November the Thirtieth
Author: Oro
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: They wouldn't have done this on Aaron's watch, I'm certain.
Notes: November the 30th, 1920 is when, in America, the first nationwide federal election open for women was held.
In college, CJ was a feminist leader; always protesting, her hair long and flowing in the wind that crept through the mob of women against the seemingly never ending lack of justice that has been going on since the creation of man, so it seems. The creation of woman. She would be called a dyke by men, people who were obviously raised on those primitive laws of only a generation before her. The Dyke Squad, one guy in her political science would say, only half-joking; she considered him a friend and he had gone off with that slurring crowd of men and the women they controlled: the women for whom she fought.
"And women, they're so much better off nowdays, you know?" She asks, pouring alcohol down her throat. Even if they were, (she doesn't say), thirty-six million here are not even registered to vote and we're back to square one.
Amy does know: "I have never done anything that was not helpful to women so far as it lay in my power," she says with a snort. "Sometimes, it's still the fucking fight for suffrage," and she's lost her job and her boyfriend, to him, because of him, and no one raised her hand and claimed that was a feminist issue.
Men and women always have and always will make the choices they are driven to make concerning their own bodies. It is a basic right, and one we must protect; and they do try, and CJ sticks her tongue in Amy's mouth, because they were called lesbians their entire lives anyway.
A toast for November the Thirtieth. A toast for Roe V. Wade, for the Third Wave, for Loretta Cody, Jane Croly, Antoinette Brown Blackwell, Lucy Stone, Gloria Steinem: CJ Cregg and Amy Gardner. Alcohol induced sex that smells like the right to equality.