Have we internalized the patriarchy so much that we think it’s normal to care what strange men think of us?

My friend Tina is gorgeous. Even without a drop of makeup and in baggy clothes, she is gorgeous.

She has always drawn male attention, most of it unwanted.

She just started a new job as a flight attendant and was worried that she would be hit on all the time, but – it’s not happening. The passengers are not hitting on her. At all.

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When I moved to Chile as a Peace Corps volunteer, I discovered piropos. That is, the compliments strange men throw to women in the street.

I had experienced this before, when I was in high school in the Panama Canal Zone. When my friend Julie and I would take the city of Panama bus home from weekend swim meets, men we did not know would hiss at us: “Ay, chica ameri-caaaaaaaa-nah!”

It made us very uncomfortable, but we were together in broad daylight on busy streets, so we were not too scared.

In Chile, I heard comments like, “Saint Michael opened the gates of heaven and you fell out!”

Heads swiveled when I walked past.

I found it disconcerting and freaky.

When I tried to explain to my Chilean female friends, they laughed and said, “Do you want them not to say anything?”

Even when I explained that in the US, this kind of behavior can be the precursor to stalking and assault, they laughed it off, saying that’s not how it worked in Chile.

(I also had people tell me there was no rape in Chile during the dictadura, to which I replied that of course there was but women just didn’t report it.)

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When I finished my two year stint in the Peace Corps, I came back to the US over land.

The piropos got worse. In Guatemala, a man whispered, “If I were your pants….” as he passed me on the sidewalk.

My jaw dropped and I stopped.

“What if someone said that to your sister?” I demanded.

I don’t think he cared.

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Even though there were a million empty seats available, a man sat next to me on the ferry in Honduras and started talking to me.

I ignored him as long as I could, but he kept talking.

I finally told him to stop talking to me.

He was confused. Was I not feeling well, he asked.

I feel fine, I told him. I just don’t want you to talk to me.

His jaw dropped. Wasn’t his attention the most precious thing in the world?

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When I crossed the border back into the US, the catcalling stopped.

I was relieved but I was also concerned. I looked at my reflection in shop windows and in public restrooms. Had I suddenly become ugly? Was I now completely unattractive to men?

Tina is puzzled by the lack of male attention.

She doesn’t want it but the stories are out there – that’s just how men are with flight attendants!

We wonder if the world has changed, but we also know that human nature has not evolved so much in the past few years that all men now always conduct themselves with propriety.

And we wonder why we even care, knowing that we didn’t want the attention in the first place.

Why should it matter if we are attractive to obnoxious men?

Hahaha! Not really! Insurance (and medical research) will always take care of men!

Great news! There’s yet another treatment for erectile dysfunction. Thank goodness more and more research dollars are being devoted to solving the scourge of ED. LIVES ARE BEING SAVED.

Eroxon, a topical gel intended to treat erectile dysfunction, may soon be available in the United States.

The Food and Drug Administration authorized the marketing of the product as a medical device on Friday. Eroxon, a first-of-its-kind treatment for erectile dysfunction, will not require a prescription.

Eroxon isn’t a drug; the FDA calls it a “non-medicated hydro-alcoholic gel.” Futura Medical, a U.K.-based company that manufactures Eroxon, markets the topical treatment as a “fast-acting gel” that helps men “get an erection within 10 minutes.”

Washington Post, June 15, 2023

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My friend Zoe messaged me.

On another note, I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription after yoga. TMI alert (but I have to share with someone who will share my rage!) The prescription is for vaginal dryness (more or less the female equivalent of Viagra, right?!). Pharmacy tech looks up the prescription and looks back at me in shock. Steps away to talk to the pharmacist and returns to tell me my insurance didn’t cover this prescription; would they like me to call the doc to see if there’s an alternative? How much is it without insurance, I ask.

$500!!!!!!!!

Yes I’d appreciate your contacting my doc. And no I will not be taking the prescribed medicine. Please return it to the shelf.

And if this was for a man, you can bet you a$$ it would be covered!!!! WTF!!

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I thought I had come late to activism. I was the one who rolled my eyes at the TexPIRG organizer who wanted me to sign a petition against an arms manufacturer in our district.

“They bring jobs and tax revenue,” I said. “And how much are you getting paid to circulate that petition? If you really believed in the cause, you would do it for free.”

HOLY SMOKE I WAS A JERK.

TexPIRG organizer, I am so sorry. I was rude to you and I was wrong.

So there’s that.

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But there’s also over 20 years ago at my old job at a Fortune 100 company. I discovered they didn’t cover birth control pills but they did cover Viagra.

(OF COURSE THEY COVERED VIAGRA. OF COURSE THEY DID.)

A female co-worker told me just to have my doc say the prescription was medically necessary. (I guess insurance companies don’t think contraception is medically necessary but that’s a whole different story.)

