Celebrating the National Park Service Centennial with a Rosie Rally ... .
... which always leaves me with a feeling of being underwhelmed since I still lack the sense of relationship to the concept. Rosie, for me, remains a white woman's story, with little relevance to my life. I know. It's silly. I do spend almost my entire life, currently, in the context of that history, right? But try as I may -- those memories of exclusion are with me still after all these years. I chose to wear my regular uniform on this day and to not participate except from afar as an observer.
I truly do not harbor any resentment, nor do I envy the women who remember that period of WWII with feelings of triumph over a social system that was pretty disrespectful of women in general. It is a great feminist issue, and I firmly believe that today's women should use whatever they need to in order to bring light upon the issue. I just isn't my issue, and I'm alright with that.
But there was a moment of amusement when I first saw those amazing women who'd gathered in the Craneway Pavilion of the old Ford Assembly Plant in the attempt to reclaim the Guinness Record for having the most women dressed as Rosie gathered in one place -- a friendly competition entered into with the women of the WWII defense plant in Dearborn, Michigan. We broke the record with over 2000 people, a number that included several who traveled from Michigan to join with us in the attempt!
As I looked on that scene in the Craneway it was all I could do to not make note of the fact that -- given the context of my life and culture -- they resembled Aunt Jemima of pancake fame more than anything else! Did they know that? And in the script running through my momentarily demented mind, I was creating my own story where I would call in the NAACP legal team to make claim that these folks were expropriating another black symbol -- our icon -- and without our consent! (... and, yes, I DO understand that this is not a legitimate black symbol, but simply a questionable logo created by the advertising industry.)
I backed out of the Craneway giggling to myself, as my fantasy went on to envision slave women in the cotton fields with their heads wrapped in red and white polka-dot bandanas added to by the descendants of slaveowners adopting this now iconic symbol without realizing what they were perpetuating, and now being joined by African American women in this Guinness competition! And even if they knew, would it have mattered? So much for traditions in these days of blending cultures.
After using the image to tease, I found myself going with the flow after a time. It was a usual day for me, and I silently observed that the National Park Service only has 5 years on me, and that if I was feeling underwhelmed, it was probably to centennials not being such a big deal to one of my age. Maybe I'll feel it more deeply when I get to Washington on September 15, where it is so much easier to relate to history; our collective narrative, which is so very powerful.
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