She Was A Hell Raiser, Not a Humanitarian

Be Like Mother Jones

I’m not a humanitarian. I’m a hell raiser. ~Mother Jones

Pray for the dead. Fight like hell for the living. ~Mother Jones.

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We’re living through historic times. As we’re wading through the weight of every day, it’s easy to dismiss our ability to change the world around us. But, especially now, I think it’s important to remind ourselves of our potential energy. Our potential power.

We can also use a dose of inspiration.

So forgive me for telling and old story – one about a woman who should have been powerless, but ended up striking fear into the hearts of the American oligarchy.

In the 1890s this elderly Irish immigrant widow – a person who couldn’t even vote – was branded the “most dangerous woman in America.” She took the United Mine Workers of America from 10,000 members to over 300,000. But she didn’t start out as an organizer.

Mary Harris was born in 1837 in Cork, Ireland. Her childhood was shaped by the Potato Famine that forced the immigration of her family to Canada, where she ultimately trained to be both a teacher and a dressmaker.

By 30, she was living in Tennessee with four children and a husband and, seemingly, a regular enough life.

One fever changed all of that.

When yellow fever struck Memphis, the wealthy fled the city. But regular families and workers like her husband, who was a union iron molder, had no escape. In what must have been a truly horrifying experience, her husband and all four of her children died.

Some biographies simply state that tragic information and move on.

But let’s linger on that a while. Imagine being a 30 year old woman in the 1860s – watching helplessly as your loved ones catch ill, then die, one after the other after the other after the other.

Until you lose all of them. Every last one.

To add to your personal grief, your legal and social identity is wrapped up in your role as a mother and wife. Your husband owned everything, of course. Your job is to care for him, and your home, and your babies.

Not only would you have lost all of the people that you love – but with them, you would have lost your status in society and as a person under the law.

To have endured such a defining personal tragedy and navigating what were, I’m sure, the significant legal and financial struggles that would have come with it without simply throwing in the towel shows just how tough this woman was.

She was freaking steel.

And she wasn’t done.

She moved to Chicago to rebuild her life – this time as a dressmaker. She opened her own shop and served some of the most well-heeled in Chicago society. And there she observed the extremes in income inequality firsthand.

She explained that as she sewed for her wealthy customers, she would look out the window to see “poor, shivering wretches, jobless and hungry, walking alongside the frozen lake front." The contrast between their condition and that of her employers was painful.

Equally painful was the indifference of her high-class customers: “My employers seemed neither to notice nor to care," she said.

Mother may have been content to continue working as a dressmaker for decades, but fate pushed her in a different direction: she lost everything when her shop burned down in the great Chicago Fire of 1871.

And that’s when her life took a completely different turn.

Now homeless, and jobless – with literally nothing to lose – she took off traveling across the country advocating for workers and workers’ rights. With a sharp tongue, fearless nature and a talent for street theater and public speaking, she criss-crossed America advocating tirelessly for better hours, wages and working conditions for America’s working class. She testified once in the Senate that her address was like her shoes – it traveled with her. “I abide where there is a fight against wrong,” she said.

By the early 1900s, she had completely reinvented herself. At that point she was in her early 60s – a jobless, childless, Irish immigrant widow at the turn of the century. You really can’t imagine a more marginalized person.

But she had adopted a bit of a … persona.

She wore black antique dresses, and made herself look older than she was. She fudged her age – to make herself older – and punched up constantly. She lashed out at the powerful corporations and business titans and the government that enabled them. She railed against the Gilded Age American oligarchy and the systems that enabled it.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the powers that be.

She was banished from towns, arrested, held under house arrest – even charged with a capital offense. And yes, one U.S. district attorney called her the most dangerous woman in America.

I quite like that.

By all rights, she should have been powerless. Instead, she was one of the most powerful people in her generation. And it’s poetic that the title she’s known by – Mother – is the very role she was robbed of by circumstance and yellow fever.

She may have lost her own children, but she chose to be the mother for all of the forgotten.

Why am I telling you this (interesting but old) story?

Because it’s one of the best examples I know of a person who lived boldly and used her personal tragedy and setbacks and life experience as fuel – rather than as justification for giving up on herself. And in doing so, she made one hell of a difference in the world.

I thought you might need to hear that kind of story right now.

Because Mother Jones proves that you don’t need a fancy degree or an instruction manual to make a difference. You don’t need a consultant, or an advisor, or a coach to make your mark on this earth. You don’t need to be older, or younger, or more wealthy or more powerful.

Everyone has the power to be a Mother Jones. That includes you, friend.

So honor your fire. Respect your passion. Let it inspire you to live boldly, and stretch, and try things that get you excited and more than a little nervous – because that’s when you know you’re growing.

Own your spark. It’s more powerful than you know.

Let’s get to work.

Image credit: Mother Jones at Desk, Library of Congress

Actions for the Week of November 19, 2024

Here’s the part where – if you are so inclined – we roll up our sleeves and engage in what I like to call Action Therapy. Each Tuesday I share a few “small things” – usually a Small Thing to Read, a Small Event to Attend, and a Small Call to Make or Action to Take. You can tuck these actions into your week with ease – and know that you’re doing something today to make tomorrow better.

Small Event to Attend TONIGHT: Join Jessica Piper (and yours truly) to talk about how we’re fighting for a Blue Tennessee

Friends, join me and Jess Piper (rural Democrat and the Executive Director of Blue Missouri) tonight to talk with our Blue Tennessee community about where we go from here. Blue TN is an incredible grassroots community that crowdfunds for underfunded state legislative races, which are usually in the reddest parts of the state. We’re going to talk about how we meet this moment together. We hope you can join us. Register here.

Small Thing to Read: Indivisible’s Updated Guide

Okay, so it’s not really *small* in the conventional sense, but Indivisible has come out with a newly revised guide that is chock-full of extremely helpful advice, updated for the current environment. Read it here.

The main takeaway? You’re not powerless. But we do need to work together in order to be effective.

Small Action to Take (Option 1) California Ballot Cure Phonebank Tues-Thurs:

The fight for every last seat in House is not over. Thousands of voters in California need to take action to fix their ballot so it can be counted in their uncalled congressional race. The DCC is hosting phone banks to contact voters to cure their ballots from now through Thursday.

Register here: https://www.mobilize.us/dccc/event/742433/

Small Action to Take (Option 2): Call Your Senators: Fight Recess Appointments

You’ve no doubt heard that Trump is hoping to install his clown car of cabinet members by pushing them through as what are called “recess appointments.” Basically, if the Senate is out of session Trump can appoint people to positions without the advice and consent of the Senate. That’s a really old rule that was put in place when you got to D.C. using a horse and buggy.

I’m a big fan of catching flies with honey, so my script is intended to point to the Senator’s power – and that Trump is trying to wrench it from her/him. Let’s think of ways to leverage that tension, shall we?

Script: Hi, my name is –– and I’m a constituent at [state, zip]. I’m concerned about this talk of recess appointments for Donald Trump’s choices for cabinet positions. That goes completely against the constitution and seems like an end run around the Senate and the accountability that it is supposed to provide. I would think Senator (name) would want to weigh in on the qualifications of people who are going to so directly impact her/his constituents. What is Senator (name)’s position on this issue?

Thanks for reading, friend – I’m glad to see you here! If you love what I do and you want to support it, consider becoming a paid subscriber. It really does mean a lot.