E2: Dear Mrs. White Lady, Might I Have a Word?

Part two in a series

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Dear Mrs. White Lady,

After Donald Trump’s inauguration today you might wonder what this means for all us White Ladies out here. And since I pulled the short straw, it falls to me to tell you that we have what I would call, a situation.

Remember last year when Donald said he was gonna protect Suburban White Ladies everywhere, whether we liked it or not, lol? Well, we can bank on it now; the like “it or not” part I mean.

I fully expect the Supreme Court will announce soon that birth control is not a product we Ladies can safely partake in.

The thing is, it won’t matter if you take it for painful periods, endometriosis or ovarian cysts. It won’t matter if you take it to clear up acne or if you’re a woman of a certain age taking hormones for perimenopause. It simply won’t matter.

That’s the thing about unintended consequences. We live with them.

After this, SCOTUS will hear more cases and hand down more rulings engineered for our own protection, of course. (No word yet on how this will affect men blue-pilling it in the bedroom.)

I’d like to say I’m too old for this. And I am. But some forward-looking measures are needed. They may sound rash. Even dramatic. But hear me.

With unflinching determination, we have to prepare an arsenal for the next 90 days as though we’re soldiers preparing for the inevitable fight.

No. 1.—Stockpile all the birth control you can lay hands on. I’m talking Pills. Condoms. The works. Because this part of our private life is going the way of the dodo.

I’m just thinking here—but in addition to hiding our obsession with true crime and that receipt for a $300 Williams Sonoma vintage-style stand-up bread mixer we just couldn’t live without, we’re gonna want to hide this too.

No. 2.—While you still can, secret away a stash of morning after pills.

Someone we know will be assaulted, molested or date-raped. It’s a fact of life.

Our little girls, college-aged daughters, granddaughters, nieces and neighbors need us now.

No 3.—Pull your girls out of all Sports, Gymnastics, Tumbling, Theater and Dance programs. Why? Because they will be subjected to genitalia checks by coaches, teachers, administrators, unscrupulous parents and creeps.

Unfortunately, the pending umbrella of Protect-the-Girls-in-Sports-Laws aren’t just about bathrooms and changing areas. No, no, no. Under the guise of keeping things fair, these laws will allow anyone to legally challenge the sex of our girls. Girls as young as 4.

What happens when a parent gets jealous because your girl performs at a higher level than her peers? Gets more playing time, more trophies, or more attention than their own kid? I’ll tell you. She will be the one singled out for this vulgar examination. And it would gut her. Of her dignity, her innocence and her confidence. And it should gut us too.

Enough said. Moving on.

No.4.—Do you plan to vote in the next election? Well, I sure hope the name on your birth certificate matches the name on your gov’t ID. Otherwise, you’re SOL.

Here’s the thing. The new law says the name on your ID has to match the name on your birth certificate. (Yeah, Married Ladies and Senator Raphael Edward Cruz I’m talking to you.)

So, Mrs. White Lady, are you going to petition the courts to legally change your name back to your maiden name? I can only imagine that awkward conversation over dinner.

I’m betting most of us won’t bother. Between the legal paperwork, the expense and the shit we’d take from families, we just won’t do it.

It’s not like they’re coming to take our vote from us, right? Technically, we’d still have the right to vote. But they’ll come at us so hard, we’ll cave.

BTW, if you supported Voter ID in the last election, you voted for this too.

As an aside—and not that this affects you directly—but it should bother you Mrs. White Lady—that the new law coincidentally excludes Native Americans from using their Tribal IDs to vote. (Google the SAVE Act if you don’t believe me.)

And what of our newly minted Vice President you may ask?

The Heartland’s own J.D. Vance—not his real name—has his own smokehouse version of paternalism in store for us.

Yes, J.D. believes the courts should not allow women to divorce their husbands just because.

Yes. You heard me right. He plans to stop women from leaving their marriages by changing the laws on the books pertaining to grounds for divorce. This means that No Fault Divorce will cease to be.

No. 5.—If your marriage is just not working out—separate now before the laws change.

What about a bad marriage? What about violence?

Our V.P. has some thoughts on this too. J.D. says you should stay firm and stick it out. His thinking is, his own mother did and so should you.

No. 6.—If you are in a coercive relationship or marriage, get a plan in place now to get out. Money. A safe place to go + a few backups. A “go bag.” Transportation. Uber. A plan for the children’s safety and schooling. A plan for Duke, Fluffy or Ralph, because dogs, cats, and rabbits are vulnerable too.

And if you do decide to leave, it just gets worse and worse.

Say you pack up with the kids in tow, guess what? Parental kidnapping charges are entirely possible. That’s a felony. You can also be sued for abandonment. And custody hearings will take on a sinister turn as (R.) Judges reverse their ideas about the best interests of the child.

No. 7.—And for heavens sake, buy a decent cookbook—and do it now. Because once they start rounding up immigrants (this week it’s Chicago), you can forget about enjoying a meal out or picking up takeout on the way home.

Don’t believe me? Pop your head in the kitchen at your favorite spot. You won’t need stats from the Association of Restaurants to see what the industry already knows:

a.) immigrants make up more than 22% of employees in the front and back of house, including owners and chefs; and

b.) 12% of the people who wait on you, prepare your food, tend the bar, sweep the floor and wash the dishes are undocumented. The numbers are likely much higher because, um… well… you know… they’re “undocumented.”

Talk soon,

-m.

P.S. Oh. The cookbook. I almost forgot. For an all around solid pick, I’d recommend Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything in paperback. (It’s three inches thick and the hardcopy is unwieldy).

The Dear Mrs. White Lady series can be found on A Smart Substack with Maria Lachapelle and on Spotify.

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