While I was at home having babies (three in five years) the world was moving on. I agreed with the cause of the feminist women. Was mentally marching with them and literally shed bra and girdle. I haven’t worn a girdle since, thank God, talk about bondage. This instrument of torture could only have been invented by a man. Geez, even now I can recall garters digging into my soft thighs.
These courageous women of the 60s fought for equal pay for equal work, they fought against sex discrimiination, they pushed for the equal rights amendment, year after year. They were angry and vocal. They were called names, harrassed and insulted, not only by hardhats, but also by the white male establishment and traditional females who felt their not so comfortable but familiar world being shaken to its core. I was on the edge of all this. Being me, I was in both worlds.
I loved being mom to my five year old daughter, who was already a character cut from the cloth off strong women, my adorable two year old son,, whose focus in life at that time was eating everything I put in front of him, and my most perfect new baby girl. I also adored my handsome husband who was becoming more and more opposite of my feminist, and political leanings.
So here I am on the fence, raising children to the best of my ability, reading, discussing, however, still crocheting, knitting, doing needlepoint and selling some of my crafts to make a few extra bucks.