Skip to main content

International Women's Day—Again

Do you ever just get tired? I do. When I reflect on subjects we (and by we, I mean the constipated elements who seem to have missed the first go around) hash and then re-hash, I just get tired. We're really still talking about contraception? At least in the U.S., we decided to make them legal in the 60s, so why are we still even talking about them and whether or not women deserve to have them covered by insurance?  And why, in 2012, do we still need a Black History Month—why haven't we thoroughly incorporated the black race into our history books already?

Same goes for Women In History Month, which we're in the middle of as I write. And specifically, today is International Women's Day. Why, for the love of all that is right, do we still need a day to remind the world that millions of women on this planet are just barely hanging on by a thread because the society they happened to have been born in thinks they are of little value and heaps suffering down upon their heads. I'm not talking about equal pay for equal work, although that's still a critical issue. I'm talking about women who are denied the right to buy land, the opportunity to borrow money for small businesses, the right to an education, to drive, to vote or even to leave the house without a male escort. I'm talking about women and girls who are raped as a war tactic, doused with acid for minor infractions (or no infractions at all), sold to husbands and to traffickers and who are murdered for bringing dishonor to the family.

I'm not just tired, I'm tired of it, as my now favorite saying goes. I was naive to think we would have advanced as a species, I suppose, but that's my fault for being hopeful.

Well, as I sigh and wonder if I should adjust my expectations, here is today's column for Small Town Newspaper. The last time I wrote about the state of womanhood in the world, a local gentleman (and by gentleman, I mean jackass) wrote an online comment saying, "Make me a sandwich." I wonder if I should start my expectation adjusting by not bothering to check for comments today.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cindy Loo Who In October

What is it with people and Cindy Loo Who? Of my last one hundred blog hits, forty have been direct visits from regular readers, and fifteen have been as a result of people searching for "Cindy Loo Who," the little pixie from Seuss's How The Grinch Stole Christmas . A couple of years ago, I posted an image of the original Seuss illustration as compared to the TV cartoon image, and for some reason, that post is bringing in the crowds, relatively. Maybe it's the weather. It isn't even November yet, and already we've had frost and have had to dust off our winter coats. When it gets cold like this, I start to think about Christmasy things like listening to Nat King Cole and decorating the tree. It's ironic because I am offended when retailers start pushing holiday stuff early, but I don't mind my own private celebrations. When my sister and I were much younger and still living with our parents, we would pick a day in July, close the curtains to darken the ...

Happy Birthday To...

Pope Leo IX (the Pope) JCF Bach (German composer) Jane Russell (of Gentlemen Prefer Blonds fame) Daniel Carter Beard (founder of the Boy Scouts of America) Jean-Paul Sartre (French philosopher) Maureen Stapleton (Academy Award winning actress) Mariette Hartley (who?) Prince William of Wales (the prince) but most importantly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 45 years ago today, I was born in Alabama in a small town on the banks of the Tennessee River. Yesterday, someone asked me if my family has any birthday traditions. The answer is no. My family never cared very much, but I do remember a few birthday highlights. I was given a birthday party in the back yard when I was ten years old. Two years later, my sister got married on my birthday, so I was just a bit overlooked, although I did get a stuffed animal--it was a white Yorkshire terrier with an AM radio in its stomach. When I turned 20, a different sister took me to an outdoor performance of Dvorak's New World Sympho...