Ruth Bader Ginsburg is not a superhero and you shouldn’t expect her to be
On 31 August, a newly married bride did what many in her place have done: she shared a photo of her wedding on social media.
“2020 has been rough, but yesterday was Supreme,” she wrote next to the image. At the foreground, the bride and groom could be seen holding hands and casting loving glances at each other. The piece de resistance, however, is located in the background, where none other than Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is sitting in the officiant’s spot, quite clearly conducting the ceremony. In true RBG fashion, the Justice is wearing her black robe in the image, along with a black-and-white collar (she famously has a whole collection of them, including one especially for dissenting).
My first thought upon seeing the photo was a variation of: “How nice!” Then, curious about the bride and groom who had been afforded such an honor, I poked around looking for more information about the happy couple. The bride, Barb Solish, does communications for the National Alliance on Mental Illness. The groom, Danny Kazin, works for the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, according to the Associated Press. Ginsburg is a close friend of one of the families and, a court spokeswoman told AP, the ceremony took place at a private residence, outdoors (as reflected in the photo).
Solish, perhaps sensing that people on Twitter might have, um, opinions about the photo, added in another tweet after her initial photo: “And don’t worry, we tested negative!” (I think we can safely assume here that she's talking about Covid-19.)
Despite this, the comments came. Some deemed the wedding “reckless” and “selfish”. Some were mad at the couple, others at Ginsburg herself. There was a lot of anxiety about the Justice’s health, and the possibility that she might have jeopardized it by performing the ceremony. One tweet read in part: “Congratulations, but I hope you didn’t just destroy Western civilization for a cool wedding photo.”
Look. I, too, shudder with fear every time I receive a push alert beginning with Justice Ginsburg’s name. We’ve all done the same sinister-yet-necessary calculations. She’s 87 years old. She is, according to a 2019 analysis published by Axios, the second-most progressive Justice on the Supreme Court.
I want Ginsburg to live a long and happy life. I am also very keenly aware of the fact that if she were to die, Donald Trump would get to fill a third Supreme Court vacancy, which would be a catastrophe. He would most likely pick someone cut from the same cloth as Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh, his two appointees so far, and respectively the second- and third-most conservative Justices on the court. He said as much at the recent Republican National Convention.
I know that Ginsburg's health, like the health of any 87-year-old, is fragile. She has had to deal with cancer on five separate occasions in the last 20 years; most recently in July, when she announced she would be receiving chemotherapy for lesions on her liver.
If Ginsburg were my grandmother (and how cool would that be? Sadly, she has four grandchildren and I am reliably informed that I am not one of them), I would definitely have some personal worries, because I am an anxious person who’d rather her loved ones lived in a sterile bubble as much as possible, never mind during a pandemic. As a member of the public, though? I don’t feel it’s my place to dunk – much less publicly dunk – on a couple who had the good fortune to have Ginsburg agree to perform their wedding, or on Ginsburg herself.
Certainly, I do not advise throwing caution to the wind in these dark times. Wear masks! Wash your hands – yes, for 20 whole seconds, no slacking! Practice social distancing! Don’t shake hands! You know the drill. I’m relatively certain Ginsburg knows the drill, too. In fact, I would go as far as to say that this 87-year-old woman, whose own beloved husband Martin Ginsburg died of cancer in 2010, is very well-versed in the fragility of life and the risks inherent in her actions, as well as the joys.
Do people seriously believe that Ginsburg didn’t weigh the risks before she agreed to perform the ceremony? Or is it that they wouldn’t feel comfortable criticising her, so they’re turning on the couple instead?
More to the point, exactly to what extent is Ginsburg expected to put her own life on hold so she can keep the conservative men of the Supreme Court from doing vastly harmful things?
Yes, accepting a Supreme Court nomination means accepting a profound public duty. Ginsburg has demonstrated an impeccable sense of that duty throughout her life at the court, not least of all when she kept working even through the pains and trials of cancer treatment. We’re not entitled to every aspect of her private life beyond that.
I have immense respect and admiration for Ruth Bader Ginsburg. I saw the RBG documentary. I shed tears in front of the 2018 biopic On the Basis of Sex. My friends and family are well aware of my RBG obsession. Over the years, I have been gifted a necklace shaped like Ginsburg’s dissent collar, a Ginsburg-themed board game, an RBG workout book, and a T-shirt bearing an image of Ginsburg next to the words: “Women belong to all places where decisions are being made.”
But as much as I profoundly look up to Ginsburg, I know, too, that she’s not here to save us. No one is coming to save us. We have to save ourselves — by voting, by standing up for what’s right, by having difficult conversations and doing difficult things.
People want to see RBG as a superhero, and I admit I've played into the trope myself. But this isn’t a Marvel movie, and it’s not fair to expect Ginsburg to give up even more than she already has in the name of her function. Indeed, it’s unfair to expect anyone to carry the weight of the world – or of American social justice – solely on their shoulders.
Stop worrying about two strangers’ wedding day. Stop worrying about Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s decisions. Use your newfound energy to check your voter registration instead.
