The other day I was in the car, flying somewhere. Maybe to someone’s house. I can’t remember now. My co-pilot and I got into a heated debate about women in power positions, about feminism and about the horrible things that happen to women in developing countries around the world.
Here were some of the excerpts from our discussion:
- “Is it cultural or is it cruel to make women wear burkas?”
- “Men rape virgins because they think that will cure their HIV!”
- “It’s always been the boys club everywhere I’ve worked.”
- “Women in power positions have to be aggressive or they won’t be taken seriously.”
- “All major religions treat women like second class citizens.”
- “Look at my leg! I missed this whole section when I was shaving!”
- “Just cross your legs the other way.”
And then, this is what ended the conversation: “There are more of us than them,” I said. “Yes, there are more women than men in the world, so what?” She responded. So, I went on in a monologue of stream of consciousness that was a diarrhea of ideas, which is what usually happens when, well, I get an idea:
“If we were to all join together. If we were to band together as an army of women. Regardless of nationality. If you have a vagina, you’re in. Like the First Wives Club, but on a global scale. Do you know what we could do? Can you imagine how quickly we could fight for the rights of women who can’t speak for themselves? Can you imagine if we can have a Global P***y Strike where we ask women to withhold sex until our demands are met? We can call it GPS! How cool is that? That will for sure work here to get equal pay. Can you imagine? If they can’t ram their wives and chicks on the side, then they’ll have to ram a bill through Congress. Ooooh. That’s another great slogan. ‘Ram the Bill so you can Ram the Wife!’ And then off to Africa. Where we can send our troops, our female troops, to protect women, to educate men and to save the clitoris from extinction. Can I make an acronym out of that? S.C.F.E.. No. That’s dumb. Just ‘Save the Clit’ I think that’s fine. Well, I suppose it would depend if it can translate well. The point is connecting women. Empowering them. So that they won’t be stoned to death for being a woman. Maybe that’s the New World Order? The revenge of the vagina. Or the beginning of the apocalypse, where God will finally show her face and judge all of those who have slapped and spat at women. No, seriously. That’s the answer. Women joining together.”
Without looking over at me, without missing a beat, my co-pilot said, “Men have all the power. It will never happen. Oh, and you missed the exit. I think we’re somewhere in Florida City.”
As I maneuvered a U-turn I thought about my idea quietly. It was a damn good idea. At least, in theory. That GPS thing was solid. Okay, maybe not so solid. But you know what is solid? Betty Makoni, founder of the Girl Child Network helping rape victims in Africa. Gloria Steinem and the Ms. Foundation and Women for Women International and Kiva. But better than all of that is that we have mothers and grandmothers and aunts and friends that affirm us and care for us already. Oh, and yes, fathers and grandfathers and uncles and husbands and friends that are male that view women as more than just an object they own or use for pleasure. And then there are those that have a calling, like my friend Francesca. Always the strong woman who not only cares for those around her, but for those she doesn’t even know as a mental health professional. In fact, she is so “balls out” that she turns a middle finger up to society and says, “You can call me Franky.”
So yeah, there is a lot of misery in being a woman, economically, politically and socially. But there are a lot of women that are working, helping, volunteering, talking, meeting, brainstorming, plotting, scheming and renting movies that star Sally Field (i.e. Eye for an Eye). So Franky, you can relax. We’ll have our day when we will either be equal to men in every way or we may just make them equal to us in misery, fear and woes.