Bread And Roses: We Battle Too For Men

March 8th is International Women's Day. Who would have thought that in 2012 a woman's right to choose would be subjected to such nefarious attacks as the law passed today in the U.S. state of Virginia requiring women to have an ultrasound before an abortion? And that was considered a compromise. What Republican Governor Bob McDonnell and his merry band of cohorts initially proposed included a controversial requirement for a more invasive vaginal probe.

Then there's the debate around contraception and the abusive assault on Sandra Fluke by meatheaded misogynist Rush Limbaugh. But at least he's re-apologizing...and not allowing "phony stuff like race, creed, sex, or religion to get in the way of any racist, xenophobic, sexist, anti-Parkinsonian observations about political figures, celebrities, First Daughters, even certain individuals who like to call themselves 'the president.'"

These are issues that concern men as well as women. Sure, there's a bit of self-interest involved. As the poem/song "Bread and Roses" goes, "The rising of the women means the rising of the race." Issues of violence against women - not just physical violence - need to be addressed by men. As the backlash against women's rights and the assault on their dignity continue, vigilance now more than ever is required. These are our mothers, sisters, daughters and wives. The sooner we join them in the struggle, the better off we'll all be.

Bread And Roses

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.