Celebrating Women's History Month
- Thread starter daughter
- Start date
G
Guest
Guest
History in March
March 4, 1933:
Frances Perkins is sworn in as Secretary of Labor, first woman in U.S. cabinet.
March 4, 1933:
Frances Perkins is sworn in as Secretary of Labor, first woman in U.S. cabinet.
CelestialBody
Starlet of India
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daughter
Dreamer
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Links for Women's History
This page provides serveral links. The sidebar provides a weekly quiz and reference titles.
Women's History Month
Peace,
daughter
This page provides serveral links. The sidebar provides a weekly quiz and reference titles.
Women's History Month
Peace,
daughter
Last edited:
daughter
Dreamer
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- Posts
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Brief sketch
Maya Lin
Born October 5, 1959
Athens, Ohio
Asian American architect
And sculptor
Designed the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
“I love architecture and I love sculpture….
Sculpture to me is like poetry, and architecture
Is like prose.”
See Prominent Women of the 20th Century UXL Imprint, Gale Group
Maya Lin
Born October 5, 1959
Athens, Ohio
Asian American architect
And sculptor
Designed the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
“I love architecture and I love sculpture….
Sculpture to me is like poetry, and architecture
Is like prose.”
See Prominent Women of the 20th Century UXL Imprint, Gale Group
MysticSwing
"Pole" Dancin'
- Joined
- Sep 11, 2001
- Posts
- 2,983
Celebrate Your Magical Inner Light
~~ by Meadowdancer
Surrender to your feelings of magic
deep inside,
Allow an explosion of searching to
come alive do not hide!
Take out the spiritual garbage
acquired through the years,
Banish all those painful hurts
not shedding any tears.
Love who you are and what you're
meant to be,
Letting others have all the light
of love in your inner sea.
Customize your beliefs and faith
to a song you can sing,
Meditate more freely for peace
it will bring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
http://www.womanlinks.com/
~~Mystic
~~ by Meadowdancer
Surrender to your feelings of magic
deep inside,
Allow an explosion of searching to
come alive do not hide!
Take out the spiritual garbage
acquired through the years,
Banish all those painful hurts
not shedding any tears.
Love who you are and what you're
meant to be,
Letting others have all the light
of love in your inner sea.
Customize your beliefs and faith
to a song you can sing,
Meditate more freely for peace
it will bring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
http://www.womanlinks.com/
~~Mystic
Isabella Thorne
Saucy Ambassador of Tarty Foreign Affairs
- Joined
- May 5, 2000
- Posts
- 3,084
Canadian Poet Margaret Atwood ...
... On Writing Poetry (Waterstone’s Poetry Lecture)
Delivered at Hay On Wye, Wales, June 1995.
... Here then is the official version of my life as a poet:
I was once a snub-nosed blonde. My name was Betty. I had a perky personality and was a cheerleader for the college football team. My favourite colour was pink. Then I became a poet. My hair darkened overnight, my nose lengthened, I gave up football for the cello, my real name disappeared and was replaced by one that had a chance of being taken seriously by the literati, and my clothes changed colour in the closet, all by themselves, from pink to black. I stopped humming the songs from Oklahoma and began quoting Kirkegaard. And not only that – all of my high heeled shoes lost their heels, and were magically transformed into sandals. Needless to say, my many boyfriends took one look at this and ran screaming from the scene as if their toenails were on fire. New ones replaced them; they all had beards.
Believe it or not, there is an element of truth in this story. It’s the bit about the name, which was not Betty but something equally non-poetic, and with the same number of letters. It’s also the bit about the boyfriends. But meanwhile, here is the real truth:
I became a poet at the age of sixteen. I did not intend to do it. It was not my fault.
Allow me to set the scene for you. The year was 1956. Elvis Presley had just appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, from the waist up. At school dances, which were held in the gymnasium and smelled like armpits, the dance with the most charisma was rock’n’roll. The approved shoes were saddle shoes and white bucks, the evening gowns were strapless, if you could manage it; they had crinolined skirts that made you look like half a cabbage with a little radish head. Girls were forbidden to wear jeans to school, except on football days, when they sat on the hill to watch, and it was feared that the boys would be able to see up their dresses unless they wore pants. TV dinners had just been invented.
None of this – you might think, and rightly – was conducive to the production of poetry. If someone had told me a year previously that I would suddenly turn into a poet, I would have giggled. Yet this is what did happen.
