[image from google]
Those were the days,
my friend,
when we burst out of
our polyester pants
and domestic straitjackets,
grew our hair long,
sang "Hit the Road, Jack"
at the top of our lungs,
and realized:
We are People too,
this is not fair.
(He said,
kicking over
the stack of Ms. magazines
disdainfully,
"We were all right
till you started thinking
you were a Person.")
Those were the years
when
the words of Desiderata,
"You are a child of the universe.
...you have a right to be here"
made me cry,
because I had never
realized that truth
before.
Those were the years
when the women raged
and the men grew silent,
when the status quo buckled,
and the 50's were
Most Definitely Over.
We felt the "click"
of the Problem That Had No Name,
when The Feminine Mystique
hit our parched throats
like a cool drink in the desert,
like a map made in Braille
for the unsighted.
Those were the years
when the hobbled
burst free and flew,
exhilarating swoops
through a new landscape
of women,
when
Ms. magazine
liberated me
from my prison,
and I was never
the same again.
Those were the days.
Hear me roar.
Last night I caught Oprah's interview with Gloria Steinem, still so beautiful. It so took me back to the 70's, those years of flinging off the shackles.
