Treat me like a lady…

So it’s Women’s Day…I really wonder how this is the case. Surely it’s 2013? Women are equal? But what exactly does it say about the global status of women if we still need to have a ‘day’?

I make no apologies or attempt to hide the fact that I’m a feminist. A domestic feminist at that. Chances are, if you think women should be afforded the same respect, rights and equality of opportunity as men, cats and gerbils then you are too. I make the choices I make because I can, because I want to and usually because I’ve had the freedom to make that decision all by my big adult self. Or so I thought.

You still won’t (to the best of my knowledge) find women on a submarine. This is mainly due to the fact that if pre-menstrual, we can’t be trusted to not go mental and launch a Trident attack off the Jurassic Coast of Dorset, annihilating the fossil potential and probably wiping out a protected newt population…This is bollocks.

We don’t get the same prize money at Wimbledon, because we don’t play as many sets as the men. This is because our arms are already tired from washing up, and won’t be able to hold a carbon fibre racket with the same technology as deployed by NASA for as long as a chap. Also, we might spend the additional cash on unnecessary and frivolous items such as shoes…and fairies…and marshmallow.

You won’t find women in the higher echelons of the church either. This is sensible. We have ovaries. God created Eve with ovaries and look at her the dirty hussy, sinning all over. We have absolutely no ability to communicate with people in need, to empathise, to care for a flock. Best left to the chaps that one…Turns out we’re not all God’s children.

It’s not that I’m claiming men and women are the same. Patently we are not, and I celebrate that difference. I like the fact that I’m tough enough to bleed for 7 days a month and not die. I’m strong enough to give birth -the vaginal equivalent of pushing a boiled egg out of your nostril. I can lug a 15 pound baby in a car seat for approximately two miles before my back chafes a smidge.

And yet still we need a ‘day’. We can put an end to this ‘day’ silliness and all the tension that the mere suggestion of a ‘special day’ evokes. It’s simple.

Stop using the word ‘slut’. Stop telling us ‘not to worry our pretty little heads about it’. Stop battering us behind closed doors. Stop raping us. Stop thinking it’s acceptable to bury us up to our necks in an arena and stone us because we had the audacity to be raped. Stop bombing us and our children and referring to us as ‘collateral damage’. Stop withholding food, education and basic human rights because we happen to live in a country with an oppressive dictatorship that tells us we are worthless. Stop telling me I’m a goddamn sinner.

See, it’s that simple.

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