I was in my fourth year of high school. The high school was in Toronto, which in the year 1956 was still known as Toronto the Good because of its puritanical liquor laws. It had a population of six hundred and fifty thousand, five hundred and nine people at the time, and was a synonym for bland propriety. The high school I attended was also a synonym for bland propriety, and although it has produced a steady stream of chartered accountants and one cabinet minister, no other poets have ever emerged from it, before or since.
The day I became a poet was a sunny day of no particular ominousness. I was walking across the football field, not because I was sports-minded or had plans to smoke a cigarette behind the field house – the only other reason for going there – but because this was my normal way home from school. I was scuttling along in my usual furtive way, suspecting no ill, when a large invisible thumb descended from the sky and pressed down on the top of my head. A poem formed. It was quite a gloomy poem: the poems of the young usually are. It was a gift, this poem – a gift from an anonymous donor, and, as such, both exciting and sisnister at the same time.
I suspect this is the way all poets begin writing poetry, only they don’t want to admit it, so they make up more rational explanations. But this is the true explanation, and I defy anyone to disprove it.
The poem that I composed on that eventful day, although entirely without merit or even promise, did have some features. It rhymed and scanned, because we had been taught rhyming and scansion at school. It resembled the poetry of Lord Byron and Edgar Allan Poe, with a little Shelley and Keats thrown in.
The fact is that at the time I became a poet, I had read very few poems written after the year 1900. I knew nothing of modernism or free verse. These were not the only things I knew nothing of. I had no idea, for instance, that I was about to step into a whole set of preconceptions and social roles which had to do with what poets were like, how they should behave, and what they ought to wear; moreover, I did not know that the rules about these things were different if you were female. I did not know that “poetess” was an insult, and that I myself would some day be called one. I did not know that to be told I had transcended my gender would be considered a compliment. I didn’t know – yet – that black was compulsory. All of that was in the future.
When I was sixteen, it was simple. Poetry existed; therefore it could be written; and nobody had told me – yet – the many, many reasons why it could not be written by me."
... On Writing Poetry (Waterstone’s Poetry Lecture)
Delivered at Hay On Wye, Wales, June 1995.
... Here then is the official version of my life as a poet:
I was once a snub-nosed blonde. My name was Betty. I had a perky personality and was a cheerleader for the college football team. My favourite colour was pink. Then I became a poet. My hair darkened overnight, my nose lengthened, I gave up football for the cello, my real name disappeared and was replaced by one that had a chance of being taken seriously by the literati, and my clothes changed colour in the closet, all by themselves, from pink to black. I stopped humming the songs from Oklahoma and began quoting Kirkegaard. And not only that – all of my high heeled shoes lost their heels, and were magically transformed into sandals. Needless to say, my many boyfriends took one look at this and ran screaming from the scene as if their toenails were on fire. New ones replaced them; they all had beards.
Believe it or not, there is an element of truth in this story. It’s the bit about the name, which was not Betty but something equally non-poetic, and with the same number of letters. It’s also the bit about the boyfriends. But meanwhile, here is the real truth:
I became a poet at the age of sixteen. I did not intend to do it. It was not my fault.
Allow me to set the scene for you. The year was 1956. Elvis Presley had just appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, from the waist up. At school dances, which were held in the gymnasium and smelled like armpits, the dance with the most charisma was rock’n’roll. The approved shoes were saddle shoes and white bucks, the evening gowns were strapless, if you could manage it; they had crinolined skirts that made you look like half a cabbage with a little radish head. Girls were forbidden to wear jeans to school, except on football days, when they sat on the hill to watch, and it was feared that the boys would be able to see up their dresses unless they wore pants. TV dinners had just been invented.
None of this – you might think, and rightly – was conducive to the production of poetry. If someone had told me a year previously that I would suddenly turn into a poet, I would have giggled. Yet this is what did happen.
I was in my fourth year of high school. The high school was in Toronto, which in the year 1956 was still known as Toronto the Good because of its puritanical liquor laws. It had a population of six hundred and fifty thousand, five hundred and nine people at the time, and was a synonym for bland propriety. The high school I attended was also a synonym for bland propriety, and although it has produced a steady stream of chartered accountants and one cabinet minister, no other poets have ever emerged from it, before or since.
