Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Pie and Postcards

On Sunday a few women gathered at my friend's house for what we ended up calling "Pie and Postcards." We sat around her kitchen table having Apple Mango Crisp with vanilla ice cream and coconut milk whipped cream. We were armed with pens, postcards and the addresses of our state senators.

After writing a couple cards each, we had our crisp and discussed various topics including the disgrace the president has brought to the United States of America, the disregard of people and the current administration toward the environment, women's rights now and how they were treated in the work place less than 50-70 years ago, current women's pay inequality, the refugee situation, the proposed wall and how we the American people are going to end up paying for it whatever the president says, arts and humanities funding (we were a group of artists), and reliable news sources. And in the background played songs of the sixties and seventies with an occasional protest song coming on.

My two finished postcards and a stack of new ones to continue my action.
Being the youngest in the group by a couple decades, I didn't have the memories of growing up when women were barely starting to be seen as equal. I sat and listened to the other women's stories, tossed something in when I could and felt hopeful, sad, frustrated, powerful and yet so small. I keep asking myself, "what can I, one woman from the northwoods of Wisconsin actually do? Actually accomplish? Will this really make any difference?" And I remind myself one spark can light a flame, one 'snowflake' can cause an avalanche, one raindrop a flood, one grain of rice can tip the scales, one postcard change a mind. And if each "one woman" (or supporters) adds her (their) voice, adds her postcards, her spark, her snowflake, her raindrop, her grain of rice, we can create a change greater than anyone could have imagined.

So I write my postcards, add my voice, and hope someone else out there does the same. I hope that all of those other "one woman" thoughts remember, thanks to the Women's March, that they are not alone, that they are not just one woman anymore, that we will join together in our efforts and cause an avalanche of information, a flood of postcards on every senator's desk and the president's desk. We will tip the scales and *keep our fires burning strong* to exact the change we are fighting for. And if we all keep going, we will make the changes we demand to see.

I started this right after the initial ban of refugees and immigrants was announced.
I'm not sure if I am going to finish it or not, I'm not comfortable with creating this
type of art.
*Please note, I do not advocate violence or violent actions in any form of protest. Please don't light any literal fires anywhere. I am speaking of the metaphorical internal fire in all of us, the fire of desire, the fire of justice, the fire of passion, the fire of soul and heart and mind. The divine spark. The creative spark. The more of those that get burning, the brighter we will be.*

8 comments:

  1. WAY TO GO, KATE!!!!! Love your passion and your writing and your thoughts!!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I didn't know I had them until this all started happening and it all started coming out.

      Delete
  2. It is so encouraging to see young women taking up the the banner - and in such a thoughtful and compassionate way. Yes, keep the fires burning bright. I love your thoughts about how one person can make a difference.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Your spirit inspires me Katlyn. I am Andrea's mother's cousin. I am not all THAT old, but have experienced:

    - my freshman and sophomore year in college at UW Madison women were required to live in dormitories. We had hours -- 11PM on week nights; 1AM on weekends. Men did not. Four years later when my sister started there she moved into a coed dorm.
    -- when I interviewed with Exxon on campus, the recruiter told me it was too bad I was not black, as that would have checked two boxes and I would have been offered a job. I was one of two women graduating from the School of Business that year.
    --- my first job was at a CPA firm. Women were required to wear skirts. We had to call the men "Mr. XXX". Women were all called by their first name.

    Indeed we have made progress. And I thank the women before me who fought for what was right and just. For women, for minorities, for the disabled, for refugees, for those in need, for open and transparent government, for those who are not able to speak for themselves. It is people like you who will make a difference. We may not see the difference in my lifetime or yours, but those that follow will. Just as I benefited from those before me. Keep up the good fight! And thank YOU!

    ~Lynn

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Lynn! One of the stories we talked about included the difference between a man being called Mr. XXX and the women being called by first name, the woman we were talking about specifically insisted on being called Mrs. XXX.

      It amazes me still how hard we have to work to earn respect that is given to men simply for being male. I was constantly doubted by male customers (and some females from the much older generations) as being able to do the work I had asked to do because I knew I could handle it. I was always told to "just leave it," "where are the boys?" "the guys should be doing this." Of course after I proved myself able they responded by offering me jobs on their construction crews, telling me I worked harder than the men they had, and other things that they probably thought complimentary, but I knew I had to work hard to be taken seriously.

      I intend to keep marching, keep writing, and keep fighting now that the blaze in me is burning. I can't seem to stay focused on anything else in fact.

      Delete
  4. Thank you, Katlyn for speaking out.

    ReplyDelete