Can I tell you all a terrible secret?
I graduated from Mills College in 1995.
In 1990, as some of you may recall, the Mills College board decided to admit men to the Mills undergraduate program, and the women on campus went 'on strike', and managed to force the board to reverse their decision.
When I was at Mills, tales of the strike were still fresh. "There was a revolution," one popular little handbill read, "We showed up, there was childcare, we cleaned up after ourselves, and we won. We won!"
This spring is the 20th anniversary of the strike.
I have been getting Facebook items and such, honoring, nay CANONIZING the strike and the strikers.
"I didn't really understand how important it was back then," one of my college friends comments.
This is my terrible secret: I just don't really care about the Mills College Strike of 1990.
It's not that I don't appreciate it. I think women's colleges are a fine thing. It's not that I disagree with the basic point of the strike in any real way.
I just have never been able to get nearly as starry-eyed as many, hell ALL of my Mills friends about it. It happened. I'm happy Mills is still a women's college. But the strike isn't one of my guiding stories about Woman Power. I really, truly, do not get a warm fuzzy glow just thinking about it.
Something is wrong with me.
3 comments:
the warm fuzzy glow is more easily achieved with alcohol!
welcome to normality!
Maybe because you weren't there for our first two years? I dont know. Because you're certainly capable of warm fuzzy glows. Seen em.
Hey, babe!
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