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On Saturday, September 12, America threw a gigantic temper tantrum in Washington D.C. Organizers called it the “largest gathering of fiscal conservatives in history,” and they’re probably right. But for an angry, anti-government fit, the march was remarkably civil...
But as much as it appeared the forces of darkness were gathering, this was also a profoundly hopeful event. The Republicans have alternatives--they brandished a reassuring stack of paper that contained all the proposals they’ve been introducing, only to be ignored by the mainstream media and crushed by Democratic leadership. And with the help of ordinary citizens, there was still time to stop the madness.
"I am actually tremendously excited to be here. This is an incredible moment,” Shadegg told the crowd. “And you know what makes it incredible? You. You make it incredible.”
Later that day, they convened again, this time at Upper Senate Park near the Capitol, for a “Physicians Rally Against Socialized Medicine.” There’s something so trustworthy about people in lab coats, and the ultra-conservative group American Association of Physicians and Surgeons had gathered their members to dramatize the point. This is when Obama really started to look bad.
“Doctors have been accused of actually mutilating their patients for financial gain,” an earnest-looking doctor named Scott Barber told the crowd, before describing his long, tortuous years spent training for his profession. “To be honest with you, I’m kind of livid.” Right! The guy next to me shouted. Lies! Cried another. “Because we do not do amputations instead of treat diabetes! We do not take out tonsils instead of treating a sore throat!”
And then, it became not only anti-doctor, but also anti-American, to suggest that the U.S. health care system even needed reform. “We have the best health care system here and everyone knows it,” said another speaker. The cheer went up: USA! USA! USA!
I have never felt more welcome as a reporter than I did at a “Meet and Tweet,” advertised as a gathering of tea partying women on the eve of the march, at the Doubletree Hotel.
“Are you a tweeter?” cried Dianne Shaw, sitting primly cross-legged, in a gray skirt set. About ten middle-aged women sat around a table crowded with empty wine glasses and a few bottles of Heineken, delicately munching mini cheeseburgers. I explained that I wasn’t, but no matter--they sat me down to join the conversation.
One of the 9/12 Project organizers’ primary claims is that their participants are political neophytes, not seasoned activists. That, at least, appears to be true: Almost everyone I talked to was doing this for the first time, and most were tremendously excited. Donna Cohen, a Pennsylvanian with short red hair, was one exception; she had marched against the Vietnam War in the 1960s, but later apologized to the troops. “I said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you were right,’” she told me. “But this is as much fun as I’ve had since the ‘60s!”
The discussion drifted from outrage to outrage, lingering on health care. No one actually doesn’t have insurance, the women agreed. Obama’s numbers of the uninsured keep wavering; maybe he just stopped factoring in the illegals. Besides, everyone can just go to the emergency room, or one of those clinics that Wal-Mart runs.
“This administration does not understand the free market,” someone pronounced.
“The only people with private insurance will be unions!” said another.
Above the chatter, Shaw, a retired voice teacher from Alabama, leaned over to get my attention. “I tell you, my Facebook is hot,” she said, putting on her glasses and pulling out her iPhone. She started reading wall postings from all the people back home in Birmingham. “‘I’m so jealous. I want a full report,’” one read. And another: “‘Give ‘em a wedgie!’ Or--I’m not going to say this--‘call them a doo-doo head for me.’”
“I could go on and on,” she gushed. “All these people, rooting for me!”
In a weekend well-attended by women but largely led by men--nearly all the speakers at all the rallies were male politicians and talking heads--this was a rare moment of female camaraderie. It felt like they were on the edge of something big. “We should have a women’s party!” someone proposed.
