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08 March 2012

Women? What women?

I'm not wishing you any Happy March the 8th. I hate this day, it's useless. Because if you have interests, there must be something else more important than them. For if a man can say I'm sorry but I've got something to do and forgets an anniversary, a child's birthday party, a woman can't. Or better, she can, but by paying a price for it.

Things get worse in other parts of the world, where women are in more serious need. We should think about it rather than going out being ridiculous and celebrate what? Come on!


The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.

I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.

But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.

The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.

I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.

And still we rise.

Million Man March Poem, by Maya Angelou


  1. I on the other hand celebrate this day for what the women accomplished so far. It is sad that we have to celebrate earning our rights but thinking about women, who still have to fight for their rights won't change one thing: it's doing something about it that might.

  2. I know and I can agree to a certain extent, but we've achieved so far is still little. Our rights are stilld rops in the ocean so I can feel like celebratin only later on. And you're right, it's unfair that we've to celebrate, as this should be for granted.


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