“Monica”

c. 2019 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(7-19)

“Good morning, Twitter!”

Like most Americans, her image has been indelibly tattooed onto my consciousness. Her undeniable cuteness, her curiosity, her deep eyes and dark hair. Her longing gazes, her ebullience and youthful charm. The unwilling ‘It Girl’ of 1990’s tabloid lore. The focal point of a factional maelstrom. The implement of justice for rivals of the president. The butt of crude jokes for late-night comics. The victim ignored. The forgotten and never-forgotten. Ever-present even when watchers prefer not to see.

I encountered her via Twitter, perhaps a year ago. Still charming and effervescent. But now more seasoned with the experiences that only age can bring. Past the point of being an active celebrity. No longer selling fad-diets or handbags. I gasped silently, reading that she had reached her mid-40’s. A smart student with a master’s degree in psychology. Living well after the sort of life that would have humbled even the strongest souls.

A champion in the art of endurance.

Predictably, posts about her colorful past continued. Foolish, low-hanging-fruit barbs in cyberspace. The sort of nonsense one would expect to hear from youngsters who had surreptitiously acquired their first pack of cigarettes and bottle of liquor. Dumb, sexist, marginalizing jabs from male and female tweeters, alike. I read them with a wincing reaction in my belly. Feeling both gladness and guilt. Glad for her ability to soar over the debris of her notoriety. Guilty because, like so many, I swam in the muddy river of support for her powerful pursuer. And remain, to this day, made unclean by that moment.

I voted for Bill Clinton. Twice.

Stories of his adulterous liaisons were known, even then, but cheerfully ignored by supporters. Some truly believed in the “vast, right-wing conspiracy.” Others simply chose expedience over moral beliefs. But a sort of bargain with Lucifer was struck. Instead of inspiring an early echo of #MeToo awareness, the moment provided cause for a circling of wagons. Clinton’s accusers were trashed, even by his wife. Meanwhile, Newt Gingrich and his congressional horde brewed up a poison punch from elements of duplicity and prevarication at the White House. One that ultimately did not prove to be fatal to its target. President Clinton remained popular enough. And able to work with his opponents, despite the rancor.

Thus, my votes in 1992 and 1996.

With the modern rise of Trump, our nation has encountered something of a biblical storm. One that might be defined as “wages of sin.” Republicans who cheer for the grabber-of-privates and adulterer-in-chief justify such conduct on the foundation laid by their enemies. A mistake with no judgment of mortality. And foes who clamor for impeachment hear a similar accusation of partisanship to the one they employed not so long ago. Roles have been reversed. Routines wildly run amok.

But Monica remains.

Her stamina must be viewed as remarkable. But more important is her ability to remind us of our failings. In the 21^st Century, with demons of Harvey Weinstein, Donald J. Trump and Jeffrey Epstein looming in our consciousness, we have still not fully shamed such offenders with the might of public opinion. President Clinton remains a folk hero and elder statesman. While Monica Lewinsky yet hears the locker-room banter of those on social media platforms.

More damming than what these comments say about her is what they reveal about us, as a group.

In the 1990’s, I struggled with my own marital woes. It became easy to transfer that condition to the scandals of our president. He seemed locked in a marriage that was more convenient than fulfilling. His young intern offered fresh air in an environment that had grown deathly stale. This perfect storm was predicated on weakness and sin. But I, like many other voters, felt a kinship with him, in our failings. We were men at our core. Sly, self-interested, stealthy. Incredibly stupid. In the balance, flawed to the point of injuring ourselves.

Hillary’s zeal in combating her husband’s accusers left a foul aftertaste that never evaporated. Her concern was tilted toward political survival, not marital wholeness. If she had spoken out for justice, for fidelity, for reconciliation and genuine remorse, who knows what might have developed in decades of the future. But, she did not choose that path.

Monica, young and overwhelmed by a powerful figure of worldwide renown, took on the mantle of guilt that her chaser should have worn. Therefore today, ‘Slick Willie’ remains a hero of yonder days and she still dodges the jeers and jabs of internet trolls. While Trumpers grouse about these past transgressions in hope of hiding the filthy state of their own hero.

This is the unintended magic of Ms. Lewinsky. She raises a cultural mirror in which we are forced to view ourselves. Naked of artifice and convenient shadows.

In Matthew 25:40, the Christian Bible says “The King will reply ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” And in verse 45, “‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’” (New International Version) A modern paraphrase of this lesson might be offered for today:

“What you have done unto Monica Lewinsky, you have done unto America.”

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