Thank You, RBG

It felt like I only stepped away from my phone for a mere moment, yet when I saw my lock screen, there was a flood of texts, calls and news notifications.

The one most etched into my photographic memory is the text from my father, received eleven minutes after he sent it: “RBG is dead.”

I think we can only understand this feeling when we are in it. It is that moment before panic or anxiety sets in where the air has been drained from the room and a bubble arises in the back of the throat, warmth congregates in the back.

Three words from my father; straight to the point and devastating.

Immediately, I opened a web browser and googled her name. Within milliseconds Google retrieved my sought after information: the NPR article announcing Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s passing.

There it was, on my screen. Not a text, not an Instagram story post or a Tweet. Nope, it was the cold, hard news. Nothing I could do could undo that news article. I just had to sit there and read it.

Immediately, it seemed as if my Instagram was overrun with posts about an incredible woman. Several of my connections wrote long, heartfelt letters to the deceased justice, while others added her portrait to their story with a small cluster of words.

So this was what it felt like.

I think back to when my father described John F. Kennedy’s death, and how his mother remained in a state of silence all day. He said there was a sense of mourning throughout the entire nation, as if there were some deep network of blood veins connecting the country as they mourned the same figure.

Whether you agreed with her or not, RBG was an incredible icon. While she championed gender equality in her career, she embodied many cultural norms that women were not yet accepted for. Marty Ginsberg cooked and she worked. She spent afternoons after work with her children and worked from home after they were put to bed. She was one of nine in her Harvard Law School class; the second woman to sit on the Supreme Court Bench.

And when it all came down to it, her work with the law upheld the principles she lived by. RBG championed women's rights, a behavior adapted into the popular slogan “I dissent,” as she often did.

As the day left us, thousands gathered at the Supreme Court in Washington, D.C. to lay flowers, cardboard signs, candles and more as symbols of their respect. Momentos of work laid strewn out on the street: quotes of hers written in chalk, newspaper clippings and photos. There it was: that one network of veins connecting all Americans.

There was a shared sense of mourning that day, and as we continue to mourn, I beg us to continue to remember her for the champion she was, and not the benchwarmer for her liberal replacement that we are counting on Joe Biden to bring.

Before you debate whether Mitch McConnell kicked himself in the foot in 2016 and rally for the next President to replace RBG, please honor her legacy and allow us to mourn. Not only was she on the Supreme Court, she was an icon for those whose rights must be fought for. Remember her as a hero before you remember her as a justice.