From hygiene companies to politics to art to the United Nations, everything must begin and end with “as a woman.” If it were just a celebration of the awesomeness that is woman, and seriously I do love y’all, that would be great. Just as I love being a man, because it’s great, love being a woman. Goose, gander, and all that.
But instead of Margaret Thatcher cookies and discussions of how economic freedom benefits not just men but everyone, we get abortion and birth control. Instead of a discussion of any number of female artists and an Etsy earner agenda, we get Belle Knox talking empowerment.
My oldest daughter is in first grade. She goes to a charter school. They study math, geography, biology, English, and more. And they have quizzes. While studying, she became frustrated over a word and threw down her book. “I can’t read it, it’s too hard.” I tried to reason with her, to point out that she just needed to practice. Maybe a better strategy would have been to discuss with her that in Arkansas abortions after 20 weeks aren’t allowed and that’s the real struggle.
My middle daughter takes soccer quite seriously. She doesn’t care about learning to read or write. She just wants to play soccer. She spends hours each week practicing on her own. Her league had actual practice and games on Saturdays. One Saturday during her most recent season, she only scored one goal. Her teammates scored the rest. This resulted in approximately four on-field meltdowns. And I mean meltdowns. Tear streaming, snot flowing, erratic breathing meltdowns. Perhaps I should have just said, “There, there, honey. You can still get ‘free’ birth control when you’re of age. That’s what matters!”