Today one year ago was the 100th celebration of International Women's Day. I wish I could say that things had gotten better. Perhaps they have, but recent events have me feeling as though I have been torpedoed backwards to a time when women had little say in their own lives not to mention the lives of those they were responsible for. My view is undoubtedly skewed as I am an American woman and this country is failing its daughters in increasingly absurd ways minute-by-minute and day-by-day. Perhaps reality has been kinder to my sisters in other corners of the world. I certainly hope so.
Here, however, the outlook is grim.
It frankly astonishes me that discussions about wealth inequality, access to healthcare, and social justice have been swept off the table to accommodate lunatics who view women as either broodmares or sluts and prostitutes.
I am exhausted. I am sick to death of this fight. I shouldn't have to fight it. My mother already did. And her mother before her. I belong to the largest block of voters in the country. I belong to the better educated half of this country. I belong to the majority of this country.
Here we are, fighting to protect women when they want to consult their personal physician on matters that matter only to them. Fighting to keep them out of poverty when they become mothers. Fighting the definition of rape. Fighting over who gets to testify before Congress about whether or not biology is destiny.
So excuse me if I'm not feeling particularly festive today. I'm too busy fighting.