Author: Jen Clarke

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Opinion The Last Word

A Modest Proposal

CREDIT: © Palinchak | Dreamstime

Like most non-racist Memphians, I was disappointed but not surprised to hear we will not be getting the resolution we hoped for on the matter of a certain statue next week. The Tennessee Historical Commission will not be considering the city’s request to remove the divisive monument to Civil War loser and wizard of racism Nathan Bedford Forrest from the eastern gateway of our downtown for at least another four months.

The commission claims to be “working out the rules” for hearing the request and cannot make any legally binding decisions until that process is complete. They intend to vote on the rules at the October meeting, after which they will be submitted to the state attorney general and secretary of state. Something tells me they are in no hurry. The 29-member commission did not specify any details regarding the rules waiver applicants should expect to follow, but they apparently can unilaterally agree on one thing: They’re not reviewing any waivers anytime soon.

© Palinchak | Dreamstime

Hillary Clinton

I dunno, y’all. I think they might be stringing us along. It’s crazy — I was always taught that conservatives believed in sovereignty and minimizing government. Empowering an appointed commission to decide what cities can do with their land and property seems like a bit of an overreach. The Tennessee Heritage Protection Act was introduced by a Civil War reenactor in response to the renaming of three Memphis parks in 2013. It only mentions military conflicts — so statues honoring civil rights leaders, cultural visionaries, and important figures who are actually relevant to Tennessee’s history are not protected. As I long suspected, “heritage” is code. The law has one purpose. Taking the waiver route might be a … lost cause.

There are other options. The text of the Tennessee Heritage Protection Act stipulates monuments cannot be “relocated, removed, altered, renamed, rededicated, or otherwise disturbed” from public property. So the city can sell the property, right? Just tape off the perimeter around Mr. and Mrs. Nate Bed and auction the land to the highest bidder. The graves and the statue won’t be included in the deal, of course. Transfer funds, sign papers, shake hands, move the Forrests back to Elmwood Cemetery and the statue to a museum. Use the proceeds from the transaction to erect a nice monument to Martin Luther King Jr. for the 50th anniversary of his assassination.

Here’s another out-of-the-box idea I think will change some minds: Put a statue of Hillary Clinton in the park. A larger-than-life bronze statue of the former First Lady astride a unicorn, leaping over a mountain of emails. As secretary of state, Hillary was in the situation room when Osama bin Laden was captured during Operation Enduring Freedom. There’s your war connection. So the statue would be protected under the Tennessee Heritage Protection Act. And Health Sciences Park would be an ideal location to erect a monument to the woman who was instrumental in the passage of the Children’s Health Insurance Program, which insured millions of American kids. Right?

As the first female major-party nominee for president, Hillary Clinton is a very important part of every American woman’s heritage. Eventually — hopefully in my lifetime — the United States will have a woman president who will thank her for paving her path in her election speech. Women and girls could walk past the statue every day and be inspired. And, you know what they say: Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. So a Hillary statue is required to ensure the 2016 election never happens again. That’s how it works, right?

Just imagine the protests. Tiki torches everywhere. Wall-to-wall Fox News programming. Oh my goodness, the presidential tweetstorm. Oh, you want Hillary to go away? Sorry, she ain’t going anywhere! No, seriously. We would consider moving the statue, but the state legislature says we have to get this waiver from the Tennessee Historical Commission, and it’s kind of an ordeal. Plus, you know, it just wouldn’t be fair to move her statue when we have this other statue of a guy who lost whose supporters would not “get over it.” You’re absolutely right, it’s not the same. Hillary is an ambitious grandma who wanted to be president but used her personal email for work stuff. Nathan Bedford Forrest was a slave dealer, a traitor, and a war criminal. Now, about that waiver …

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and digital marketing strategist.

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Opinion The Last Word

Planning for Disaster

CREDIT: AFPPhotography | Dreamstime

My house has been burglarized twice since we moved in nine years ago. Both times, someone came home and foiled the would-be thieves, so all they stole was our time. The first time, a bike was left behind, resulting in a net gain for us. But I still felt violated. Home is supposed to be a safe place. Someone had entered that place without my permission. But, in his search for “stuff” — electronics, cash, jewelry, and weapons — he tossed aside and stepped over everything that was irreplaceable.

We cleaned up the mess, got a security system, and carried on with our lives.

