unjustifiably attributed to a Higher Authority, has provided a reason or excuse for the deprivation of women’s equal rights across the world for centuries.

At its most repugnant, the belief that women must be subjugated to the wishes of men excuses slavery, violence, forced prostitution, [REDACTED] and national laws that omit [REDACTED] as a crime. But it also costs many millions of girls and women control over their own bodies and lives, and continues to deny them fair access to education, health, employment and influence within their own communities.

The impact of these religious beliefs touches every aspect of our lives. They help explain why in many countries boys are educated before girls; why girls are told when and whom they must marry; and why many face enormous and unacceptable risks in pregnancy and childbirth because their basic health needs are not met.

In some Islamic nations, women are restricted in their movements, punished for permitting the exposure of an arm or ankle, deprived of education, prohibited from driving a car or competing with men for a job. If a woman is [REDACTED], she is often most severely punished as the guilty party in the crime.

The same discriminatory thinking lies behind the continuing gender gap in pay and why there are still so few women in office in the West. The root of this prejudice lies deep in our histories, but its impact is felt every day. It is not women and girls alone who suffer. It damages all of us. The evidence shows that investing in women and girls delivers major benefits for society. An educated woman has healthier children. She is more likely to send them to school. She earns more and invests what she earns in her family.

It is simply self-defeating for any community to discriminate against half its population. We need to challenge these self-serving and outdated attitudes and practices — as we are seeing in Iran where women are at the forefront of the battle for democracy and freedom.

I understand, however, why many political leaders can be reluctant about stepping into this minefield. Religion, and tradition, are powerful and sensitive areas to challenge. But my fellow Elders and I, who come from many faiths and backgrounds, no longer need to worry about winning votes or avoiding controversy — and we are deeply committed to challenging injustice wherever we see it.

The Elders are an independent group of eminent global leaders, brought together by former South African president Nelson Mandela, who offer their influence and experience to support peace building, help address major causes of human suffering and promote the shared interests of humanity. We have decided to draw particular attention to the responsibility of religious and traditional leaders in ensuring equality and human rights and have recently published a statement that declares: “The justification of discrimination against women and girls on grounds of religion or tradition, as if it were prescribed by a Higher Authority, is unacceptable.”

We are calling on all leaders to challenge and change the harmful teachings and practices, no matter how ingrained, which justify discrimination against women. We ask, in particular, that leaders of all religions have the courage to acknowledge and emphasize the positive messages of dignity and equality that all the world’s major faiths share.

The carefully selected verses found in the to justify the superiority of men owe more to time and place — and the determination of male leaders to hold onto their influence — than eternal truths. Similar biblical excerpts could be found to support the approval of slavery and the timid acquiescence to oppressive rulers.

I am also familiar with vivid descriptions in the same Scriptures in which women are revered as pre-eminent leaders. During the years of the early Christian church women served as deacons, priests, bishops, apostles, teachers and prophets. It wasn’t until the fourth century that dominant Christian leaders, all men, twisted and distorted Holy Scriptures to perpetuate their ascendant positions within the religious hierarchy.

The truth is that male religious leaders have had — and still have — an option to interpret holy teachings either to exalt or subjugate women. They have, for their own selfish ends, overwhelmingly chosen the latter. Their continuing choice provides the foundation or justification for much of the pervasive persecution and abuse of women throughout the world. This is in clear violation not just of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights but also the teachings of Jesus Christ, the Apostle Paul, Moses and the prophets, Muhammad, and founders of other great religions — all of whom have called for proper and equitable treatment of all the children of God. It is time we had the courage to challenge these views.

Jimmy Carter
39th president of the United States


Note to readers: In college, Jimmy Carter competed on the Naval Academy’s track-team with fellow athlete Wesley Brown — the first African-American midshipman to graduate from our country’s most elite military college. They became friends.

In 1958, Wesley Brown, by then an active-duty naval officer, and Billy Lee, then a fourth-grader, became neighbors; their families lived next door to each other in the Hoskins Park military housing complex (now Wickford Pointe, a private community) near the Naval Air Station at Quonset Point, Rhode Island.

Billy Lee’s childhood relationship with this extraordinary naval officer is the backdrop to his essay, Racism, which might interest some readers.

The Editorial Board 

RACISM

In 1958 when I was a fourth grader our family moved to Quonset Point, Rhode Island where my dad was soon promoted to lead HS-11, one of the Navy jet-helicopter squadrons defending the east coast from attack by Russian submarines.

We moved to Quonset Point with some trepidation because Hoskins Park — the housing project for military families in those days (now sold, redeveloped, and renamed Wickford Point) — had a long waiting list; we didn’t know where we would live or if we could afford off-base housing.

As it turned out, we got a lucky break. A Navy Lieutenant — who was a Negro — moved his family into Hoskins Park. Some white officers found out and decided their families weren’t going to live in non-segregated housing. As a result, vacancies popped-up, and we got in; we moved-in next door to the Negro officer and his family.


