Tomorrow, says my wall calendar, is International Women’s Day.
Blimey if I know what that means.
I mean, I’m a woman. I was born one, and never changed. I’m
also inter-national. I hold dual citizenships, and I was born with that, also.
I’ve lived in different countries, and I speak more than one language.
So it’s my day, right?
I dun’ know. Why am I not feeling it?
©Noam Nadav
It occurred to me that the powers who declared this celebration
could have done a better job to mark it. For the likes of me, who would rather
eat soap than go to rah-rah marches, here are some of the celebratory ways I could relate
to:
*On
International Women’s Day— all stores shall sell all products designed to
be used by women at half the price. And you’d have to be a woman to buy such.
*On
International Women’s Day— every person who is not a woman will salute every
woman they pass. Better yet, they’d bow down.
*On
International Women’s Day— it will be mandatory to have free chocolate truffles
dispensaries at every street corner for women only, and you’d get fined using it if you don’t,
at the very least, look the part.
Now that^ would be a day to celebrate being a woman.
Until, and when, those who declare holidays in the land come
to see the wisdom of my suggestions, I will celebrate International HUMAN Day instead.
P.S.
Don’t mind me. Have fun.
