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International Women's Day: where are we?

I popped into school this morning, with the aim of getting some soundbites (well markerboardbites) about gratitude in preparation for Sunday’s service (more of that later, or never.. )

It was snowing and so I ended up being a spare pair of hands with a year five class for an hour. It was a lot of fun- I really enjoy being around that age range. 

As the remnants of the class appeared from bus and abortive car journeys there were various activities going on in the room; games, a new dance (called the Floss, which I have already consigned to the pile of co-ordinated movements that I will never get the hang of), word searches and some drawing.

It was the drawing that caught my attention. Three girls, all focused and ready to go were setting themselves a fifteen minute time limit. “What for?” I asked. “For our princess drawing competition”, came the reply.

Now those of you who know me, will know that a) that made my soul a little bit sad, and b) how much hard work it was to poker face it out.

I must have done OK, because as I was getting ready to go, the girls wanted me to wait for a moment so they could give me the pictures.

Here they are.



But this isn’t entirely about that. There was a third picture. Actually, it was a set of two. In the one on the left there was a princess (I think discernible by its Disney princess shape, with a Manga edge to it).  She was wearing ‘fighting wear’ and holding a sword. I asked the artist, what’s that about? 

“Well, she’s a princess, but she doesn’t like all the dressing up stuff, she wants to be a bit like Brave, that she can look after herself”.

The second picture on the page was of the same princess in a long dress, equally beautifully drawn.

You might ask why I don’t have a picture.

Well, I had the conversation about twelve minutes into the time I was there. When I returned a little later, the drawings were there but with- “fail” written in black ink underneath.

“What’s happened?”

“Oh, I ruined it with the black ink”.

It’s a silly story. Be assured I did all the things one does when you want to encourage a clear talent.

I mooched home in the snow somewhat heavy of heart. I feel a bit like this whole little tale might be a window to where I think we are on International Women’s Day.

Some of us are Brave and Beyond. We eschew the world of princesses and male privilege, seeking justice, equity and inclusion. I wonder if the challenge to us is to pull our horns in when our sisters are not in the same place as us on the journey. The princess drawings will go up in my study as I try to remember that not everyone has to think alike. I cannot be tyrannically progressive.

Some of us are getting brave, torn like my year five student between the world where we want to imagine something different, and the norms of princess drawing. I see the norms getting wider, as glass ceilings shatter and we take tiny steps to wage equality. I want it to go faster but perhaps I should celebrate its direction rather than its speed.

Above all, my prayer is that all of us will get brave. I pray that we will each have confidence to move to a place where the smudge of black ink (actually not good enough equipment, with a drawing pen it would have worked), doesn’t spiral us out of difference, originality and courage. I pray that girls and women all over the world will be resilient (as we ever have been) as we pursue life in all its dimensions and fullness.

And my other prayer is this: the girls were the first to start drawing. By the time I left a couple of the lads had picked up pencils. Their subject? Swords. Bloodied swords.

On this International Women’s Day we remember that whilst there has been much progress, two women each week in the UK are killed as a consequence of domestic violence. Lest I rail, thirty men a year are also killed. We don’t have to look far to know that there is an ongoing battle for the soul of maleness. My prayer is that women will not feel that they too have to raise swords to redress wrongs but that somehow we might move forward in acknowledgement that we are each precious, intended and delighted in. It is not, nor will not be easy, but may we be brave.



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