In 1958, my family moved to Quonset Point, Rhode Island. Inexpensive on-base housing was overcrowded. We didn’t know where we would live, or if we could afford to live anywhere.

Lieutenant Brown, his wife and two daughters, lived in the two-story, condo-style apartment on the other side of a thin concrete wall from us.

Despite the custom that white and black families didn’t fraternize in those days, eventually I had encounters, conversations, and interactions with all the members of the Brown family.

Over time, I came to understand how traumatized they were, each in their own way, living in a country that, basically, isolated and mistreated them.


Guess-Whos-Coming-to-Dinner
My parents accepted an invitation to the Brown’s for dinner — an event that had all the drama of the movie, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, released nine years later, in 1967.

One encounter involved my parents. The Browns invited them for dinner to get acquainted, and after agonizing about it, Mom and Dad accepted.  I think Dad wanted to check them out; to make sure his kids would be “safe” living next door.

After the meal, Dad reported that the Lieutenant’s wife, Jean (Alston), was a good cook, but he couldn’t shake a queasy feeling in his stomach, which spoiled his appetite. He had never interacted with negroes, except servants (everyone called black people negroes in the 1950s); he certainly had not eaten food at the same table. And, unlike my dad, Mr. Brown was a graduate of the Naval Academy.

In that sense, the lieutenant kind of outranked him. According to dad, Academy graduates favored one another and worked hard to help each other achieve promotions. They put non-Academy graduates (like dad) to great disadvantage in the competition for rank, which was fierce inside the Navy.

A black Academy graduate presented a dilemma. Brown was a graduate of the elite Naval Academy with all its privileges and protections; at the same time, he belonged to a race that was, to put it politely, undervalued both by the Navy and the country at large. It was unfamiliar terrain for dad and made him uncomfortable. I remember my parents writing a thank-you note to the Brown’s for their hospitality but as far as I know, they didn’t return an invitation.

Another incident occurred a few weeks later that changed the way I thought about people and what they sometimes go through. It happened on a day when my fourth-grade teacher decided to punish me for violation of good-citizenship. I sassed her, she claimed, because I insisted — in a loud voice before classmates — she couldn’t tell me what to do! She wasn’t my parent!

In my mind, it made sense. To show how wrong I was, she kept me after school to clean the blackboard. She forced me to practice my reading. I left school an hour late.

When I arrived home, I saw Billie — Lieutenant Brown’s sixth-grade daughter — standing on her porch a few feet from ours, crying, and shifting back and forth on her feet in a puddle of — I took a second look to be sure — her own pee. I couldn’t believe it; I didn’t know what to say or do. I ran inside our condo to tell mom.

I wish I could say that Mom brought Billie into our place, helped her clean-up, and gave her a secure place to wait until her mom got home with a key. But mother did nothing like that. Instead, she became animated and began to marvel about how such an embarrassing calamity could befall a sweet girl like Billie. I became annoyed. Why didn’t she ask us?  I interrupted. We would have let her use our bathroom!

Maybe she was afraid to ask, mom said. Maybe she was afraid we would say, no.

So afraid she let her stomach burst? I yelled.


Little Rock 9 segregation racism black suffering
1957. Daisy Bates tries to enter Central High in Little Rock, Arkansas. President Eisenhower sent the 101st Airborne Division to rescue her and eight other students from angry whites. It was the following year that our family moved to Quonset Point, Rhode Island.

Some weeks after, I stood alone in the playground behind our building when Billie walked up. We didn’t speak but sat down together on the ground to draw pictures in the gray clay beneath us — clay the housing complex we shared was built on.

It didn’t seem right to sit with someone and not talk but I couldn’t think of anything to say. Billie was a couple of years older. We had little in common, it seemed. We concentrated for a while, in silence, on our art.

Then, she looked up. She fixed her eyes on mine. I didn’t look away. I tried to hold her gaze. Finally, she whispered. She said simply, I hate being colored.

I felt the blood drain from my face. Hate was a bad word. We didn’t use the word hate in our family.

To hear Billie whisper, hate, about herself — hate about something she had no control over or responsibility for, which she couldn’t change, wish away, or escape — upended my internal world. In that moment, the ground shifted beneath my feet.

Somehow, hearing her speak those words — and the mental image I had created in my memory of the day she danced in a pool of her own urine — conflated in my mind. As Billie waded ankle-deep in her own bodily fluids, I heard her screaming.  I hate being colored!!!  I hate it!!  I hate it!  I hate it. 

In my imagination, I took my place beside her. I raged against God and all the earth for making her colored; for allowing white people to be so insensitive, so mean, so un-caring, so ill-tempered, so prejudiced. 

