Forever a Lady? Was she Ever One?

She’s a metaphor, a symbol. A representation of what is right and honest. She’s historic, she’s iconic. She’s global in both her influence and use. A sword of authority in her right to act swiftly and with finality. A balance in her left to weigh truth against error; facts against fiction. Some render her blindfolded. Others see her blindfold as redundant, as her maidenly form should suffice for her impartiality. Her tunic, yes, her tunic expresses the philosophic, historic and reverent stature of her office.

But is #LadyJustice no longer a lady? Or was she ever one? She who was once considered iconic, classy, enviable and desirable is now bare to the world as slutty, muddy, and money hungry, who prostitutes herself to the highest bidder. Was she ever who we were told she was or was it simply a farce, a ruse, a trick; an act of cunning.

Was the lady ever a lady? Did she jump from bed to bed, choosing only the powerful to spread her legs? Is her tunic really a shroud? Is her sword a weapon of the proud? Is her balance false? Is her integrity lost? Or did she ever have any? Was lady justice a monument for the masquerade? Did she deceive the world?

America, once considered a beacon, but really she hid her beatings. She hid her inglorious history. She hid her prostitution. She rewrote the past in favor of her class. While the privileged looted her coffers, she boasted her sacred offers. Mishandling both God and man. Writing history to favor ideals while hiding massive hands who steal and rob and kill.

The quiet racists of the #North joined hands with the loud racists of the #South and seduced lady justice upon the couch. Upon the couch of slavery; upon the couch of plantations; upon the couch of battle fields. She was willingly seduced in boardrooms, court rooms and church sanctuaries. Oh, Lady liberty wasn’t a virgin to this seduction. As a teen she was abducted to this life that began in #1619.

And now we stand. At the altar of public opinion. At the sacred desk of human appealing. Appealing to lady justice hoping a shred of decency remains. Believing there is a God that can address this stain. This stain of bitterness, sadness and pain. Rachel weeping for her children that are no more. Praying that lady justice isn’t rotten to her core. Cities burning, families hurting, neighbors quiet and society can’t take much more.

Lady justice, if you were ever a lady. If you are more than a metaphor. If this country isn’t to be ripped apart at its core. It’s time to appeal to the God who redeems, to atone for your wounded soul that has ignored so many brown brothers who simply said #ICANTBREATHE.

© 2020 Marcus D. Benjamin. All Rights Reserved