(And other ways this is turning into the woman power corner of my life).
I get so infuriated when I see tweets like this one below. In fact, “so” isn’t even enough muchness for the amount of pressure I feel in my gut reading this.
And it has nothing to do with being a “liberal” or the power I feel when I call myself a FEMINIST, it has everything to do with repeating history. There might be, somewhere deep in a chest cavity that I own, a part of me that believes in something conservative. Right now, I couldn’t name anything, but at one point in my life I was extremely pro-life. I have that Catholic “guilt” thing plus that Catholic “sweep this under the rug” thing and that combination causes interesting views and values. I believe though, that people should be given the opportunity for gray area. Where has the gray area gone? Why must we be either EXTREME liberal or EXTREME conservative? I realize Trump brought this out, and believe me, I was NOT one of the 53% of white women that voted for that man, but still. Gray matter, it’s important in our central nervous systems and our political opinions.
But that’s not what this blog is about. This blog is about women who feel the need to pick on other women for their choices. I’m from the Bible belt. For my entire childhood, I studied that historic text and I know some verses. I can’t spit ’em, but I have the Google. Isn’t the main theme of The Bible some old school rap like “Thou Shalt Not Judge.” But this image, for me, doesn’t stop hating there, judging there, being spiteful there.
What bothers me the most is that the ENTIRE reason we’re able to wear giant vagina costumes in the street, VOTE, hold public office (Kellyanne Conway, thanks for retweeting), ask for a raise, be anything other than a secretary or a replacement worker because men are at war, is because OTHER WOMEN stood up for us first. And what really gets to me is that those OTHER WOMEN stood up for these women too. Why is she so concerned about what we look like to other countries and how their women have no rights, instead of standing up for those rights with other women for other women? If you want to save girls from genital mutilation, start a march, a petition, a foundation. Don’t write a paragraph for Twitter. If you want to give women the ability to speak against their husbands in court in other countries, go there and serve, don’t throw up some hashtags and call it justice.
Why CAN’T women everywhere wear a pink pussy hat in the streets? Or yell obscenities about their elected officials? Why are we so busy complaining about how we “look,” or our reputation, when we should be worried about those women who are facing the inabilities we clearly take for granted. The fact that this could even be posted on Twitter without the copyedit of a man says so much about how far this country has prospered and how far we seriously need to go.
For me, how to help every woman is by standing up for every. single. woman. Even this one who tweets why she’s not a liberal feminist. Who bashes women who choose to use their voices in the most explicit ways because every other moment in history we were forced to be known as “anonymous.” Here’s a woman who felt sturdy enough, influential enough, to wear her sexuality like a hat. Some people think this is embarrassing, but I’m just thankful that this is something we can do in this country.
Here’s to the women who stood up for other women when they said, “Why would you want to vote?” Thanks, Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1815-1902) and Lucretia Mott (1793-1880). (Fun fact: I was Elizabeth Cady Stanton in my fifth grade wax museum and it was AWESOME). Here’s to the women who stood up for other women when they said, “Why would you want to fight in the military?” Thanks, Deborah Samson Gannett for DISGUISING yourself because of your fear of what people would think about you, but STILL FIGHTING.
Really, you can’t have suffrage without suffering. But to suffer at the hands of another woman for standing up for her rights too, even the ones she can’t respect, is disgusting to me. Instead of thickening the divide, find a way to bridge the gap and “wade into the water” as some of the strongest women in my eyes once sang.