The day I became a poet was a sunny day of no particular ominousness. I was walking across the football field, not because I was sports-minded or had plans to smoke a cigarette behind the field house – the only other reason for going there – but because this was my normal way home from school. I was scuttling along in my usual furtive way, suspecting no ill, when a large invisible thumb descended from the sky and pressed down on the top of my head. A poem formed. It was quite a gloomy poem: the poems of the young usually are. It was a gift, this poem – a gift from an anonymous donor, and, as such, both exciting and sisnister at the same time.
I suspect this is the way all poets begin writing poetry, only they don’t want to admit it, so they make up more rational explanations. But this is the true explanation, and I defy anyone to disprove it.
The poem that I composed on that eventful day, although entirely without merit or even promise, did have some features. It rhymed and scanned, because we had been taught rhyming and scansion at school. It resembled the poetry of Lord Byron and Edgar Allan Poe, with a little Shelley and Keats thrown in.
The fact is that at the time I became a poet, I had read very few poems written after the year 1900. I knew nothing of modernism or free verse. These were not the only things I knew nothing of. I had no idea, for instance, that I was about to step into a whole set of preconceptions and social roles which had to do with what poets were like, how they should behave, and what they ought to wear; moreover, I did not know that the rules about these things were different if you were female. I did not know that “poetess” was an insult, and that I myself would some day be called one. I did not know that to be told I had transcended my gender would be considered a compliment. I didn’t know – yet – that black was compulsory. All of that was in the future.
When I was sixteen, it was simple. Poetry existed; therefore it could be written; and nobody had told me – yet – the many, many reasons why it could not be written by me."
Isabella Thorne
Saucy Ambassador of Tarty Foreign Affairs
- Joined
- May 5, 2000
- Posts
- 3,084
The ballad of Lucy Jordan ...
British singer Marianne Faithfull - well known in the '60s as "The Girl in the Fur Skin Rug" - and g/f to Mick Jagger .... eventually grew into her own ... and became a strong song writer in later years <after battling drug addiction> ....
This song is truly one of my faves ... i feel she captures the yearnings of women everywhere ...
______________________________
The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.
At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair ...
~Marianne Faithfull~
British singer Marianne Faithfull - well known in the '60s as "The Girl in the Fur Skin Rug" - and g/f to Mick Jagger .... eventually grew into her own ... and became a strong song writer in later years <after battling drug addiction> ....
This song is truly one of my faves ... i feel she captures the yearnings of women everywhere ...
______________________________
The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.
At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair ...
~Marianne Faithfull~
Last edited:
daughter
Dreamer
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2001
- Posts
- 1,561
Women's History Quiz
She helped bring provisions to soldiers on the front lines and set up the Bureau of Records.
This choreographer is to modern dance what Pablo Picasso was to modern art: the single greatest innovator of this century. Her name has become synonymous with modern dance in America. Her career spanned four decades and earned her the Medal of Freedom and the French Legion of Honor.
This cosmonaut was the first woman in space, orbiting the earth 48 times in the Vostok VI in 1963. Who is she?
The "Jane Roe" in the famous Roe v. Wade trial later revealed her true identity as?
Peace,
daughter
Courtesy of Gale group Check the link previously given for answers.
She helped bring provisions to soldiers on the front lines and set up the Bureau of Records.
This choreographer is to modern dance what Pablo Picasso was to modern art: the single greatest innovator of this century. Her name has become synonymous with modern dance in America. Her career spanned four decades and earned her the Medal of Freedom and the French Legion of Honor.
This cosmonaut was the first woman in space, orbiting the earth 48 times in the Vostok VI in 1963. Who is she?
The "Jane Roe" in the famous Roe v. Wade trial later revealed her true identity as?
Peace,
daughter
Courtesy of Gale group Check the link previously given for answers.
Isabella Thorne
Saucy Ambassador of Tarty Foreign Affairs
- Joined
- May 5, 2000
- Posts
- 3,084
Blind love for my father was the first thing I sacrificed to Mick Jagger
Patti Smith used to write erotic rock journalism for 'Creem' in the early-70s when it was still a cool underground magazine ... here's a bit of one she wrote about the first time she saw the Rolling Stones on TV. She's got a distinctive experimental style - always using lower-case letters - that she borrowed off Bob Dylan & the Beat writers.