Imagine that feeling of vulnerability and trespass multiplied by a thousand. Because a natural disaster is not so scrupulous. Trees fall where the wind directs them. Water doesn’t use your pillowcase as a trick-or-treat bag to fill with jewelry or stack your laptops and televisions at the door. Fire doesn’t seek out the stuff it can pawn, leaving your record collection and your kid’s kindergarten artwork untouched. Nature’s furies rush in, often without warning, taking everything right down to the drywall and leaving a pile of trash where all your stuff used to be.

Hurricane Harvey’s victims prepared the best they could, but the storm was stronger. Some grabbed what they could carry and hurried to dry shelter. Others were rescued by kind strangers in boats. They didn’t have enough medicine or food. They left their pets behind, praying that instincts and an open bag of kibble on the kitchen counter would be enough.

As I watched the destruction unfold on the news, all I could think about was the smell. As the water recedes, people will be able to return to their homes, to be greeted by a smell that will never leave. In New Orleans, it was a potion of mold and dust bonded by Lake Pontchartrain funk and late-August Gulf Coast humidity. I imagine it’s not much different in Houston; maybe swap rainwater for lakewater. They tell you to wear a respirator, the kind that looks like a gas mask. It doesn’t help. The stink implants itself in the follicles of your nostrils, so for the rest of your life the faintest whiff of mildew takes you right back to that place, that moment.

AFPPhotography | Dreamstime

Hurricane Harvey

Just a little souvenir from Mother Nature to remind you she’s not screwing around.

A “storm door” won’t keep her out but it’s so adorable that you tried. Water and air, elements we need to survive, can be used against us in cruel and spiteful ways.

Harvey, Katrina, Sandy, and others inevitably exposed infrastructural flaws that reveal our hubris and failure to plan for the worst-case scenario. How often do we hear “unprecedented” or “more than anticipated” in the context of these tragedies? The breach of the levees, not the hurricane, were the primary cause of damage in New Orleans. During Superstorm Sandy, flooding rendered New York City’s subways inoperable. One station just reopened this summer, five years later. When (not if) it comes time for the nation to #prayformemphis, how ready will we be?

Memphis isn’t a coastal city, so hurricane season brings little more than a few days’ worth of relentless downpours and wind. However, there is the matter of the New Madrid seismic zone, which apparently has remained quiet long enough for people to forget about it. In 1990, as an elementary schooler, I was reassured that despite what I’d heard, earthquakes were unpredictable and I would be going to school on December 3rd. Nothing puts a child’s mind at ease like explaining that the movement of tectonic plates can cause the ground to shake without warning, am I right? Mercifully, Iben Browning turned out to be a nutjob, but we still practiced cowering under our desks just in case.

Maybe I’m paranoid, but the fact remains: There is no “earthquake season.” Tornadoes can happen year-round too, as long as the conditions are right.

So as we offer our support to the people in Texas, it’s also a good time to take inventory. Do you know where you would go if you were forced to evacuate? Do you remember what you’re supposed to do during a tornado (hide in a bathtub) or an earthquake (drop, cover, and hold)? Do you know important phone numbers by heart? Where are your (and your children’s) birth certificate, social security card, passport, immigration papers, insurance cards? Do you have pet carriers? Do you know your neighbors? Because nature isn’t going to wait around while you get your stuff together, and these disasters of so-called “biblical proportions” seem to happen more and more frequently.

Jen Clarke is a digital marketing specialist and an unapologetic Memphian.

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Opinion The Last Word

Water World: The Coliseum Could be an Aquarium

Well, I lost my job. Before you roll your eyes and close your paper or your browser window, hear me out. This isn’t going to be one of those “millennial complaining about adulthood’s minor setbacks” columns. I’ve got some leads lined up and some freelance work in the pipeline, though I’m willing to listen if you’ve got something for me. I’ve adjusted my avocado toast budget. I’ll be fine. No, this is going to be a “millennial complaining about how the Mid-South Coliseum isn’t an aquarium” piece.

It seems so obvious. Of all the redevelopment plans that have been proposed for the Fairgrounds, I’m surprised something like an aquarium hasn’t seriously been considered. Unlike other ideas I’ve seen, an aquarium is something a diverse mix of residents and tourists can enjoy. I am not trying to claim this as an original or unique idea. But I did tweet the following in May 2016: “IDEA — Repurpose what can be salvaged of the Coliseum into an aquarium. Proximity to CMOM, Zoo, Pink Palace make it a perfect location.” It could get some public funding, grants, private donors, and stuff so it doesn’t require people to buy stuff to stay afloat.

