Debaucheries of the Far Right
That, in the simplest terms, is how I understand the recent rulings of the Supreme Court of the United States.
We are now free to carry concealed handguns without meaningful state regulation. Women and girls are being forced to give birth, even in cases of rape and incest. We are increasingly unrestrained in our destruction of the environment. Prayer is being ushered back into public schools under the guise of freedom. What else can this be called, if not the debaucheries of this nation’s far right?
We are now free to carry concealed handguns without meaningful state regulation. Women and girls are being forced to give birth, even in cases of rape and incest. We are increasingly unrestrained in our destruction of the environment. Prayer is being ushered back into public schools under the guise of freedom. What else can this be called, if not the debaucheries of this nation’s far right?
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| Photo by Fred Moon on Unsplash |
When I began writing about political and social issues, it was not merely to register my personal views. It was to draw attention to something larger: the state of our shared humanity. Last November, when I referenced New York State’s gun control case before the Supreme Court alongside a recipe, I did not analyze the ruling in detail. I wrote instead about the deeper unease it stirred in me—the sorrow of realizing how many people live in such fear of one another that they feel entitled to carry lethal weapons as a form of reassurance.
I was not surprised, but I was still shaken, when the Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Women in this country lost fundamental authority over our bodies, our lives, and our reproductive choices. When I wrote about abortion rights last year, I could not escape the feeling that this moment was coming. Knowing it was possible did not make its arrival any less devastating.
As painful as it has been to watch the nation regress in human rights, personal safety, and social well-being, I find myself asking an uncomfortable question: how much responsibility do we share for what is unfolding now? While conservatives spent decades methodically building a Court engineered to deliver these outcomes, what did the rest of us do to ensure that gun control, reproductive rights, and environmental protections were not left vulnerable to constitutional interpretations drafted nearly 235 years ago?
If these rulings are not thunderous warnings to stop talking and start taking actions, then I don’t know what will be.
We can no longer rely on moral outrage or social media declarations. It is time to learn from the very forces we oppose. The National Rifle Association did not secure its power through feelings or hashtags. It did so through sustained financial pressure, legal strategy, and political influence.
The battles ahead will not be won over dinner conversations or online debates. They will be fought in courtrooms and on Capitol Hill—by lawyers, advocates, and lobbyists. And that work requires money.
So we need to be honest with ourselves. What is the price you are willing to pay for your beliefs? For your bodily autonomy? For your daughter’s, your niece’s, your granddaughter’s safety and freedom? What can you afford to contribute to reducing gun violence and mass shootings?
It is bleak to acknowledge that defending basic rights now demands financial commitment. But this is where we are. Polite disagreement will not restore reproductive rights, protect the environment, or curb gun violence. This will be a long fight. And the speed of our first victories will depend not on how eloquently we speak, but on how materially we are willing to support those fighting on our behalf—in the courts and in Congress.
I was not surprised, but I was still shaken, when the Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Women in this country lost fundamental authority over our bodies, our lives, and our reproductive choices. When I wrote about abortion rights last year, I could not escape the feeling that this moment was coming. Knowing it was possible did not make its arrival any less devastating.
As painful as it has been to watch the nation regress in human rights, personal safety, and social well-being, I find myself asking an uncomfortable question: how much responsibility do we share for what is unfolding now? While conservatives spent decades methodically building a Court engineered to deliver these outcomes, what did the rest of us do to ensure that gun control, reproductive rights, and environmental protections were not left vulnerable to constitutional interpretations drafted nearly 235 years ago?
If these rulings are not thunderous warnings to stop talking and start taking actions, then I don’t know what will be.
We can no longer rely on moral outrage or social media declarations. It is time to learn from the very forces we oppose. The National Rifle Association did not secure its power through feelings or hashtags. It did so through sustained financial pressure, legal strategy, and political influence.
The battles ahead will not be won over dinner conversations or online debates. They will be fought in courtrooms and on Capitol Hill—by lawyers, advocates, and lobbyists. And that work requires money.
So we need to be honest with ourselves. What is the price you are willing to pay for your beliefs? For your bodily autonomy? For your daughter’s, your niece’s, your granddaughter’s safety and freedom? What can you afford to contribute to reducing gun violence and mass shootings?
It is bleak to acknowledge that defending basic rights now demands financial commitment. But this is where we are. Polite disagreement will not restore reproductive rights, protect the environment, or curb gun violence. This will be a long fight. And the speed of our first victories will depend not on how eloquently we speak, but on how materially we are willing to support those fighting on our behalf—in the courts and in Congress.
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