In the early 1940s, when nearly 16 million of our nation’s men went to war, the women of America stepped up to fill the jobs that had traditionally been held by men. Women worked with engineers, built planes, and yes, Rosie even riveted.
In 2017 the men had their chance to stand-in when the women-folk all went to … Washington. Or maybe just downtown.
This is not to belittle the hard work of the women (and men and children) who marched last weekend in the name of equality, love, and generally not being cheeto-faced assholes. It was certainly not war, but it was an important moment in history nonetheless.
The New York Times, however, seems to think we all disappeared to another country for months, not just on the #7 bus to the next town over.
The article, “How Vital Are Women? This Town Found Out as They Left to March” is a pat on the back for the men who so bravely held down the fort, in some instances for two whole days. I think it was meant to be an ode to all we women do on a daily basis — when in reality it just made the men seem semi-inept.
Routines were radically altered, and many fathers tried to meet weekend demands alone for a change. By participating in the marches and highlighting the importance of women’s rights, the women also demonstrated, in towns like Montclair, their importance just by their absence.
The poor men had to take kids to soccer practice, birthday parties, and even had to *gasp*, feed them. There is a picture of a father helping his daughter into her coat. Someone give that dude a fucking trophy. Another dad managed to both feed his kid leftover pizza and clean the fridge. Actually, I am pretty impressed by the fridge part.
How ridiculous would this sound if the roles were reversed?
But for fuck’s sake. The women left for an afternoon and the men get an entire New York Times article written about them?!
I once peed in a mall bathroom while wearing my infant in a carrier. I used to regularly pump breast milk, feed my premature son a bottle, eat a sandwich, and answer inane questions from my five-year-old. At the same time.
And yet, if I want an article, I have to write it myself.