—————

Billie’s father supervised a motor-pool near, but outside, the Quonset Point military base. According to friends of my mom, he was some kind of gas-station attendant. One warm day, he saw me playing outside and asked if I wanted to take a ride with him in his new convertible. I said sure.

He said he wanted to show me something. He was in charge of something and wanted to show me what it was. He wanted to show me what he did. At his work. 

I thought, this is a crazy request. After all, I didn’t know what my own dad did. He’d never taken me to work or showed me anything having to do with what he was about when he wasn’t home.

So, I climbed into Mr. Brown’s convertible, top down, and off we went. It turned out that he was good at small talk. I listened happily to his resonant voice and enjoyed the sun and warm breezes as we rambled along. We passed through some old guard shacks, a few barbed-wire-topped chain-link fences, and entered an area so remote and wild, it was hard to believe we were still in Rhode Island.

We drove through a dense grove of trees and up onto a hill. Mr. Brown slowed the car and stopped. The sun blazed into the open convertible. Look, he said. He frowned, then nudged my shoulder and pointed. Look down there. 


M113a
There were more military vehicles under Navy Lieutenant Brown’s command than I imagined there were cars in the entire world.  This photo of a military motor-pool in a western state reminds me of what I saw in Rhode Island.

Below us for as far as my eyes could see, in a valley that stretched to the very edge of Earth, sat thousands of green and gray trucks and jeeps; armored personnel carriers and tanks; military vehicles of every stripe and size, all neatly parked in long straight lines. As a naive fourth grader, I found the view hard to take in. There lay spread below us more vehicles than I imagined existed in the entire world. 

It was the second time a member of the Brown family stunned me. I was speechless. Then I said, you’re in charge of all of those trucks?  Navy Lieutenant Brown smiled, sadly, I thought, then looked at me like Billie had.

I am, he said.

Billy Lee

Editor’s Postscript:  This story is grounded in the memories of a fourth grader of events that occurred almost sixty years ago. The make of Mr. Brown’s car and the nature of the installation visited may or may not be accurate. 

After writing this article, Billy Lee learned that Mr. Brown, sadly, passed away on May 22, 2012, at age 85 from cancer. After reading old press releases, he discovered that historian Robert J. Schneller had published a book in 2005 about Mr. Brown’s experiences at the Naval Academy called Breaking the Color Barrier. In 1949, it turns out, Midshipman Brown became the school’s first black graduate. 

Unknown to Billy Lee, Wesley Brown had become an historical figure. Billy Lee has asked the Editors to add biographical notes to his post.

In 1958, neither Billy Lee nor Mr. Brown’s neighbors knew that the young Naval officer owned the distinction of being the first black midshipman to graduate from the Naval Academy. In the racial climate of the 1950’s, an achievement like Mr. Brown’s would have been seen as the exception that proved the rule: Negroes were inferior. It would have been bad taste in polite society to call attention to Lieutenant Brown’s achievement. 

None of Wesley’s neighbors, Billy Lee recalls, had any idea of the hell he went through to become a Naval officer. In any event, white people in 1958 were so blinded by racism that they would have thought, had they known: Wesley’s accomplishment was of no consequence; it was not worth mentioning or even thinking about. 

It’s hard to believe now, but white Americans in 1958 didn’t know their country had a race problem.


esley Brown was the first black graduate of the Naval Academy. During his four years at the Academy, where he studied engineering, he lived alone. He said he didn't want a roommate. I believe he yearned for one, but no one would share a room with him. Wesley was gracious and had too much class to call attention to the racism of his mates who were the best and brightest young men in the USA at that time. Prevented by racists from joining the Academy choir, he joined the track team where an upperclassman, the future President Jimmy Carter, befriended him.
Wesley Brown was the first black graduate of the Naval Academy.  Because no white midshipmen would share a room with him, he lived alone during the four years it took to earn his engineering degree. When classmates blocked his admission to the academy choir, Wesley joined the cross-country track team where future President and upperclassman, Jimmy Carter, befriended him.

wesley brown


Wesley Brown became the first black American to survive the racial hazing at the Naval Academy and graduate. I knew him to be a happy person with a charitable attitude toward all people. He was a kind and gentle neighbor who, during the year of 1958, made me feel good each time I saw or spent time with him.

His wife, Jean (Alston), led our church choir and taught me to sing. We did a television show under her direction. His daughter, Willetta (Billie), transformed my view of the world with a single sentence. I read somewhere that Carol, the youngest daughter, did well in life.

After our families parted ways, Wesley’s family grew to include sons. Eventually, Wesley Brown and Jean divorced; Wesley married Crystal Malone in 1963. He rose to the rank of Lieutenant Commander before retiring in 1969 to pursue other interests.

As my story tells, it was racism in the Navy that made it possible for me to know the Browns. Midshipman Wesley Brown changed America for the better. He suffered to accomplish it, but he kept his pain to himself and his closest friends.

I am proud to say that once, I knew Wesley Brown and he knew me.

Billy Lee