I could have done so, but what about all the young women working at the factories making close to minimum wage?

Thirty dollars a month for BCP would be a lot for them. Our plan at the time had like a $5 copay for a 30-day supply of prescription drugs.

I wrote a letter to the head of benefits and hit a few points:

• Middle-aged men who couldn’t get it up had coverage for something that wouldn’t kill them and that they could probably afford because they were late in their careers, whereas young women making not very much money did not have coverage for something they really needed, especially if the men taking the Viagra wanted to use the Viagra. (In retrospect, maybe I should have left this part out.)
• BCP were not covered, but pregnancy and abortion were. Both pregnancy and abortion were more expensive than BCP.
• Sure looked sexist to cover Viagra and not BCP.

I sent the letter and thought nothing more of it, because honestly who actually effects change with the bureaucracy of an F100?

Guess what I did.

I made them change.

Or, at worst, their change coincided with my letter.

Also. The new VP of HR – which was separate from Benefits but I’m sure they talked – was a woman.

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It might be Lysistrata time. It might be time to challenge the employer. It might be time to challenge the insurance company. Because this age group of men who need Viagra? Who are they going to do it with? If it’s with their OG wives, the wives might be saying, “Yeah it’s good but it’s not $500 good.”

In a world of only women, I would be, to quote my Grandma Sylvia, “fat and happy”

I didn’t even get to complete the sentence – “If [your husband] dies, will you re-” – before my friend Leah answered, “Nope. No. No.”

The same with my friend Judith. “If [your husband] were to die in the next few years, would you re-” was as far as I got before she said, “No!”

I asked the same question on facebook. “If your husband died in the next few years, would you want to remarry?”

No. No. No. No.

Not one single yes.

Not one.

My friends are happy. They are happy in their marriages. Or, if they are unhappy, they have not told me about their unhappiness.

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My mom was a widow at 54. She had five marriage proposals in the ten years after my dad died.

She turned them all down.

I think she had a happy marriage. I hope so!

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My friend Joyce was widowed a few years ago. I’m pretty sure she’s not looking to get remarried. I haven’t asked her and she just turned 100, so she doesn’t get out much.

Shortly after her husband, who was also my friend and was, as far as I know, a lovely man, died, I asked her how she was holding up.

She was fine. She was fine.

It was the first time – at 90something – that she had ever lived by herself her entire life. She’d gone from home to college to grad school to marriage.

She was finally alone.

“I eat what I want when I want,” she said.

“I watch what I want when I want.”

“I can read whenever I want to.”

“I don’t have as much laundry.”

“I don’t have to cook as much.”

“I feel so empowered!” she said.

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I haven’t done a scientific survey. This research is all anecdotal. My friends are, for the most part, middle class and either employed or employable and would be OK financially if their husbands died, so they would not need to re-marry for money.

(I assume they all have wills and, if appropriate, life insurance. I hope so, after all the talking I’ve done about MAKE A WILL MAKE A WILL MAKE A DAMN WILL.)

Also, and more interestingly, I have not asked any men this question.

* runs back to facebook to ask if husbands would want to remarry *

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I love Mr T. I like him.

But I made huge changes in my life to marry him when I was 43.

I don’t think I would ever meet someone I would love enough again to make that kind of effort.

My friends love their husbands, I am pretty sure.

But man are we tired.

I am tired.

I adore Mr T, but it is exhausting to share a house with someone.

It is exhausting to compromise and to listen when you would rather be reading your book but you listen because he is lonely and wants to talk and that’s part of the deal.

It’s exhausting to have the same arguments over and over and over (and if Mr T and I are the only ones who do this, please don’t tell me because I don’t want to know).

It’s exhausting to not be selfish.

And sometimes, I just want to be selfish.

I just want peace and quiet and to have complete control over everything.

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I asked the “would your husband remarry” question and the answers are all pretty much “yes.”

So the women – who are happy in their marriages – stay single and the men – whom I assume are equally happy in their marriages – remarry.

Hmmmm.

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Here’s my dream life (if Mr T dies before I do, which is pretty likely looking at our family histories, although Mr T is not an alcoholic like his parents, so maybe he’ll be around for a long time? I hope so. I would miss him):

All of my women friends and I live on a small compound (within walking distance of a library and a grocery store, of course). We each have our own little house. I don’t need much space – I need so much less space than I have.

Maybe there’s a communal kitchen? Or maybe just a communal area where we can hang out together when we want? I haven’t worked out the details, but there will be a way to be alone if you want and a way to hang out if you want.

Flowerbeds. Native plants. Vegetable gardens. Beehives. Calm.

And cats. There are cats everywhere. Cats who never get sick and never die.

This is my dream.

Imagine what we could accomplish if we fought for our own needs and even our own wants

I was at the library and noticed the books the 70something woman next to me was checking out.