The Rise of the Sacred Monsters
by Patti Lee Smith
I was scared silly. there was pa glued to the TV screen cussing his brains out. a rock'n'roll band was doing it right on the Ed Sullivan Show. Pa was frothing like a dog. I never seen him so mad. but I lost contact with him quick. that band was as relentless as murder. I was trapped in a field of hot dots. the guitar player had pimples. the blonde kneeling down had cicles ringing his eyes. one had greasy hair. the other didn't care.
and the singer was showing his second layer of skin and more than a little milk. I felt thru his pants with optic x-ray. this was some hard meat. this was a bitch. five white boys sexy as any black dood. their nerves were wired and their third leg was rising. in six minutes five lusty images gave me my first glob of gooie in my virgin panties.
That was my introduction to the Rolling Stones. they did time is on my side. my brain froze. I was doing all my thinking between my legs. I got shook. light broke. they were gone and I cliff-hanging. like jerking off without coming.
Pa snapped off the TV. but he was too late. they put the touch on me. I was blushing jelly. this was no mamas boy music. it was alchemical. I couldn't fathom the recipe but I was ready. blind love for my father was the first thing I sacrificed to Mick Jagger.
Time passed. I offered up everything I didn't have. every little
lamb. I can tie the Stones in with every sexual release of my late blooming adolescence. the stones were sexually freeing confused american children. a girl could feel power. lady glory. a guy could reveal his feminine side without being called a fag. masculinity was no longer measured on the football field.
Ya never think of the Stones as fags. in full make-up and frills.
they still get it across. they know just how to ram a woman. they made me real proud to be female...
~Patti Smith~
______________________
Thank you to Roger Simian for turning me on to Patti's words so long ago ... she is a true inspiration to me
Patti Smith used to write erotic rock journalism for 'Creem' in the early-70s when it was still a cool underground magazine ... here's a bit of one she wrote about the first time she saw the Rolling Stones on TV. She's got a distinctive experimental style - always using lower-case letters - that she borrowed off Bob Dylan & the Beat writers.
The Rise of the Sacred Monsters
by Patti Lee Smith
I was scared silly. there was pa glued to the TV screen cussing his brains out. a rock'n'roll band was doing it right on the Ed Sullivan Show. Pa was frothing like a dog. I never seen him so mad. but I lost contact with him quick. that band was as relentless as murder. I was trapped in a field of hot dots. the guitar player had pimples. the blonde kneeling down had cicles ringing his eyes. one had greasy hair. the other didn't care.
and the singer was showing his second layer of skin and more than a little milk. I felt thru his pants with optic x-ray. this was some hard meat. this was a bitch. five white boys sexy as any black dood. their nerves were wired and their third leg was rising. in six minutes five lusty images gave me my first glob of gooie in my virgin panties.
That was my introduction to the Rolling Stones. they did time is on my side. my brain froze. I was doing all my thinking between my legs. I got shook. light broke. they were gone and I cliff-hanging. like jerking off without coming.
Pa snapped off the TV. but he was too late. they put the touch on me. I was blushing jelly. this was no mamas boy music. it was alchemical. I couldn't fathom the recipe but I was ready. blind love for my father was the first thing I sacrificed to Mick Jagger.
Time passed. I offered up everything I didn't have. every little
lamb. I can tie the Stones in with every sexual release of my late blooming adolescence. the stones were sexually freeing confused american children. a girl could feel power. lady glory. a guy could reveal his feminine side without being called a fag. masculinity was no longer measured on the football field.
Ya never think of the Stones as fags. in full make-up and frills.
they still get it across. they know just how to ram a woman. they made me real proud to be female...
~Patti Smith~
______________________
Thank you to Roger Simian for turning me on to Patti's words so long ago ... she is a true inspiration to me
tigerjen
The Married Tigress
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2001
- Posts
- 83,318
i got two of the answers......
choreographer......Isadora Duncan
first female cosmonaut........Tereshkova (can't remember
her first name at the moment!)
daughter,
thank you for starting up the women's history month
thread! ya beat me to the punch!
tigerjen
choreographer......Isadora Duncan
first female cosmonaut........Tereshkova (can't remember
her first name at the moment!)
daughter,
thank you for starting up the women's history month
thread! ya beat me to the punch!
tigerjen
tigerjen
The Married Tigress
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2001
- Posts
- 83,318
some more famous women......
Betty Friedan.........author of "The Feminine Mystique" and
one of the founders of NOW....
Gloria Steinem........graduate of Smith College.......for a
journalism assignment, went and got a job at the Playboy
Club in NYC (there's a whole story about that)....later
founder of "Ms." magazine.......
