Betsy Devine: Funny ha-ha and/or funny peculiar

I remember the women’s movement, way back when. No, I don’t go back to the days before women could vote, though my mother did– and don’t you also know people born before 1925?

One of the heroes of “my” women’s movement was Gloria Steinem, who toured the US from 1969 to 1974. Somewhere within that range, she came to NH and I heard her speak. From all she said, I remember one thing: that she had spent her youth making friends only with men–until she realized how many other women felt as she did. That is, she was scorning women who scorned her back–all of them fixated on impressing men, all of them convinced that other women weren’t worth making friends with.

I quickly joined a consciousness-raising group. Our hottest topic: were labor pains were as bad as fiction suggested? The answer: no. Many years and two kids later, I agree. Labor pains feel like diarrhea. On the bad side, they last longer. On the good side, you don’t feel embarrassed. Even better, a spinal anaesthetic makes them vanish.

Despite Gloria’s inspiration, and the experience of “consciousness raising”, I didn’t get bona-fide women friends for years–until I was pregnant. During my grad student years, almost all the people who shared my work interests were male. As a mom, my “work interests” shifted to child-rearing. My point–Gloria, are you listening? Friendship rarely arises from idealistic “what a good person” motives. Friendship more often arises from “that person is doing stuff I want to do” motives.

OTOH–I still think Gloria Steinem is a genius.
One of the funniest and most famous things she wrote is an essay, often reprinted (and multiply online): “If Men Could Menstruate.”

In conclusion, I would like to quote this Mother Jones interview with Steinem at 61:

“Old is not a thing. We’re the same people, going through a different stage….
Remember when you were 9 or 10 or 11, and maybe you were this tree-climbing, shit-free little girl who said, “It’s not fair,” and then at 12 or 13 you suddenly turned into a female impersonator who said, “How clever of you to know what time it is!” and all that stuff? Well, what happens is that when you get to be 60, and the role is over, you go back to that clear-eyed, shit-free, I-know-what-I-want, I-know-what-I-think, 9- or 10-year-old girl. Only now–you have your own apartment.”

Woo hoo! If this is indeed so, I can hardly wait!