![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2iDKblQ:
satinsneakers:
I read all these scripts by male writers where the female characters worry about getting older. The funny thing is, most of the women I’ve encountered have been HAPPY to get older. They have more money. They have more knowledge. They know how to say no, fuck off and this is bullshit. They no longer have to deal with periods and can have sex without worrying about getting pregnant. They don’t have children to care for so they can do whatever the fuck they want.
In a society that only values women for their looks, I can see how male writers would think that getting older is the worst thing that can happen to a woman. A woman gets old and she is no longer fuckable. A woman gets old and men don’t want to ogle her anymore. (I type this as I’m being ogled at the intersection of Hollywood & Highland.)
However, when I think of older women, I think of Harriet Tubman, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Hillary Clinton, Sonia Sotomayor, Meryl Streep, Jessica Lange and Judy Dench. I think of my cousins and aunt who own their own homes. I think of my mother who handles our family investments, my grandfather’s girlfriend still working as a computer programmer, my Nana and the small business she owns and operates. I think of my boyfriend’s mother who was like, I’m going to France for 3 months, bye bitches.
Getting older isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a woman, it’s her best kept secret.
#round here i see little gangs of old ladies#who have presumably outlived their husbands#and who hang out drinking coffee together all day #often with a dog#and honestly hashtag Squad Goals via @deputychairman
I’m just interjecting unnecessarily into this post to relate that my dude’s mother (my mother-out-law, since we’re not married) and her closest friends are all widows. There’s a group of three of them (four, now?) all widowed at various points, and they call themselves The Widdas. (Local accent.)
M-O-L has a magnetic-backed ceramic tile whiteboard on her fridge where she writes out her week’s to-do list. At one point I was over there and she’d written a number of things on it in her lovely, looping, elementary-school-teacher handwriting. One of them, I now know, was a reminder to herself to go to a blood drive and donate blood. The next one was a reminder of her weekly dinner date with The Widdas.
But in the moment I saw it, it just meant that there was a white ceramic tile on her fridge with black looping handwriting that read “BLOOD WIDDAS” and someday I am going to be cool enough to be in a gang called BLOOD WIDDAS.
(Your picture was not posted)
satinsneakers:
I read all these scripts by male writers where the female characters worry about getting older. The funny thing is, most of the women I’ve encountered have been HAPPY to get older. They have more money. They have more knowledge. They know how to say no, fuck off and this is bullshit. They no longer have to deal with periods and can have sex without worrying about getting pregnant. They don’t have children to care for so they can do whatever the fuck they want.
In a society that only values women for their looks, I can see how male writers would think that getting older is the worst thing that can happen to a woman. A woman gets old and she is no longer fuckable. A woman gets old and men don’t want to ogle her anymore. (I type this as I’m being ogled at the intersection of Hollywood & Highland.)
However, when I think of older women, I think of Harriet Tubman, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Hillary Clinton, Sonia Sotomayor, Meryl Streep, Jessica Lange and Judy Dench. I think of my cousins and aunt who own their own homes. I think of my mother who handles our family investments, my grandfather’s girlfriend still working as a computer programmer, my Nana and the small business she owns and operates. I think of my boyfriend’s mother who was like, I’m going to France for 3 months, bye bitches.
Getting older isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a woman, it’s her best kept secret.
#round here i see little gangs of old ladies#who have presumably outlived their husbands#and who hang out drinking coffee together all day #often with a dog#and honestly hashtag Squad Goals via @deputychairman
I’m just interjecting unnecessarily into this post to relate that my dude’s mother (my mother-out-law, since we’re not married) and her closest friends are all widows. There’s a group of three of them (four, now?) all widowed at various points, and they call themselves The Widdas. (Local accent.)
M-O-L has a magnetic-backed ceramic tile whiteboard on her fridge where she writes out her week’s to-do list. At one point I was over there and she’d written a number of things on it in her lovely, looping, elementary-school-teacher handwriting. One of them, I now know, was a reminder to herself to go to a blood drive and donate blood. The next one was a reminder of her weekly dinner date with The Widdas.
But in the moment I saw it, it just meant that there was a white ceramic tile on her fridge with black looping handwriting that read “BLOOD WIDDAS” and someday I am going to be cool enough to be in a gang called BLOOD WIDDAS.
(Your picture was not posted)
