On two different levels, I knew better. I did it anyway. Someone else stepped up onto the higher moral ground and corrected me, sharing a few of the economic reasons feminism started in the US, along with the fact that not all those women were married. To be fair, that discussion group acknowledged, yes, racism was very problematic early in the beginning. At least now there’s more of an awareness of racism. Even so, I’d dismissively pronounced that feminism started in the US by bored White housewives.
Who the fuck cares about some shiny new future if you cannot envision yourself thriving in it?
Generational trauma and anger, coupled with an abundance of historical precedent informs me that women who looked like me, weren’t included in the fight for equality any more than the slaves who were counted in the census prior to 1865. Merely there to swell the numbers, so White people could use the total as leverage.
Where’s the fight now? Does the 45th president not inform us? Part of his legacy, the overturn of Roe v Wade, which he now distances himself from, was brought to us due to a significant number of White women voting for him in 2016.
Although many who voted for him in 2016 didn’t in 2020, 45’s Supreme Court looms in the fabric of our current times, ready to fetch us back to a time where women and other marginalized groups had fewer rights.
Like the perfect salve, Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider popped up next in my ever-growing booklist. Listening to her classic collection of essays and speeches soothed that raw part of my soul, reassuring me that I can still have a rich, wonderful life despite all the challenges.
I used to be disheartened when reading such classics and acknowledging that not too much has changed in the struggle: strong, independent, straight women still being accused of being lesbians; White feminists still claiming they cannot “find” more than a vast underrepresentation of women of color to consult/participate; pricey feminist conferences that all but guarantee that only women of a certain economic class and by default race can attend; the persistent belief that in order to be happy, one must have another group of people to look down upon.
Just like that, my anger subsided. More due to not having the luxury of time to fume about it. Both creative and paid work beckoned. Life goes on.