We still have half the month of March left on the calendar. So much is already behind us.
March 8 the world celebrated International Women’s Day. Imagine that: a special day to honor women. This started in 1941, and in 1975 the United Nations embraced the concept and even declared it the Decade of the Woman.
All over the world, parades, conferences, debates and other activities mark March as international women’s month. The thrust of these celebrations is to focus on the improvement of health care, enhance education, eradicate poverty and guarantee equality and human rights for the women of all nations, in every corner of the world.
In recent years these mammoth gatherings have included and tackled issues on abortion and sexual preference. In the United States, this year’s slogan is “Inspiring Change.”
Someone wonders why, in spite of the immense global popularity of these events, Hallmark has not come out with a greeting card. Isn’t that funny? In the United States, there is a card, or at least an e-greeting, for every occasion.
If there were one, what would it say? Maybe it could carry all or part of Mahatma Gandhi’s beautiful statement in his 1930 speech “To the Women of India.”
He said: “To call woman the weaker sex is a libel; it is man’s injustice to woman. If by strength is meant brute strength, then, indeed, is woman less brute than man. If by strength is meant moral power, then woman is immeasurably man’s superior. Has she not greater intuition, is she not more self-sacrificing, has she not greater powers of endurance, has she not greater courage? Without her, man could not be.
If nonviolence is the law of our being, the future is with woman. Who can make a more effective appeal to the heart than woman?”
No distinction
I have thought about the significance of this celebration, and after mulling in my mind who or what in a woman we should commemorate, have happily realized that this month salutes every woman, with no distinction of station in life, or level of achievement. Isn’t that wonderful?
Does anyone remember slam books? Do they still have them? When I was in high school they were the craze. The more books you were asked to write on, the more popular you were supposed to be.
The book asked about your favorites: color, actor, actress, movie, song, book. Giggling and giddy we compared our “favorites” with those of our special friends or our crushes. It was a way of figuring out if we were “in tune” with one another.
There was also a space to fill under favorite woman, or ideal woman. The answers were varied, and sometimes ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.
Once when I was about 12, I wrote in “Joan of Arc.” No, I was not hearing voices, and neither did I relish the thought of being burned at the stake. I guess after seeing Ingrid Bergman play the role, I was inspired. Later on it was Esther Williams. But I couldn’t swim a stroke. Go figure.
Today when I think of the woman I admire, my mother comes to mind. She was, indeed, one of a kind. Gentle, kind, funny, talented, gifted with a voice like the flow of diamonds and with a heart of gold. Mama was gone too soon.
And then I think of my friend Violeta. Married at an early age and disowned by a disapproving wealthy family, she took care of her ailing husband, raised their eight children in New Jersey, put them through school by cleaning houses, cooking meals, selling knives, pots and pans, and taking buses and the subway to get around.
And when she came home just a few years ago, she was a widow who people thought was ready to retire. Instead, she set up her own little home and had enough left in her to start life anew, even to dance. She does not know it, but from her I have drawn strength, inspiration and a deep appreciation for life.
I firmly believe that any woman who has the courage to face life in a world dominated by men and excel in that competitive arena, who has the strength to become a single mother, carry the weight of her family, and cater to their needs by putting them above her own deserves at the very least a day that gives her honor.
In the words of Diane Mariechild: “A woman is the full circle. Within her is the power to create, nurture and transform.”
Endings and beginnings
I am almost at the end of my Australian visit. It has been a wonderfully sentimental few weeks. Digging into stories of one’s forebears is not easy. But there is such a high in discovering even just a trace of a generation long gone.
When one is on a search for roots, even the seemingly unimportant or the least relevant anecdote can become a clue, a lead, a footprint that one can follow. It is all very
exciting.
I am in Queensland. Arrived here Wednesday afternoon. There were puffs of white clouds as we landed. The sun was shining and the sky was blue.
A lovely breeze greeted me as I left the plane. It had the deliciously familiar feel of a trade wind, the kind that used to lull me to sleep some nights in Hawaii Kai many moons ago. It made me happy, a bit weepy and a lot homesick.