Just a footnote.......I did my US History paper (junior year
of high school) on Betty Friedan......I didn't want to do the
usual George Washington, Martin Luther King, or JFK.......
and did my women's studies class project on Gloria
Steinem (senior year at Ithaca College).......
tigerjen
Betty Friedan.........author of "The Feminine Mystique" and
one of the founders of NOW....
Gloria Steinem........graduate of Smith College.......for a
journalism assignment, went and got a job at the Playboy
Club in NYC (there's a whole story about that)....later
founder of "Ms." magazine.......
Just a footnote.......I did my US History paper (junior year
of high school) on Betty Friedan......I didn't want to do the
usual George Washington, Martin Luther King, or JFK.......
and did my women's studies class project on Gloria
Steinem (senior year at Ithaca College).......
tigerjen
tigerjen
The Married Tigress
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2001
- Posts
- 83,318
More women firsts.......
Sally Ride........1st American woman in space!
Christa McKuliffe..........1st teacher to be on the space
shuttle....unfortunately her first flight was her last,
on the Space Shuttle Challenger, in Jan. 1986....I remember
that day real well (we had a "snow day" so i was at home
that morning watching the shuttle launch, and 73 seconds
into liftoff...there was the explosion)......
tigerjen
Sally Ride........1st American woman in space!
Christa McKuliffe..........1st teacher to be on the space
shuttle....unfortunately her first flight was her last,
on the Space Shuttle Challenger, in Jan. 1986....I remember
that day real well (we had a "snow day" so i was at home
that morning watching the shuttle launch, and 73 seconds
into liftoff...there was the explosion)......
tigerjen
Isabella Thorne
Saucy Ambassador of Tarty Foreign Affairs
- Joined
- May 5, 2000
- Posts
- 3,084
Canada's first and only Female Prime Minister (so far)
The Right Honourable Kim Campbell
THE POLITICAL POWER
13 June 1993 - 25 October 1993
BORN
10 March 1947, Port Alberni, British Columbia
_______________________
and also .... Romy and Michelle invested "post its" ....
The Right Honourable Kim Campbell
THE POLITICAL POWER
13 June 1993 - 25 October 1993
BORN
10 March 1947, Port Alberni, British Columbia
_______________________
and also .... Romy and Michelle invested "post its" ....
daughter
Dreamer
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2001
- Posts
- 1,561
Women In Politics
Althea T.L. Simmons
Born April 17, 1924 in Shreveport, Louisiana
Died September 13, 1990 in Washington, D.C.
Althea Simmons was the chief congressional lobbyist of the
National Association for the Advancement of Colred People and
the director of the civil rights organization's Washighton
bureau. She came to Washington after two decades of field
experience and administrative postions with the NAACP and was considered one of the most effective lobbyists on Capitol
Hill.
Have I given up hope? NO. I am an incurable activist. I
can't believe that the American people are so closed-minded
that they can't see the necessity to use all our human resources.
For more sketches see "I Dream A World" Brian Lankar. 1989
Althea T.L. Simmons
Born April 17, 1924 in Shreveport, Louisiana
Died September 13, 1990 in Washington, D.C.
Althea Simmons was the chief congressional lobbyist of the
National Association for the Advancement of Colred People and
the director of the civil rights organization's Washighton
bureau. She came to Washington after two decades of field
experience and administrative postions with the NAACP and was considered one of the most effective lobbyists on Capitol
Hill.
Have I given up hope? NO. I am an incurable activist. I
can't believe that the American people are so closed-minded
that they can't see the necessity to use all our human resources.
For more sketches see "I Dream A World" Brian Lankar. 1989
Isabella Thorne
Saucy Ambassador of Tarty Foreign Affairs
- Joined
- May 5, 2000
- Posts
- 3,084
One hand in my pocket ...
i simply have to make mention in this thread of Alanis Morissette ... one of my fave song writers / artists ... and a "kindred" of sorts ...
not only has she sold 40 million records around the world, and won 7 Grammys ... not only has she played the role of "God" (egads - portrayed as a woman ) in the movie Dogma ... but also ..
The Friends of the United Nations recently gave her an award for "Promoting Global Tolerance Around the World" ...
not bad for a 28 year old girl from Ottawa, Canada, eh?
