Misogyny.
Until embarrassingly recently I barely knew what the word meant. I obviously knew about such a thing, but not by as fancy a word as that.
And then I couldn’t spell it, but its regular recurrence in the press and elsewhere, because it’s a thing that gets mentioned more and more, means I can spell it too. It’s easy to get wrong, rather like minuscule.
I wish the misogyny was minuscule.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have a problem with the sentiment that women can’t. I was brought up by a woman and I had no idea that women were less able.
Then there is Switzerland, which my prejudiced mind had down as a bit conservative, perhaps, but still a relatively modern European country, forgetting that women didn’t get the vote there until I was in my mid-teens. I forget that men my age – women too, for that matter – grew up with mothers who were not allowed to vote. Or open bank accounts without the permission of a man.
Two weeks ago there was a countrywide Swiss strike for women’s rights and equality. I first learned this from Daughter when she said ‘I’m on strike on Friday.’ Seems the university was pro-strike and simply checked who was going to take part. No docking of pay or anything.
Not the same elsewhere, though. But I suppose if it had been, there’d be less reason to strike. Though from where I’m sitting, it feels as if we have precious few strikes, about anything, so this Swiss strike was quite, well, forward.
The Occasional Bookwitch 