Another wonderful woman has been sacrificed on the unkind altar of cancer. Molly Ivins, a political columnist and passionate writer, died last month after advancing to Round Three against breast cancer. She was 62. Again we are left to ask, as we do when any woman dies in spite of fighting the good fight, "Why her?" We get no answer. Cancer is capricious and cruel. It is insidious and invasive. It is unfair, and yet it is an equal-opportunity killer.

There but for the grace of God goes any one of us, and we wish that breast cancer would be eradicated once and for all, that so many women we know and love did not have to die because of a cellular disaster in a womanly gland. Our breasts identify us as women, but they can also betray us.

We women all look to other women in our lives whom we admire, who challenge us to be the best that we can, who exemplify the power and beauty of being a woman. Sometimes we are fortunate to know them, and sometimes we emulate them from afar. The December 2006 issue of The Atlantic Monthly listed only 10 women among its "100 Most Influential Americans of All Time," the top woman, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, not showing up until number 30. The 100 were chosen by a panel of 10 experts, which included three women, who obviously decided that through the centuries, women have mostly not been the visible movers and shakers of society.

But our personal lists of influential people in our lives would surely include a higher percentage of women, starting with our mothers. There are plenty of women whom I am blessed to have in my life as mentors and role models and friends, and for whom I am grateful. I am lucky in my long list. Molly Ivins was one of the women I did not know personally, but whom I have long esteemed. She was also the kind of writer who was so accessible that, once you read her work, you felt as if you knew her. She was a plain-spoken everywoman, but much smarter and funnier than the rest of us.

With a syndicated column that appeared in about 350 newspapers around the country, and with six published books, Molly Ivins was a well-known voice in American political commentary. She was fiercely and unapologetically liberal, and wrote from the point of view of a long-suffering but loyal Texan. She was an early critic of our current president, dating back to even before his tenure as the governor of Texas. Her style was down-home and dead-on, skewering and scathing, rueful and radical, sometimes all in the same sentence.

Anyone who writes any kind of an opinion column knows that there are going to be folks who disagree vehemently with your writing, and who will not be shy about letting you know exactly what they think of you and what you can do with your prose.

After awhile, you develop a thickened writer's skin, but no matter how hard you try, it remains a semi-permeable membrane. You remember one negative swipe at your efforts for every 10 positive pats on the back. In the war of words, there are days when you can feel mighty embattled. Yet you write on, hoping that your words will resonate with some reader somewhere, and that your writing will be solid and true.

Plenty of people disagreed with Molly Ivins on her positions, especially of late against the war in Iraq, and yet she was widely respected as a writer of talent and integrity, which is as high as any writer can aspire. She never backed down, as long as she felt that the truth needed to be told. Even President Bush, one of her most frequently hit targets, graciously issued a statement upon her death that recognized "her conviction, her passionate belief in the power of words, and her ability to turn a phrase ... Her quick wit and commitment to her beliefs will be missed." Of course, he did not mention by whom.

The last column that Molly Ivins wrote for publication has been extensively quoted since her death. She had been writing since the start of the war about "our Iraq misadventure," and popular opinion recently caught up with her. "We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders ... Raise hell," she wrote, with some urgency. Nearing death, she left us instructions for living. "Every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to stop this war." From beyond the grave, Molly Ivins continues to urge us, her fellow citizens, not only to say what we believe, but to live in a way that shows we really do believe what we say we believe. "Be the change you wish to see in the world," said Gandhi, which is a more elegant way of saying "Raise hell."

Molly Ivins wrote about her cancer treatments in her usual frank, funny, and facade-less style, "First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you. I have been on blind dates better than that." She made us laugh even as she made us recognize our universal communion. She has moved on to another dimension in relationships, where there are no blind dates: she has joined the perfect love and knowledge of God. Molly Ivins is now writing for the divine syndicate. No longer raising hell, she can rest in peace, while we mourn her passing, and carry on.

Copyright © 2007 The Bakersfield Californian  

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