Pamela Cross has already said everything I would say (and more) about this sad anniversary, so I’ll just point you to her post.
Her post ends with a poem. I’ll also offer a poem, although not such an optimistic one. This one’s by Susan Griffin:
An Answer to a Manâ€™s Question,
â€œWhat Can I Do About Womenâ€™s Liberation?â€
Wear a dress.
Wear a dress that you made yourself, or bought in a dress store.
Wear a dress and underneath the dress wear elastic, around
your hips, and underneath your nipples.
Wear a dress and underneath the dress wear a sanitary napkin.
Wear a dress and wear sling-back, high-heeled shoes.
Wear a dress, with elastic and a sanitary napkin underneath,
and sling-back shoes on your feet, and walk down Telegraph Avenue.
Wear a dress, with elastic and a sanitary napkin and sling-
back shoes on Telegraph Avenue and try to run.
Find a man.
Find a nice man who you would like to ask you for a date.
Find a nice man who will ask you for a date.
Keep your dress on.
Ask the nice man who asks you for a date to come to dinner.
Cook the nice man a nice dinner so the dinner is ready before
he comes and your dress is nice and clean and wear a smile.
Tell the nice man youâ€™re a virgin, or you donâ€™t have
birth control, or you would like to get to know him better.
Keep your dress on.
Go to the movies by yourself
Find a job.
Iron your dress.
Wear your ironed dress and promise the boss you wonâ€™t get
pregnant (which in your case is predictable) and you like to
type, and be sincere and wear your smile.
Find a job or get on welfare.
Borrow a child and get on welfare.
Borrow a child and stay in the house all day with the child,
or go to the public park with the child, and take the child
to the welfare office and cry and say your man left you and
be humble and wear your dress and your smile, and donâ€™t talk
back, keep your dress on, cook more nice dinners, stay
away from Telegraph Avenue, and still, you wonâ€™t know the
half of it, not in a million years.