David Miller | Dreamstime

Get it? Stay afloat? Hoo boy, I kill me. Anyway, I heard the city of Memphis is reopening the planning process for redeveloping the Fairgrounds, and I’ve had some time on my hands. So, between phone interviews and checking my email every 14 seconds, I’ve been gathering research and evidence to support my case. First, the Coliseum is just the right size, and it’s in a good location. At approximately 110,000 square feet, the existing building is comparable in size to facilities like the Aquarium of the Americas in New Orleans. With the surrounding acreage, there’s space to build on or expand later. Visitors from the suburbs, as well as tourists from Mississippi, Arkansas, and beyond could easily access it by I-240 via Airways, or take Hollywood from I-40.

Families could spend a summer morning playing at the Children’s Museum followed by an afternoon of deep sea exploration. The Pink Palace and its CTI Giant Theater are just down the road. Football fans in town for the Liberty Bowl and Southern Heritage Classic could add another activity to their itineraries that amplifies and disperses the events’ economic impact. It would bring revenue to local businesses in the surrounding neighborhoods year-round. In 2016, the Tennessee Aquarium’s 745,000 visitors generated $72.2 million for Chattanooga businesses. Those are some pretty big numbers. ”But what about parking?” some will ask, as they always do. Well, there are enough spaces to accommodate 60-something thousand people at the football stadium, plus street parking in the surrounding neighborhoods. The Tigers play six or seven home games a year. This season’s schedule so far includes only one 11 a.m. kickoff. If one of the Liberty Bowl’s tenants are hosting an event that might complicate parking, here’s an idea: Take the bus. Catch a Lyft. Or go some other time. The fish aren’t going anywhere.

Moving the aquarium animals to another campus would give the zoo room to grow without encroaching further on the park. Guests could purchase a day pass that includes admission to both attractions and a shuttle ride from the ample spaces at the Fairgrounds. The Greensward could return to its original and best use as a refuge for picnickers, frisbee throwers, and stoned teens.

Most importantly, think of all the kids in Memphis who have only seen fish that were fried and served with hushpuppies and slaw. They deserve field trips as cool as the ones my generation enjoyed — back in the good old days when the Wonders exhibit brought Napoleon’s carriage and Catherine the Great’s jewels to town every year. And if that’s not convincing enough, I’d like to offer one final, irresistibly petty argument: Nashville doesn’t have an aquarium.

One small concern might be finding a way to pay for such an ambitious project. I acknowledge there are some logistical details to work out. But big dreams call for big ideas, and I’m happy to help in any way I can (as I mentioned, I have some time). I’m confident that this idea can reach the right people, who will see the myriad ways in which the city would benefit. And the Timberlake Family Aquarium or the FedEx Grizzlies Servicemaster Center for Aquatic Research will one day become one of Memphis’ signature attractions.

Jen Clarke is a digital marketing specialist and an unapologetic Memphian.

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Opinion The Last Word

Farewell, Grit ’n Grind

My early NBA memories from FedExForum are hazy. I remember a late-season game in 2005 against the Spurs, who were supposed to be “resting.” The Grizzlies ultimately won despite the persistence of Manu Ginobili, back when he had hair. Since then I’ve groaned “Ugggh, this friggin’ guy” every time our teams meet — which is too frequently, if you ask me.

I saw Yao Ming vomit on the baseline once, and I’m pretty sure he stayed in the game. Among vague recollections of J-Will passes and Mike Miller threes are visions of Pau Gasol checking his nose for blood. Thanks to a holiday ticket promotion during the lowest point of the Iavaroni era, I sat courtside when Chris Paul’s Hornets came to town. The thing I remember most about that game was my husband’s ruthless heckling of Peja Stojaković’s shoes, which were still prettier than the home team’s defense.

Either I picked the worst games to attend, or the Forum was a different place before it became the Grindhouse. (Pretty sure it’s the latter.) The memories start to crystallize around the time Zach Randolph arrived: The first home game of the 2009 season felt more like the beginning of a crazy experiment than a basketball game. I felt dizzy in the top row, growl towel aloft, that April afternoon in 2011 when the Grizzlies shocked the Spurs and everyone else who assumed they were just happy to be there. I can tell you where I was sitting and what I was wearing that Friday night in 2013 as we jingled our keys at that former Hornets star who had become a pesky, detested Los Angeles Flopper. At the risk of revising history, it wasn’t always sunshine. But every season, at least, felt like a chapter in a story.