Me: Wow! I like your taste. Those look great!

Other woman: Oh. Now I feel guilty taking out so many.

Me: Why?

OW: Because now you can’t check them out.

Me: What? No! There are plenty of other books for me to read. You take as long as you want with those! I’ll get them when you’re done.

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Years ago, my mom, my dad, and I were at my grandmother’s for lunch. She had half a cantaloupe for dessert.

She cut it in half and gave a quarter to my dad.

She cut the remaining quarter in half again and gave an eighth to my mom and an eighth to me.

There was none for her.

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How much are we expected to sacrifice for others?

How much do we drain ourselves?

When do our wants and needs matter?

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My mother said, “Oh no. Nope. [My dad] has not been working in the fields all day.” She gathered up the cantaloupe, cubed it, and portioned it out into four bowls.

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When my neighbor, who was in her mid 70s, thought she was having a heart attack, she didn’t go to the hospital for three days.

Three. Days.

She was helping with a potluck at church.

She was busy.

(No I didn’t know she was having a heart attack or I would have called 911 myself.)

Same thing with a friend’s mom (FM), who is 80.

She was having a stroke.

A mild one, but a stroke nonetheless. And it was her second stroke. FM’s next-door neighbor, who is a physician, knew about the first stroke (friend did not) and had told FM to call her immediately if FM had symptoms again.

FM did not call.

Instead, she waited until the end of the church service, where she was singing in the choir, and then she drove herself to the ER.

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(Do I even need to mention how terrified these women’s children were when they heard about their mothers? About how scared they were while they sweated out their moms’ first few days in the hospital? How worried they were about what could have happened?)

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None of these women would have hesitated a split second to get help for someone else.

None of these women worried at all about whether someone else’s needs mattered.

The lady at the library was concerned that others might not have access to the Good Books.

My grandmother made sure that her guests got cantaloupe.

But when it comes to their own needs?

Those come last.

Why?

Why does what we need come last?

Why does everyone else come first?

Why does what a stranger wants to read come before what you want to read?

Why does your family’s dessert preclude yours?

Why does a church potluck or a choir take precedence OVER YOUR LIFE?

Meghan and Diana would like A Word

I know this lovely lesbian couple.

They have a beautiful little girl, Sadie, who is almost four.

Today, when I was out for a walk, I saw them out in their yard. Sadie was twirling in her dress and then she curtseyed.

“Sadie, did you just curtsey?” I asked.

Her mom rolled her eyes.

“Yes!” Sadie answered. “I’m going to be a PRINCESS!”

Her mom rolled her eyes again.

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When I saw Sadie last week, she informed me that she is going to let her hair grow down to her toes, “like Rapunzel.”

“But you’re not going to let The Patriarchy keep you in a tower, right?” I asked.

“Nooooooo!” said her mama. “We are against The Patriarchy!”

“ME TOO!” I said.

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Sadie’s moms are definitely pro-woman, anti-patriarchy, anti-gender stereotypes feminists.

So why is Sadie, at not even four years old yet, already steeped in the sexist stereotypes that we have been fighting to get rid of?

Bigger question: Why won’t our culture support getting rid of these stereotypes?

When we were students, my college friend Heather used to say that she would raise her children to be gender neutral. Oh how I laughed at her. That’s impossible, I told her. And why would you even want to?

Sorry, Heather. I was wrong about everything.

If I had had kids, especially girls, I hope I would have been buying their clothes in the boys’ department so they would have had pockets and pants that weren’t skin tight.

I hope I would not have been reading fairy tales to them (I know my neighbors don’t), but I hope I would also have been asking the day care not to read or show those stories. No more Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella or Snow White. No more stories where the woman’s entire plot is to wait to be rescued by a man.

I mean WHAT THE EVERLASTING F. Why did we ever think that was a good thing to teach children?

And of course we didn’t. We didn’t think it.

Those with an interest in preserving the existing system think it.

There are women who all along have struggled and fought against this system.

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How do we fix this? How do we fix this at scale?

I can’t believe it has taken until now – more than 50 years after it was published – for one of the most beloved girls’ books ever, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret – to be made into a movie.

How many Star Wars movies have been made since the late 70s?

And don’t tell me that’s a girls’ movie. I think there’s one woman in it. Maybe two? I googled.

Here are a few ideas.

• Elect more female legislators, judges, and presidents. Elect more female everything
• You, my dear female readers – volunteer for your local boards. Make your voice heard. We have a point of view and it matters and we need to change our world for all the Sadies
• Give presents that don’t reinforce harmful sexist stereotypes. I love to give books as baby presents. These are some of the books I give to girls – maybe I should give them to boys as well. Hmm. Nancy Drew, Heidi, Pippi Longstocking, A Wrinkle in Time

What do you all think? What else can we do? This is for democracy and for all our Sadies.