Mr. King And The Women
By La Shawn Barber (04/29/03)
Just the mere image of Martin Luther King III standing in front of a posh golf club alongside abortion lobbyist Martha Burk, chair of the National Council of Women’s Organizations, singing “We Shall Overcome” shows how truly distorted Martin Luther King, Jr.’s legacy has become.
Perverting Dr. King’s message of color-blind justice and putting it to shame, his eldest son joined a gaggle of radical feminists on April 12 to protest the Augusta National Golf Club’s exclusion of women as members of its private, constitutionally-protected organization. The late Dr. King--a Christian man who fought and died for equal justice under the U.S. Constitution--lost his life for this?
The apple not only falls quite far from the tree; it plummets into the abyss. Showing no moral outrage whatsoever by the comparison of the exploits of bored, elitist feminists to the civil rights crusade for which his father died, King said, “Whether it’s segregation in 1963 or discrimination in 2003, it’s wrong.” Dr. King’s progeny sees no difference between the billy-club-upside-the-head days of black freedom fighters and the quest of a handful of privileged white women to force their way into a private club. King, who “devotes his time supporting human rights and humanitarian programs throughout the nation and the world”, may well be on his way to becoming the Jesse Jackson of Generation X.
While the first round of The Masters golf tournament was postponed due to rain, Burk and her subjugated sisters soldiered on. In a strained effort to draw parallels between her disingenuous rant and the struggles of the civil rights movement, she staged a press conference outside the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historic Site in Atlanta. Inside the building, just a few steps from the cameras, were photos of Dr. King’s 1965 voting rights march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. Demonstrating peacefully for the right to vote, marchers were beaten, tear-gassed and jailed.
But Burk wouldn’t know Selma, Alabama from Selma, California. She instead resorted to stirring up class envy in the intellectually lazy, as liberals do so well, saying, “...the leaders [of the private club] belong to and support a club that shuts out the same women whose purchases allow them to reach Augusta National in their private jets, to entertain their clients with $100-a-plate dinners, open bars and exotic entertainment.”
And there it is. Burk wants the perks: Recruit some token women--including herself--to crash the club so they can reach Augusta National in their private jets, to entertain their clients with $100-a-plate dinners, open bars and exotic entertainment. So much for Selma.
Conspicuously absent from the rainy day ruckus was Jesse Jackson, who, only a few short months ago, was gung-ho to lead the demonstration. Not one for verbal restraint, he called Augusta’s policy “gender apartheid”, likening it to former race apartheid in South Africa. Blacks were legally segregated from the white population and relegated to a small percentage of their own land. They could travel to white areas only by passbook. Feminists can go wherever they like in America expect private property. Apt comparison, Jesse.
Gender apartheid has apparently lost its appeal. Jackson sent someone else to stand in the rain for him, probably realizing turnout would be low and TV cameras few. He was right. Having lost a federal appeal to gripe at the club’s front gates, Burk and crew were limited to a 5.1 acre plot half a mile away. About fifty protestors showed up, including a large, inflatable pig, reportedly. Don’t ask me.
At least one man stood up to Burk and her throng of whiny females. Club chairman Hootie Johnson has virtually and successfully ignored her hissy fits. “There may come a day when women will be invited to join our membership,” he said, “but that timetable will be ours, and not at the point of a bayonet.”
Liberals want it all, don’t they? They value the privacy of women to choose to kill their babies, yet devalue the privacy of those whose choices they don’t like.
Burk’s a piece of work. “We think the goddess is watching. Maybe she’s not too happy,” she said, crediting her false deity for the rain. “A little rain on the green parade down there.” Perhaps her goddess did what negligent, camera-hopping “friends” of Dr. King haven’t the will to do: Rain on hers.
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