Zach Randolph, the basketball player, made the Grizzlies relevant. Then Tony Allen, the basketball player, made them fun. Together, as people, they made them relatable. We knew in our minds a day would come when Memphis, the community, would need them as people more than the Grizzlies needed them as players on the court. We knew one day they’d decide their bodies had given enough to the grind of training camps and ice baths, media avails, and six months on the road. We hoped in our hearts the dates would align. It’s more than basketball, until it’s only basketball, and you realize you’ve invested too much emotional capital in some dudes who chase a ball around. They tried to prepare us, but some data is just too painful to take. Such is life in a one-sport town.

Tony Allen and Zach Randolph

Zach Randolph and Tony Allen are beloved by Memphians for a lot of reasons — their “blue collar player” and “all heart, grit, grind” philosophies are engraved in the team’s mythology. But more than anything, to me they embody the fundamental contradictions the city represents. Tough but generous. Proud but flawed and extremely misunderstood. Stubborn and a little anachronistic. They “get it” because they lived it.

Like most of my friends who move away, Z-Bo just got a better job offer out of town. He still loves Memphis so deeply that a rumor he’d covered the city’s outstanding utility bills on his way out of town was completely believable. Sometimes business is business, though. That’s another one of the city’s contradictions, sadly — we love you, but we just can’t, y’know, pay you. Loyalty is priceless but damn, $24 million for two years’ work is impossible to turn down.

For at least three years, national sportswriters have warned the end of “grit and grind” was approaching. Slowly suffocating opposing teams with defense was no longer a sustainable strategy in “today’s NBA,” they said. The eulogies began as soon as Tony Allen cryptically deleted “currently grinding for the Memphis Grizzlies” from his Twitter profile. Maybe “#GnG” is over, if the term is shorthand for an era, like the Bad Boy Pistons or Showtime Lakers. But just because the most beloved player is wearing a different jersey and the Grindfather is more like a forefather doesn’t mean the Memphis Grizzlies’ best days are behind them. Mike Conley’s annual All-Star snubs will continue. The games won’t be nationally televised, and when they are, everyone’s names will be mispronounced. As long as they can continue to weaponize underdogism, small-market disrespect, and our paradoxical need to prove outsiders wrong despite claiming not to care, the culture lives on.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and a digital marketing specialist.

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Opinion The Last Word

Puck, Yes?

CREDIT: Reuters | USA Today Sports

I’d like to extend hearty congratulations to our friends in Nashville for the accomplishments of their professional hockey team. Even without a championship trophy, for the lowest-seeded team to defy probability and conventional wisdom is worth celebrating. I watched more of the Comey hearing than the NHL Playoffs, but I hear it was a hell of a run. Of course, there’s nothing as satisfying as winning it all, but proving people wrong and upsetting the Understood Order of Things is pretty fun. It’s sustained us Grizzlies fans for a few years now.

Rallying a community behind a team is fun, too. There’s an electricity in the air that everyone can feel. It intoxicates even non-sports fans and turns them into diehards, if only for a few weeks. It takes an extra special kind of success to captivate a city in which ice is known more as something you put in your sweet tea than a surface for skating.

It’s impressive. I suspect it’s also the reason Predators mania hasn’t exactly set Memphis ablaze. The only thing setting this city ablaze is the oppressive heat, and the fact that “winter” sports are still being played in this hemisphere in June feels like a slap in the face. Or maybe that’s just the humidity. I’m sure lots of Memphians rooted for the Predators, but there weren’t enough for Memphis to crack the top 10 TV markets for any of the Stanley Cup final games. Memphis has, however, consistently ranked in the top 10 for NBA Finals viewership. Even during the massive power outage. The Grizzlies’ season ended nearly two months ago.

Two years ago, I wrote that it was time to stop comparing Memphis and Nashville. The unique experiences of a Grizzlies game versus a Predators game neatly illustrate the cities’ different personalities and how they don’t always make sense to each other. Take, for example, the tradition of throwing catfish onto the ice. How do the fish enter the arena? Does security look the other way, or do fans smuggle the seafood in their pants and purses? If the latter, how does one — you know what, nevermind. I don’t need to know.

