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Victimhood drek

Last night as a favor to one of my companions, I looked at some work her friend was doing.

I won’t mention organizations here. But gods, what drek!

It’s the whole victimhood thing again.

I knew my first strong woman from before I was born. When she didn’t like something, she didn’t protest. She did. If that didn’t work, she tried again.

Despite people telling her that she couldn’t do things because she was a woman.

Despite people telling her not to worry her pretty little head about it.

Despite making some pretty big mistakes.

My mother showed them. And she showed herself.

She’s retired now, for the fourth time.

But while others of her generation were out protesting, she was working quietly to change the world. At least her little part of it.

She didn’t do it by being a victim.

She did it by trying again and again until it worked.

I could tell you stories. Like how she graduated in two and a half years while on the Dean’s list and holding a full time job. And how the college didn’t want to let her graduate because they didn’t believe she had done it.

I could tell you how she once lectured her boss on workplace discrimination and won. It seemed the men were being paid more than the women.

I could tell you how she raised four kids including three stepkids that were literally dumped on her doorstep.

But mostly I’ll tell you how she doesn’t take guff from anyone. And how when I tell her what some woman do in the name of feminism, she just shakes her head.

It’s no wonder I like strong women.

And it’s no wonder I can’t stand the “professional victim.”

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