What Would Wendy O. Do?

When I was 12 years old a boy in my 6th grade class, Mike Henle, told me that he could beat me at baseball any time. The rules: he'd get one other boy as a teammate and I could get as many girls as I wanted as teammates. Many days after school, me, Jenny, Lupe, Lydia, and all the other little girls I could round up would be out at K Street park, huffing and puffing, trying our darndest to kick those boys asses.

Mike always won. (He was a really good baseball player, dammit!) Although I was always disappointed, it didn't slow me down. Around the same time, I bought this shirt that said "GIRLS LIB". The i's were dotted with little baseballs. You can't really read it in this picture, but here I am wearing it:

I don't know why but it's ingrained in me. I've always felt this overwhelming urge to fly the feminist flag.

So here we go: I am a woman. I drive a van. I love vans. When on roadtrips in my van my boyfriend and I will switch off behind the wheel, help get each other snacks and both keep the tunes rocking on the stereo. So when I read a recent column in the vanning magazine SLOWLY WE ROLL, pathetically titled "Riding Bitch with the Vanner Babes", I couldn't help but groan and roll my eyes. Even if it was meant to be tongue in cheek, it irritated the fuck out of me. It's been a long time since the 50's chumps! The intro to the column dripped with cringeworthy bits that I found totally demeaning to women.

So to any vanner dudes out there who agree that a "righteous vanner babe riding bitch" should be keeping the "inside of your rig nice", keeping the "drink tray stocked with a cold one" and whose main job is keeping the "tunes cranking" while you are being a "Van Man" I say FUYA!

See you on the road motherfuckers, where I'll be in the driving seat!

--Beth