On Game Day We Wear Reproductive Rights and Sound Economic Policy

There’s nothing like rooting for your favorite team in person.

Sure, at home there’s not a line for the bathroom or metal bleachers to transmit arthritis directly to your hip joints. But you can’t beat the thrill of witnessing the starting line rush onto the field surrounded by 90,000 people, and also Sno-cones don’t taste as good sitting on the couch. 

Plus, they never air the halftime show on TV, which is a real loss because marching bands are as balletic as any specialty field goal team. 

The mister and I were ecstatic to be back between the hedges last Saturday for the UGA Homecoming game versus Vanderbilt, cheering the Bulldogs to a trouncing 55-0 victory over the Commodores. I mean, it probably wasn’t as exciting as the Alabama-Tennessee upset after which Volunteer fans tore down the goalpost and threw it in the river, but the roars of sic ‘em woofwoofwoof electrified the air and roused our spirits nonetheless.

It was also nice to feel a part of a singular entity for a minute. To me, the best part of Georgia football is how it transcends all other allegiances to unify people with absolutely nothing else in common. You could land in downtown Athens on game day from the outer stratosphere of the galaxy and as long as you were sporting the big ‘G,' someone’s mama would offer you a sweet tea and a sausage on the way into the stadium. 

But even the swath of Red and Black couldn't entirely cover the state of Georgia’s great divide. Though few political signs flapped amongst tailgaters, national news crews roamed the tents asking about the upcoming elections, people were easy to reveal the splintering of Dawg Nation just under the surface. (As a matter of fact, they interviewed one cute freshman with her own strong opinions.)

Savannah representin

Disturbingly, during the Glory, Glory chant before traditional pre-game blast of the Who’s  Baba O'Riley, we saw several instances in our section of the creepy one-finger hand gesture now ubiquitous at Trump rallies as well as—I swear on Stetson Bennett’s hairline—at least one straight up sieg heil salute (I wasn’t fast enough to snap a pic.) It was a chilling reminder that not all of us are on the same team, and next month’s election is no game.

It’s unlikely anyone reading this needs to be reminded what is at stake on Nov. 8. We know that the outcomes of the midterm elections will not only affect the lives of Georgians for years to come but also sway the balance of power for the entire country. Our votes will determine whether Americans actually want a true democracy—a government elected for the people, by the people—or would rather champion a bigoted autocracy that destroys what’s left of the planet while the rest of us are denied basic civil and human rights. 

It’s a real fucking nailbiter, y’all. 

While some look to this week’s Atlanta Press Club debates for candidates’ stances on policy and detailed solutions for the economy, it seems like other folks care more about the spectacle. What’s best for constituents has been superseded by winning at all costs, even if it means relentlessly parroting Putin propaganda and goading a brain-damaged man with a history of violence and no demonstrable knowledge of policy or grammar who pulls out a prop badge as evidence of his qualifications to govern. But four decades ago that baby sheriff once ran fast between the hedges with a football, and that’s all some Georgia voters care to know. 

I continue to be mystified by the false equivalence between the two sides of the ballot, as if these were two SEC rivals vying for the championship. But this is no friendly competition where everyone operates on a level playing field and the loser’s mascot gets shaving cream smeared on their car windows. 

No football team has ever tried to replace the referees with their own or stormed the stadium control room after they lost. No coach has ever announced in advance that they’d reject the final score unless it was in their favor. Criminy, even Alabama’s Nick Saban managed to keep his integrity after that embarrassing loss to Tennessee, practically making him look like a saint compared to the treasonous tyrant of Mar-a-Lago.

With womens’ right to govern their bodies, voter access, and the Constitution itself on the line, this election is no game. But we can’t give up on playing by the rules. While voting in person might not be as fun as attending a football game, your presence at the polls is how we win this thing. And by win, I mean put people in office who will put policies in place that protect the right to liberty and justice for all, not just for some.

Chatham County early voting is in full effect, and you can still request an absentee ballot by Oct. 28. If you’re able to contribute, your last minute donations to the campaigns of Wade Herring, Stacey Abrams and Rev. Raphael Warnock can help Georgia become a beacon for economic and social progress.

We’ve got some truly excellent candidates on the ballot, sports fans. Let’s keep cheering them on as if the future depends on it. 

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A little over a year ago, I remember cackling with Jane Fishman over the title of her new book, I’d Rather Be Seen Than Viewed, because death is only bearable if you laugh about it. Now that she has slipped over to Great Unknown after a valiant duel with cancer, I’m looking to her books to remind me of that lesson. 

Many of us are grieving the loss of her as a friend and Savannah’s brightest and most prolific cultural voice. She didn’t just hold institutional knowledge; she was an institution herself. Though I can absolutely hear her rolling her eyes at that and grumbling oh, pish.

Our Jane knew life is not a game; it’s a garden. She showed us that what’s important is what we grow while we’re here, and how much beauty and kindness we leave behind. 

Rest in power, Jane ~ JLL