Here at Lady Economist, we try to represent different feminist perspectives on issues germane to women’s lives and the economy. There isn’t one correct feminist viewpoint, and our strength comes from constructive discussion and debate meant to lead to the mutual goal of gender equality. So in that spirit, this is a cross-post from a friend and inspiration of mine, feminist vegan chocolatier extraordinaire, Lagusta. Lagusta reminds me every day that feminism should shape how we, women and men, identify ourselves and interact with the world, down to our marrow. Here Lagusta makes an argument for why International Women’s Day is not some happy holiday. Rather, IWD is a distraction from the work we still have ahead of us.
The truth is, a lot of my chocolates were created out of (F-ING!) rage. If you don’t like the vibes that puts out, not sure what I can do for you, for I believe in the power of rage. Deeply. I believe it’s transformative and helpful and kinda rad, actually.
Like today. International Women’s Day. Yay for women, amirite? Wooooo women! (F-!)
Oh my friends, this day fills me with rage. Much like MLK Day didn’t magically cure racism, Women’s Day is, to me, little more than window dressing on a huge giant mega elephant in the room polite company doesn’t want to bring up: women around the world and around the country are getting screwed over royally today, and every day, and every minute we’re silent about that fact—about how women do the majority of the world’s farming but own something like 1% of the world’s land, about the fact the World Health Organization estimates that at least one of every three women globally will be beaten, raped, or otherwise abused, that women earn less than men in 99% of occupations, I COULD GO ON!
Every minute we’re silent about these facts they (F-ING!) choke us.
But it’s all cool because we have THIS ONE DAY WHEN WE SALUTE WOMEN!
Not so cool, actually. Not cool, not cool at all. Actually kinda it fills me with mega-rage. And I know, having had this ragey thing for a long time, what to do with rage: channel it.
Fire can bend metal, you know? You get hot enough, you take your rage and you send it out into the world whitehot like a star and it SPARKLES. For light years that rage-star glows.
That’s how our chocolates come about, a lot. I get all worked up about something, and I self-soothe with the tempering machine, with beauty to combat ugliness. The world is so ugly, but I! Will! (F——IIINNNGGG) Fix! Everything!
At the end of the night I’ve made something nice. I feel calm. The world is orderly. I’ve created my own world, one of fairness and equity and beauty, beauty, beauty.
MLK would be turning over in his grave if he could see how far we still have to go on civil rights issues (don’t believe me? Read his works! They’re filled with radical rage!). And my feminist foremothers (Elizabeth Cady Stanton, I’m looking at you) would be shaking their heads if they could see the revolution they worked so hard for reduced to “Google celebrates International Women’s Day with a doodle of women from around the world.”
I’m sorry I’m not joining in this party. I’m too busy employing women, teaching them useful skills, and running my own business. Payroll is due, taxes due soon. I gotta figure out how much we can donate to a worthy cause this quarter.
I’m far, far too busy bringing about the feminist revolution to celebrate doodles.
(I wanna say here that to those people who work hard for women’s rights all year and take this day to celebrate their work: I salute YOU! You are amazing and sorry you’re even reading this. Take the day off, put your feet up!)