____________________________
What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign .... in your direction, daughter ...
i simply have to make mention in this thread of Alanis Morissette ... one of my fave song writers / artists ... and a "kindred" of sorts ...
not only has she sold 40 million records around the world, and won 7 Grammys ... not only has she played the role of "God" (egads - portrayed as a woman ) in the movie Dogma ... but also ..
The Friends of the United Nations recently gave her an award for "Promoting Global Tolerance Around the World" ...
not bad for a 28 year old girl from Ottawa, Canada, eh?
____________________________
What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign .... in your direction, daughter ...
G
Guest
Guest
Women fought in the Civil War
Excerpt from:
"Women Soldiers of the Civil War"
By DeAnne Blanton
Both the Union and Confederate armies forbade the enlistment of women. Women soldiers of the Civil War therefore assumed masculine names, disguised themselves as men, and hid the fact they were female. Because they passed as men, it is impossible to know with any certainty how many women soldiers served in the Civil War. Estimates place as many as 250 women in the ranks of the Confederate army.
The Union had women fighters, as well.
Rosetta Wakeman (1843-1864) - Posed as a male to serve in Union Army during Civil War.
Excerpt from:
"Women Soldiers of the Civil War"
By DeAnne Blanton
Both the Union and Confederate armies forbade the enlistment of women. Women soldiers of the Civil War therefore assumed masculine names, disguised themselves as men, and hid the fact they were female. Because they passed as men, it is impossible to know with any certainty how many women soldiers served in the Civil War. Estimates place as many as 250 women in the ranks of the Confederate army.
The Union had women fighters, as well.
Rosetta Wakeman (1843-1864) - Posed as a male to serve in Union Army during Civil War.
tigerjen
The Married Tigress
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2001
- Posts
- 83,318
Clara Barton's bio:
http://www.civilwarhome.com/bartonbio.htm
founder of the American Red Cross........
tigerjen
http://www.civilwarhome.com/bartonbio.htm
founder of the American Red Cross........
tigerjen
Isabella Thorne
Saucy Ambassador of Tarty Foreign Affairs
- Joined
- May 5, 2000
- Posts
- 3,084
Happy International Women's Day!
On this wonderful day of celebration for women around the world ...
i would like to take a moment of thought for all the repressed women living on this planet - repressed by men who feel they are somehow superior ...
just think of the great loss our world suffers because we miss out on their possible contributions ...
these women do not have the opportunties before them that i have been lucky enough to be born into ...
and i truly hope they too will one day get their say ...
_____________________________
All the women who are independent
Throw your hands up at me
All the honeys who makin' money
Throw your hands up at me
All the mommas who profit dollas
Throw your hands up at me
All the ladies who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me
~Destiny's Child~
On this wonderful day of celebration for women around the world ...
i would like to take a moment of thought for all the repressed women living on this planet - repressed by men who feel they are somehow superior ...
just think of the great loss our world suffers because we miss out on their possible contributions ...
these women do not have the opportunties before them that i have been lucky enough to be born into ...
and i truly hope they too will one day get their say ...
_____________________________
All the women who are independent
Throw your hands up at me
All the honeys who makin' money
Throw your hands up at me
All the mommas who profit dollas
Throw your hands up at me
All the ladies who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me
~Destiny's Child~
daughter
Dreamer
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2001
- Posts
- 1,561
International Women's Day: March 8
Indira Gandhi
1917-1984
Indian political leader
When the first prime minister of India after independence, Jawaharlal Nehru, died of a stroke in 1964, his daughter Indira was not seriously considered as a successor. However, when two years later the new prime minister Lal Shastri also died suddenly, Gandhi was chosen to fill the leadership void in India. Overnight she became the leader of the world's largest democracy and perhaps the most powerful woman in the world.
If I die a violent death as some fear and a few are plotting, I know the violence will be in the thought and the action of the assassin, not in my dying....
Taken from Prominent Women of the 20th Century. Gale Publishing
Indira Gandhi
1917-1984
Indian political leader
When the first prime minister of India after independence, Jawaharlal Nehru, died of a stroke in 1964, his daughter Indira was not seriously considered as a successor. However, when two years later the new prime minister Lal Shastri also died suddenly, Gandhi was chosen to fill the leadership void in India. Overnight she became the leader of the world's largest democracy and perhaps the most powerful woman in the world.
If I die a violent death as some fear and a few are plotting, I know the violence will be in the thought and the action of the assassin, not in my dying....
Taken from Prominent Women of the 20th Century. Gale Publishing
