The GOP’s Embarrassing War on Sarah McBride Is a Masterclass in Cowardice

Rep. Keith Self didn’t just misgender Rep. Sarah McBride — he put on a public display of cowardice so pathetic it should come with a warning label: "Caution: Contains fragile egos and weak spines."

Self’s decision to address McBride as “Mr. McBride” — not once, but twice — wasn’t some slip of the tongue. It was a calculated jab, a cheap attempt to flex his authority by degrading a colleague. But instead of commanding the room, Self ended up squirming like a worm on hot pavement.

Here’s how it started:

Self: "I now recognize the representative from Delaware, Mr. McBride."

Right out of the gate, Self didn’t waste a second on subtlety. No hesitation, no stumble — just a smug delivery meant to provoke. He wanted to get under McBride’s skin. What he didn’t expect was McBride’s instant and brilliant response.

McBride: "Thank you, Madam Chair."

With four words, McBride pulled the rug out from under Self. No anger. No flustered comeback. Just calm, deliberate mockery that flipped his pathetic insult right back at him. Self had walked into his own trap. The room shifted. The mood soured.

[Pause, murmuring in the room]

That silence? That wasn’t just awkwardness — that was the sound of Keith Self realizing, in real-time, that he was losing control.

Keating: "Chair, could you repeat your introduction again, please?"

Enter Rep. Bill Keating — and this is where things turned ugly for Self. Keating knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t confused. He wasn’t looking for clarification. He was giving Self a chance to fix his mistake — a chance to walk back his petty jab before it turned into a scene.

Self: "Uh... yes, it's a... it's a... we have set the standard on the floor of the House, and I'm simply—"

Everybody could see Self's confidence collapsing in real-time. That awkward pause, that fumbling attempt to sound authoritative — it’s the verbal equivalent of checking your pocket for a winning lottery ticket only to realize you’re holding a grocery receipt. He knew he'd screwed up, but instead of correcting himself, he tried to bluff his way out.

Keating: "What is that standard, Mr. Chairman? Would you repeat what you just said when you introduced a duly elected representative from the United States of America, please?"

Keating wasn’t letting go. He smelled blood. The slow, deliberate tone — "a duly elected representative from the United States of America" — wasn’t just about McBride anymore. Keating was making sure everyone in the room knew this wasn’t a minor disagreement — it was an insult to Congress itself.

Self: "I will — the representative from Delaware, Mr. McBride."

Twice. He said it twice. He had the out — Keating practically handed it to him — and he still chose to double down. This wasn’t some principled stance; this was a tantrum — an ego-driven flail designed to avoid the one thing Self couldn’t handle: admitting he was wrong.

Keating: "Mr. Chairman, you are out of order."

This is where Self’s act started to collapse. Keating’s voice hardened, and you can hear the disbelief behind his words — the frustration of a man realizing he’s dealing with someone too petty to correct himself.

Self: "We have set the standard—"

Keating: "Mr. Chairman, have you no decency? I mean, I’ve come to know you a little bit, but this is not decent."

Boom. The hammer dropped. Keating reached back into history and unleashed the most devastating insult in American politics — “Have you no decency?” — a callback to Joseph Welch’s legendary takedown of Joseph McCarthy in 1954. Those four words don’t just call out cruelty — they expose it as pathetic, weak, and beneath contempt.

Keating knew exactly what he was saying. He was calling Self a bully — a man too small to take responsibility for his own behavior. And Self’s reaction proved him right.

Self: "We will continue this—"

Keating: "You will not continue it with me unless you introduce a duly elected representative the right way."

Keating didn’t just call out Self — he shut him down. No wiggle room. No backpedal. He refused to let the hearing continue unless Self did the bare minimum: say McBride’s name correctly.

Self: "This hearing is adjourned."

And there it was — the final, pitiful act. Faced with a choice between behaving like a professional or throwing a tantrum, Self grabbed his gavel, slammed it down, and ran. He didn’t just fold — he fled. He didn’t have the courage to stand by his insult or the humility to admit he was wrong.

This wasn’t a debate. It wasn’t a disagreement about policy. It was a man-child losing his grip on a room full of adults and bailing before things got worse.

But this wasn’t just Self’s blunder. His meltdown was part of a larger pattern — a GOP crusade against McBride that’s as predictable as it is pathetic.

Nancy Mace tried the same stunt before McBride was even sworn in, pushing a bathroom ban that boiled down to “I don’t like her, so she can’t pee here.” When that didn’t rattle McBride, Mace started misgendering her at every opportunity — on social media, in interviews, anywhere she could grab a microphone. Not to be outdone, Rep. Mary Miller proudly called McBride “the gentleman from Delaware” in what can only be described as a proud display of ignorance.

These aren’t political statements — they’re cheap shots from people who know they can’t win on merit. They can’t outwork McBride. They can’t outthink her. They can’t keep up with her composure. So they’re left with this: a desperate smear campaign disguised as some warped defense of “biological truth.”

Misgendering McBride isn’t about belief or tradition — it’s about control. The GOP can’t erase her, so they’re trying to reduce her to a joke. They think if they say “Mr. McBride” enough times, she’ll vanish.

But McBride isn’t going anywhere. Every day she shows up to Congress — focused, prepared, and refusing to flinch — she’s winning. And these GOP cowards know it. That’s why they’re flailing. That’s why they’re stuttering their way through hearings. That’s why Keith Self, a man supposedly in charge, couldn’t even finish his own meeting without throwing down his gavel and stomping off like a spoiled child.

He thought he was humiliating McBride. Instead, he humiliated himself. And the whole world got to watch.

---