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Tuesday, Feb. 19, marks the half-century anniversary of the publication of a book that changed women's lives. The book was "The Feminine Mystique," written by Smith College graduate Betty Friedan.
Herself a housewife drowning in domesticity, Friedan wrote the truth about the lives of American middle-class housewives buried under a pile of laundry.
"I came to realize that something is very wrong with the way American women are trying to live their lives today," she wrote.
I was only 7 when the book came out, but I remember the shock of its bright pink cover, knowing from my mother's reaction that the book was something momentous.
As one of the only mothers in our neighborhood who worked outside the home, my mother, now 86, remembers the collective sense of relief women felt in 1963 that someone was finally naming "the problem that had no name."
A friend of mine, Phyllis, 81, recalls being hunkered down in a small house with two babies and crying with recognition as she read "The Feminine Mystique." Phyllis, by the way, went on to have a full professional career, and my mother is still running a feminist charity.
It's hard not to write personally about Friedan, because her book, although thoroughly documenting women's societal straitjacket, was profoundly personal.
At 14, I got to meet her at a national convention of an abortion rights group she helped co-found.
The youngest person there, and wearing a fetching new velvet dress, I felt both pleased and nonplussed when Betty kindly complimented me as looking "very feminine."
But that was Betty Friedan: warm, enthusiastic, sometimes maddeningly paradoxical, larger than life.
In turn, I read "The Feminine Mystique" in my women's studies classes in the late 1970s, already a beneficiary of the early women's movement and a half-generation removed from the stultifying "wife and mother" roles prescribed for women in the 1950s and 1960s.
Like many young feminists in the 1980s, I felt Friedan's writing became too cautious, chiding and conservative, yet she remained a scrappy fighter, challenging the feminist backlash.
After writing "The Feminine Mystique," she became a founding mother of the National Organization for Women in 1966, serving as its first president, a founder of the National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws in 1969, and with Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug and others, a co-founder of the National Women's Political Caucus in 1971.
She died seven years ago this month at 85, knowing her book had awakened a generation of women and their daughters, and helped open up a world of opportunity, respect and rights too long denied.
Women of the world unite! As Betty liked to say: "You have nothing to lose but your vacuum cleaners."
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Tuesday, Feb. 19, marks the half-century anniversary of the publication of a book that changed women's lives. The book was "The Feminine Mystique," written by Smith College graduate Betty Friedan.
Herself a housewife drowning in domesticity, Friedan wrote the truth about the lives of American middle-class housewives buried under a pile of laundry.
"I came to realize that something is very wrong with the way American women are trying to live their lives today," she wrote.
I was only 7 when the book came out, but I remember the shock of its bright pink cover, knowing from my mother's reaction that the book was something momentous.
As one of the only mothers in our neighborhood who worked outside the home, my mother, now 86, remembers the collective sense of relief women felt in 1963 that someone was finally naming "the problem that had no name."
A friend of mine, Phyllis, 81, recalls being hunkered down in a small house with two babies and crying with recognition as she read "The Feminine Mystique." Phyllis, by the way, went on to have a full professional career, and my mother is still running a feminist charity.
It's hard not to write personally about Friedan, because her book, although thoroughly documenting women's societal straitjacket, was profoundly personal.
At 14, I got to meet her at a national convention of an abortion rights group she helped co-found.
The youngest person there, and wearing a fetching new velvet dress, I felt both pleased and nonplussed when Betty kindly complimented me as looking "very feminine."
But that was Betty Friedan: warm, enthusiastic, sometimes maddeningly paradoxical, larger than life.
In turn, I read "The Feminine Mystique" in my women's studies classes in the late 1970s, already a beneficiary of the early women's movement and a half-generation removed from the stultifying "wife and mother" roles prescribed for women in the 1950s and 1960s.
Like many young feminists in the 1980s, I felt Friedan's writing became too cautious, chiding and conservative, yet she remained a scrappy fighter, challenging the feminist backlash.
After writing "The Feminine Mystique," she became a founding mother of the National Organization for Women in 1966, serving as its first president, a founder of the National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws in 1969, and with Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug and others, a co-founder of the National Women's Political Caucus in 1971.
She died seven years ago this month at 85, knowing her book had awakened a generation of women and their daughters, and helped open up a world of opportunity, respect and rights too long denied.
Women of the world unite! As Betty liked to say: "You have nothing to lose but your vacuum cleaners."
Tuesday, Feb. 19, marks the half-century anniversary of the publication of a book that changed women's lives. The book was "The Feminine Mystique," written by Smith College graduate Betty Friedan.
Herself a housewife drowning in domesticity, Friedan wrote the truth about the lives of American middle-class housewives buried under a pile of laundry.
"I came to realize that something is very wrong with the way American women are trying to live their lives today," she wrote.
I was only 7 when the book came out, but I remember the shock of its bright pink cover, knowing from my mother's reaction that the book was something momentous.
As one of the only mothers in our neighborhood who worked outside the home, my mother, now 86, remembers the collective sense of relief women felt in 1963 that someone was finally naming "the problem that had no name."
A friend of mine, Phyllis, 81, recalls being hunkered down in a small house with two babies and crying with recognition as she read "The Feminine Mystique." Phyllis, by the way, went on to have a full professional career, and my mother is still running a feminist charity.
It's hard not to write personally about Friedan, because her book, although thoroughly documenting women's societal straitjacket, was profoundly personal.
At 14, I got to meet her at a national convention of an abortion rights group she helped co-found.
The youngest person there, and wearing a fetching new velvet dress, I felt both pleased and nonplussed when Betty kindly complimented me as looking "very feminine."
But that was Betty Friedan: warm, enthusiastic, sometimes maddeningly paradoxical, larger than life.
In turn, I read "The Feminine Mystique" in my women's studies classes in the late 1970s, already a beneficiary of the early women's movement and a half-generation removed from the stultifying "wife and mother" roles prescribed for women in the 1950s and 1960s.
Like many young feminists in the 1980s, I felt Friedan's writing became too cautious, chiding and conservative, yet she remained a scrappy fighter, challenging the feminist backlash.
After writing "The Feminine Mystique," she became a founding mother of the National Organization for Women in 1966, serving as its first president, a founder of the National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws in 1969, and with Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug and others, a co-founder of the National Women's Political Caucus in 1971.
She died seven years ago this month at 85, knowing her book had awakened a generation of women and their daughters, and helped open up a world of opportunity, respect and rights too long denied.
Women of the world unite! As Betty liked to say: "You have nothing to lose but your vacuum cleaners."