Thoughts from a Prostitute on Women's Day

Today was International Women's Day. It's celebrated all around the world with a lot of fanfare, though not as much in the U.S. The staple answer is because every day is "women's day" in America. It is also a governmental holiday so there was no school or work.

This morning in the middle of making pancakes I ran short of ingredients. So I set out to the store and not two blocks away encountered a group of boys in their late teens. As I walked by one of them yelled "red woman!" (prostitute) at me as his friends laughed and high-fived.

I was still thinking of cutting replies when I stumbled across one the sweetest women I know on her way to a friends house. "Happy Women's Day!" she exclaimed, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

All day I got text messages of congratulations and notes on facebook. Women called congratulations and holiday wishes across the streets to each other. Gifts of flowers, underwear, scarves, figurines and glassware were exchanged. I find myself grinning at just about every woman I pass.

All year women bring dinner and tea to men who never say thank you. Some are not allowed to work by their husbands and some are not even allowed to leave the house. There is statistical documentation that this is one country of many that have "missing daughters", meaning that there are statistically less girls born than should be, having been aborted after the ultrasound.

To paraphrase Julia, I'm not sure that saying "Happy Women's Day" and giving me a bottle of perfume makes up for that.

I've noticed that Women's Day is primarily celebrated by women themselves. The teachers get together and pitch in to throw themselves a party. Female friends give each other gifts (To be fair, I did get a lovely tea set from three of my seventh grade boys). A PCV friend said, "I like this better than what we do, because I may never get to be a mother", which is a good point.

And it really is an uplifting holiday. I saw genuine pride on the faces of women all weekend. It's like they know or hope that they are deserving, important, special and for the long weekend the answer is a resounding yes you are!

Which brings me back to the boy who called me a prostitute. Was he just trying to make sure I didn't get too uppity what with all the congratulations? Or maybe after 18 years of practice, it's just too hard to break the habit, even for one day.