Reuters | USA Today Sports

Catfish on ice

From country singers and catfish to wrasslin’ and “Whoop That Trick,” our sports traditions are, like our general civic vibes, different. Yet the question keeps popping up: Why doesn’t Memphis support the Predators?

Uh, why should we? Because we’re in the same state? What if we don’t know a single thing about hockey because we live in Tennessee, specifically the part of Tennessee where Ball Is Life?

Instead of pinning Memphis’ perceived disinterest to hatred or jealousy of Nashville’s success, remember that many of us did set aside our saltiness to root for the Titans in the Super Bowl back in the year 2000, long before Nashville became Smashville. And then consider that this is a city that shuts down at the mere threat of snow. Last year an ice skating rink closed because of winter weather. So excuse us if we’re a little slow to hop on the honky tonk Zamboni. After all, this is the South. Like a lot of things in Nashville (for better or worse), hockey is a transplant. Just as the first generation of “lifelong” Memphis Grizzlies fans is coming of age, hockey’s legacy in Nashville is still taking root. Give it time.

Maybe someday instead of a Grizzlies/Predators cross-promotion concocted by their cable broadcast station, “Team Tennessee” will represent a shared attitude between the two biggest cities in the state. The pettiness is fun, but there are bigger fish to throw. Like the jock and the nerd in a high school movie, it’s time for Memphis and Nashville to discover the only way they can outwit the principal is by setting aside their differences and working together.

I’m not sure which city plays each role in this metaphor, but the upcoming statewide election is one example of an opportunity to team up and save the school. Governor Haslam isn’t eligible for a third term. It’s early yet, but four people have declared their candidacy. One is Mae Beavers, whom you may recall as the author of the anti-porn resolution and assorted other terrible bills. We don’t have to love each other’s sports teams, and we soon won’t even have to share an IKEA anymore. But can we at least join forces to ensure Tennessee won’t be run by a bunch of monsters? That seems like a good start.

Jen Clarke is an unabashed Memphian and a digital marketing strategist.

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Opinion The Last Word

Promenade Stand

CREDIT: Georgios Kollidas | Dreamstime.com

Last week, Friends for Our Riverfront indicated its intention to fight the development of a new convention center hotel downtown, citing its location on land allocated by city cofounder John Overton as a public promenade.

Seeing only “public promenade,” my reflex was to be outraged. Are we really going to start this up again, as Riverfront Funtime Season cranks up? Good grief. I remember the battle between the FfOR and the Riverfront Development Corporation over the promenade in 2004 that resulted in the Cossitt Library, the fire station, and the hideous parking garage at the corner of Front and Monroe being “saved.”

I saw both sides, but ultimately, an ugly fire station is still useful. Though the riverwalk doesn’t connect to the promenade because of the aforementioned buildings, the path along the bluffs and network of little parks is well utilized. Some of the city’s best views originate along the riverwalk, where I spend many evenings jogging off workday stress. The proposed high-rises might have altered or even obstructed those views. This is different, though. A little history: In 1818, Andrew Jackson, in his post-War of 1812, pre-Trail of Tears era, negotiated a land deal with the Chickasaw tribe. For $300,000 (equivalent to about $5.5 million today) he and Isaac Shelby “convinced” the Chickasaw to relinquish their claim to west Tennessee and southwestern Kentucky to the United States. This was known as the Jackson Purchase. The next year, Jackson and two of his friends, James Winchester and John Overton, went in on a city together. That means we’ve got a big birthday coming up: May 22, 2019. Next time I feel like a screw-up, I’ll remind myself Memphis is 200 years old and still doesn’t have its life in order. The city’s original survey had a public landing, four public squares — Auction, Exchange, Court, and Market — and a public promenade between the Chickasaw Bluff, what is now Front Street, Jackson, and Union.

Georgios Kollidas | Dreamstime.com

Andrew Jackson

An argument can be made for protecting the city’s original public spaces, until you realize the space in question is the derelict Mud Island parking deck currently occupying the land at Front and Poplar. Last year, Denver developer Bob Swerdling proposed the location for a new convention center hotel. For now, while Swerdling arranges private financing, the hotel is just an idea. Others are reported to have inquired about submitting plans, prompting the city to issue a request for qualifications (RFQ) for “consulting services including analysis of a proposed additional convention center hotel in downtown Memphis, and the feasibility of such a hotel being successful.” The 16-page document is available at memphistn.gov.

