It’s funny how people seem to think that we don’t need International Women’s Day anymore. In Denmark it is called something that translates loosely into “female fight day.” I don’t know how many times I’ve been asked what women has to fight for? We are equal, right? Stop bitchin’!
I guess it’s true. And not true. But I am not going to get political here. Not much, anyway. I just know that our female politicians, for instance, are usually described in the media as “beautiful,” or “sweet” or any other flattering, however patronizing adjectives. Words you would never use about a male politician. Words designed to shoot her down a bit, before she even opens her mouth.
There is a huge difference between being introduced as “the beautiful…” or as “the skilled…” which is usually the kinds of words one use about men. Skilled, clever, intelligent, ambitious. But a woman, well, she is pretty, isn’t she?
I know. I have a serious issue about being called pretty. Or anything else, referring to how I look, or my gender, which is why, I guess, I have made sure to dress as much as a dirty stable boy as possible, all of my life. Don’t judge me for what I look like, and don’t think that it is a compliment to call me beautiful, however well intended it is, because in many situations, it really is not. Judge me by what I can do, and don’t say things to me, you would not say to a man.
I worked with a guy, briefly, who kept doing that. I usually work well with guys, as long as they don’t treat me like a girl, but this one did. I don’t think he ever realized how much he was getting under my skin. Don’t call me cute when I am at work. It is cutting me down instantly in the eyes of the clients.
“Oh, and that’s our cute photographer.”
Planning to murder you….
Women has three ways to get by in the world. One, you can be the cute girl and let the guys adore you and carry you and cover for you. They won’t ever take you seriously, if you do that, but it is a way to get by, I guess. Or, as the second option, you can be one of the guys, and be just as tough, just as able to talk about sex, and computer games, and what ever else guys like. And three, you can be the gay chick, they all secretly fear.
I have to admit, all three options kind of suck. I have been walking the fine line between the two last options most of my life, and it gets tiresome. It really does.
So, yeah, I still think that women has a few things to fight for.
Even if we did not, it is worth remembering history. How women could not vote. Or decide who they married. Or wear pants. Or leave home without a man.
How history look back on all of that, and find it ridiculous.
How we could perhaps be drawing parallels to the LGBT society and wonder when they get equal rights all over the world. Maybe someday, people will shake their heads in shame about how they were treated too, when looking back on history.
Until then, let’s not forget, that not too long ago, women could not get a drivers licence. Sure, we have come a long way, but we are not “home” before we truly stop judging each other for things we cannot change, like how we were born.
So, I’d like to present the women who made a difference in my life.
One, my mom, who ran away with me, when I was a baby, and hid from my abusive father, even though her own parents told her to go back to him, because a woman should not leave her man. Not even if he beat her. This was 1982, by the way. I will always be grateful that she spared me growing up in an abusive home, by her courage.
Two, Rie, who owned “my” old stable, the place where my red boys and I grew up. She was a strong influence on me, and I always admired how she handled the farm and everything on her own, despite her advancing years.
Three, my band, Whatever. Because music and friendship like that, doesn’t come by often.
Fourth, my fellow horsemanship friend, Amalie, who for some reason stuck with my crazy boys and I, when most other’s wouldn’t. I have other “horse friend’s” I would like to thank as well, but she is top of the list.
My “twin sister” who inspired one of the major characters in The Starstone Series;
And of course, the girls in this picture, Janis, her pony Sara, and my girl, Silver. All three of them dead by now, but never forgotten. They were some of the bravest souls I have ever met.
Which leads me straight to my wonderful girl, Flicka, who always gave me everything she had to give and more;
And my warm and loving beta mare, Tardis, who trusted me with her new born foal, despite having known me for less than 6 months when he was born;
My strong Marble, who have been through so much already, but never gave up and never stopped fighting;
And last, but certainly not least, the undisputed Queen of my pasture, Lady Amalia;
She was the rock I used to lean on. The rock my two red boys leaned on for 14 years. Without her, I don’t think I would have been as sane as I am today. Without that son of hers, I don’t know how I would have pulled through saying goodbye to her. She was the kind of persona that leaves a hole in your heart, on your pasture, and everywhere you turn, forever.
And I know, they are all beautiful. But they were/ are so much more, and just describing them by their looks, does seem shallow. They would have fought that.
I realize that this post is a few days too late. I’ve been stuck in sound editing on our latest movie and haven’t had the time to open this blog. Any free moment I’ve had has been used on my horses or writing my books. But the movie is almost done now, so hopefully I’ll have a bit more time until we start up the next project.