Granted, I can't shoot a bow without some bruising, and I prefer protests that wrap up by late afternoon, so that I can get back home in time to make dinner.
But, still.
Still, I've given birth--twice! And had cancer, to boot. Plus, there's a limited-edition badass beer with my face on the label.
Oh, and I also have developed a super power in the past few years--invisibility. Which means you don't even see me anymore. And, while that can kind of suck at times, there are advantages to your limited vision of me.
So, yeah. Ignore me at your peril.
Actually, ignore us at your peril, you puffy, privileged white boys in Washington. You have seen nothing like the patience of a pissed off woman.
And, by the way, there are five million more of us than there are of you. Not to mention all of the good guys out there who stand with us, because they know a good thing when they see one.
Some folks have wondered why I'm retiring when I still love my job. In part, it's so that I can join the fight without fear of consequences. And I'm thinking there will be consequences . . . .
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