Y’all almost got me all fired up to save a parking lot.

Mud Island is in disrepair and the north end of downtown is practically a ghost town, but I guess John Overton was just that passionate about preserving the view of the tangle of interstate ramps over the river that leads to West Memphis and beyond. Now, street lighting near the convention center is inadequate after dusk. Cars speeding off the I-40 ramp and poor visibility at garage exits create pedestrian hazards. If that’s a “promenade,” either Overton’s vision was lost a long time ago, or I don’t understand the definition of the word.

Though Winchester’s son, Marcus, was the city’s first mayor, none of the three founders lived in Memphis. Jackson, as anyone who spent their K-12 years in Tennessee can tell you, grew his fortune in cotton at The Hermitage. Overton, the Nashvillian who wrote the 1828 document outlining the promenade’s parameters, was said to have owned more than 65,000 acres of land. The fact that Memphis was home to one of the country’s biggest slave markets is not a coincidence. The city was founded so rich landowners could use the area’s resources — cotton and the river — to get even richer.

So forgive me if I’m unmoved by the notion that 200 years later, their wishes should dictate the economic future of the city, particularly if they involve preserving that space in its ugly and dangerous state. I don’t know how anyone who has seen the Convention Center in its current condition can dispute the need for an overhaul. Maintaining the city’s character and ensuring citizens come first are essential, and there are valid reasons to be concerned about a massive project. This time, opponents will need a better reason than the promenade.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphis and a digital marketing specialist.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Riding Shotgun on Politics

Something magical happened in our federal government last week. Huffington Post said it “will make you believe in politics again.” Time called it “The Future of Bipartisanship.”

The story got national coverage, but it might have been overshadowed. It easily could have been buried under some unfounded wiretapping allegations, defunded meals for homebound seniors, or the threat of nuclear war with North Korea. Every day is a new adventure, after all. Last Tuesday, while America was waiting for Rachel Maddow to freakin’ hurry up with the tax returns before the popcorn runs out, two congressmen from Texas did something Democrats and Republicans just don’t do anymore.

They rode in a car together.

When their flights to Washington were canceled, El Paso Democrat Beto O’Rourke and San Antonio Republican Will Hurd rented a Chevy Impala and hit the road for a “Congressional Cannonball Run.” The pair streamed the trip on Facebook Live and Periscope, answering constituents’ questions and taking song requests. They ordered drive-thru Whataburger. They spent the night in Tennessee’s beautiful Ninth District and stopped at a fine donut establishment called Gibson’s. They were greeted with Texas flags when they arrived at the Capitol, just in time to vote. Later they co-sponsored each other’s bills and even exchanged gifts! Gifts! Between a Republican and a Democrat! Can you believe it?

During the 1,600-mile drive, they “came to some common ground,” O’Rourke told NPR. After bonding over their shared love of velociraptors and John Stamos, they turned to each other and asked, “Did we just become best friends?” Hold on, maybe that was Step Brothers. But you do have to admit this sounds an awful lot like a buddy comedy.

You’re allowed to roll your eyes if, like many of us, you’ve survived a work trip with someone you hated. But this is where we are now. Is it comforting to know that, in these polarizing times, two men from opposing parties can set aside their differences long enough to enjoy a nice long drive? Or is it depressing that elected officials have to be stuck in a Chevy Impala together for 30 hours to prove they can agree on things? No matter where your politics lie, I think we can all agree this is an opportunity for some fun #democracy #content.

Imagine if the boring old presidential debate format — the podiums, the goofy backdrop, the moderators — were replaced by a cross-country road trip. “Uber Presents: The 2020 Constituent Carpool Presented by Facebook.” Candidates would drive together from California to Maine, along the way picking up constituents with questions. Viewers at home could submit questions via Facebook Live. Not only would we learn more about candidates’ policy ideas, we’d find out things that really tell you what you need to know, like what music they listen to and who drives like a jerk. Bernie Sanders seems like a guy who would stay in the left lane the entire time. Ted Cruz definitely wouldn’t use turn signals. He would probably hog the stereo, too. “Driver’s choice!” And then, when he’s riding shotgun: “Focus on the road! I’ll man the tunes!”

