Women Like Us

Post-Roe. We are Post-Roe. Let that sink in. Let it be known that our rights have been stolen by our own justices. There is no justice. There is no peace.

I woke up this morning after a long day of celebratory drinking. It was the 4th of July weekend and prosecco and oj are an essential to delude ourselves that we live in a world that is carefree and well, free. I walked around my home at 6AM and as the soft marine layer cast the most calming grey light across my face, what I saw in the mirror was something familiar. My morning energy. Suntanned and still youthful and still here to be reckoned with. I walked through my 2 bedroom apartment on the beachside of Santa Monica like a woman with rights. I brushed my hair and dressed for coffee-- down by the beach. I would go later and I would wear my green scarf, I said to myself. I live alone, and in that, I echo the life of Gloria Steinem, in that, I am here, in this very way, because of her and women like her. They shifted the psyche of America. Their individualism could not be escaped. I like living alone and have such a depth of understanding of individualism I surprise myself. As a feminist of the 3rd wave I wonder if what I discarded, men and babies, is an act of preservation and if that is in itself feminism. At least, a part of it. But, it cannot just be survival. It is most certainly thriving. I thrive. But I know the journey out of The Patriarchy as I have been bled by it. I felt as if I had escaped some sort of grim fairytale... It is for some of us to walk out of the fire and on to a beach. 

≈