Betty Friedan came along
with her Feminine Mystique
and told us all that we were
bored
depressed
unfulfilled
and in a prison of our husband's making.
Us ladies talked it over
and agreed that we were often bored with baby talk
depressed because of cleaning the same toilets and floors
over and over
and unfulfilled because we weren't using our true abilities.
So a bunch of us got together
and drove downtown
to a NOW meeting.
It was like an old-fashioned revival!
All the thrills and chills
and that wonderful feeling
of being part of a cause
bigger than ourselves.
Some gray-haired lady up front
was yelling
"Are we all sick of being the babysitter?
maid
chief cook and bottle-washer?"
And we all yelled back...
"Yes!"
"And what about being the laundress?
the seamstress
the nurse?"
And we yelled
"Yes!"
Woman began to hop around
taking off bras
and we joined right in.
We looked so silly
all of us Plankett Road ladies
bouncing and jouncing
that we got to laughing
but it didn't matter because everybody was laughing
dancing
singing
and shouting "Yes!"
After a while another lady
younger
went up to the podium
waved her hands for quiet
and talked to us.
She explained that women were kept subordinate
by the old boy's club
which had a vested interest
in keeping us all barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen.
She told us that we should rebel
refuse to cook
clean
pick up our husband's dirty underwear
and let him see how he liked life
without his slave.
"Yeah!"
women hollered.
"Give it right back to him!"
"Get yourselves out of the house!"
she shouted.
"Be the Master of your own Destiny!
Women are not just biological beings
meant for the bearing of children!
We are incredibly talented
intelligent
capable
efficient
beings!"
There was a thunderous applause.
She went on.
"That's what men are afraid of, ladies.
They know we can outshine them
anywhere
anytime
and they are not going to give us the chance
if they can help it!"
Screaming, clapping erupted all over the room.
"So get out there in the real world,
get a job
be a partner
have a say!"
The meeting ended with all of us
old and young
fat and slim
rich and poor
linking arms and singing
"I am Woman! Hear me Roar!"
and everytime we came to the word "Roar"
we all stamped our feet and upped the volume.
After it was all over
I looked for my bra
among the hundreds lying on the floor
but I couldn't find it
so I figured to heck with it.
Somebody probably stomped it to death.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.