A road trip would really spice up confirmation hearings. Load some senators into an SUV, and watch democracy work. “Well, Betsy DeVos did bring some pretty good snacks. However … her answers proved that she doesn’t know anything about education. Also she doesn’t know the words to ’99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall,’ and that’s the real dealbreaker.” Jeff Sessions and Al Franken in a car together. Think about it.

C-SPAN could expand its programming and appeal to a broader audience with a new game show, Don’t Make Me Turn This Car Around. It’s like Cash Cab but with legislators. “After the break, the final question. Will Mitch McConnell and Elizabeth Warren split the grand prize? Or will they … turn this car around?” Spoiler alert: They turn the car around because Mitch won’t answer the question until the people have their say.

The politicians-in-cars concept could pick up speed locally, too. Surely Nashville has enough pedal taverns to accommodate the entire Tennessee legislature, though Mae Beavers would certainly object. County commissioners could bond in the early morning mess on I-40. Maybe the school board can meet in a school bus. Who wouldn’t want to see two City Council members ride a tandem bike across the Big River Crossing?

Forget reaching across the aisle. America, it’s time to reach for the wheel.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and a digital marketing strategist.

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Opinion The Last Word

Busy Beavers

Well, friends, Tennessee’s 110th General Assembly is in full swing, and one thing has become very clear to me: Beavers must be stopped.

All 33 senators and 98 representatives have been busy. They’ve cranked out hundreds of bills. Many are beneficial, like SB 0416, which exempts diapers from taxation. Others seem harmless enough, like SB 0418, which requires big-game hunters to wear 25 more square inches of orange. Some are head-scratchers, like SB 0172, which clarifies the definition of a rickshaw. Maybe that’s the new Nashville bachelorette party transportation? There are a few eye-rollers, like HB 0026, which “requires all license plates to bear the language ‘In God We Trust’.” Talk about tackling the important issues.

Aside from her resolutions (yes, plural) targeting pornography as a public health hazard and the hilarious headlines that ensued, I was unfamiliar with Senator Mae Beavers’ work. But she has worked hard to make herself known by sponsoring and co-sponsoring a flurry of bills ranging from unnecessary to discriminatory to dangerous and brazenly unconstitutional. I have no doubt they represent the values of her constituents in Mt. Juliet, but … hoo boy. Where to begin.

Mae Beavers and a constituent

Remember the “bathroom bill” from last year? It proposed transgender students use the facilities corresponding with their birth genders. For privacy and safety reasons, they said. It would have cost the state $1.5 billion in Title IX funding and resulted in millions in lost revenue. The sponsor, Representative Susan Lynn, withdrew the bill because she wanted to study the issue further. Well, North Carolina’s version, HB2, resulted in severe economic losses including the relocation of the NBA All-Star Game from Charlotte. It cost their governor his job. It’s currently being repealed. One could say it didn’t do so hot. That didn’t stop Beavers from bringing it back. Speaking of “bringing it back,” Beavers wants to roll back the LGBT community’s right to marriage with SB 0752, which “states the policy of Tennessee to defend natural marriage between one man and one woman regardless of any court decision to the contrary.” Hear that, Supreme Court? Your decisions mean nothing to Mae Beavers. The full text of the bill cites Dred Scott (with a full-page explainer of the Fugitive Slave Act), Alito and Scalia’s Obergefell dissents, John Locke, and “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.” It’s a lot to unpack. Also, it’s unconstitutional.

SB 0645 takes a tough stand on voter fraud, requiring courts to fine offenders $5,000 in addition to any existing penalty. It offers a $5,000 reward for information leading to a conviction for voter fraud. Problem is, of the 42 potential cases the state of Tennessee investigated in the most recent election, one resulted in a conviction.

SB 0272 “requires the department of safety to print the language ‘NON U.S. CITIZEN’ or ‘ALIEN’ on the driver licenses, permits, or other forms of identification issued or renewed for a temporary period to persons who are not United States citizens and not lawful permanent residents of the United States.” That would help with the voter fraud thing, if it existed. Gee, it’s almost as if Beavers is angling for attention from someone who took a huge loss in a popular vote and has some job openings available. Can’t knock the hustle, I suppose.

Senator Beavers really wants us to be armed, by the way. SB 0147 proposes open carry without a permit. SB 0145 provides a background check loophole by allowing firearms dealers to sell weapons from their personal collections. There’s a Second Amendment Sales Tax Holiday proposed for the first weekend of September, too, if you feel like stocking up.

Anybody got “BINGO” yet? I haven’t even gotten to the anti-abortion stuff.

SB 0244 prohibits abortions from the point a fetal heartbeat is detected, which typically occurs at five or six weeks — before many women even are aware they’re pregnant. And just because a heartbeat is detected doesn’t mean the fetus is viable. Don’t worry though, Beavers fans. If SB 0244 gets struck down due to pesky science, she sponsored another bill prohibiting abortions after 20 weeks, except to preserve the life and health of the mother. There’s also the “Sanctity of Human Life Act,” SB 0754, that “declares that human life begins with fertilization, cloning, or its functional equivalent.” Bad news. Yes, I’m afraid it’s science again. Something tells me the senator is unconcerned, though.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and a digital marketing specialist.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Forward, March

CREDIT: Justin Fox Burks

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I arrived downtown Saturday morning. I had some reservations but decided to attend the march at the last second. I didn’t even make a sign. If I had, it would have said something like “Oh, FFS.” Or “Meryl Streep Is Properly Rated.” Or “Make America Read Again.” There’s always next time. Believe me, there will be a next time.

It wasn’t my first rally or protest, but it was definitely the biggest. I don’t think I’ve ever been part of such a large group of women before. But if it was truly a “woman’s march,” the crowd should have been much larger. I say this because it was about as diverse as an East Memphis yoga class.

People get defensive when this is brought up, and I don’t mean to sound dismissive. Yes, people of varying ages, races, and genders showed up. I’m proud of the thousands of marchers who gave their time to stand up for women.

It was a good first step. The next step is intersectionality.

As I was leaving, I overheard a conversation between two black women.

“This was good. I needed this.”

“Me too, but I wish I’d seen this many people out for MLK Day.”

“Yeah … Wonder why that is?”

This is where I wanted to butt in and say “Because racism,” but I am pretty sure it was a rhetorical question. As King wrote, the white moderate “prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.”

I feel bad if women of color didn’t feel welcome or included in last Saturday’s march, but I can’t exactly blame them.

Justin Fox Burks

Women’s March in Memphis

Justin Fox Burks

Why should they trust white women who keep siding with white men? Fifty-two percent of us voted for a candidate who openly boasted about “grabbing them by the pussy” without their consent. Four years prior, more than half of us voted for a guy who counted women by the binder-full in a debate. Too many white women either don’t vote with their own interests at heart or are counting on everyone else to get it right. Now we’ve got a mess to clean up.

The day after the march, I attended a friend’s birthday brunch. I didn’t know everyone at the table, which is always a bit of a social landmine for me because I have no poker face. Here’s what happens: Someone says something with which I disagree. I am physically unable to supress an eyeroll. People I know either engage me or move along. People who don’t ask if there’s something I’d like to say. Cue rant, followed by debate or awkward silence.

We were talking about safe topics like football (well, not safe in the literal sense, but you know what I mean) and work. Everything was fine. And then a woman at the other end of the table said “So, like, these — air quotes — marches. What are they protesting exactly?”

That’s when the room started spinning and everything went dark. All was silent but for the echo of her voice. What are they protesting? Really? And what’s with the air quotes?

I should have told her people protested for Black Lives Matter, gun control, criminal justice reform, and a whole slew of issues that are important to them. I should have told her I can’t speak for anyone else, but here are a handful of the reasons I went:

Because the new president needs to be reminded at every turn that he is accountable to the entire country, not just the people who voted for him.

Because the Affordable Care Act insures millions of people, and if the GOP has a better idea, well, what’s the holdup?

And if we can’t have health insurance for all, we need Planned Parenthood more, not less.

Because our bodies belong to us, and we’re smart enough to make choices for ourselves. We want to be able to start our families on our own terms with affordable reproductive care and child care.

Because Idiocracy wasn’t supposed to be a documentary.

Because democracy doesn’t end the day after the election. Or the inauguration. You don’t have to agree, but this is how I feel. And this is America, and it’s our right.

But I didn’t want to ruin my friend’s brunch, so I bit my tongue and stared at my plate. Yes, that’s right. In less than 24 hours I went from “We won’t be silenced” to “I don’t want to make it weird.”

That approach won’t work anymore.