Frailty, Thy Name is Woman

Perhaps, last week a fragile package called a
child, weighing only 15 pounds was kept alive by
the skill of a woman Doctor.
Yet we are frail.
Maybe this morning a person was acquitted from
the Death chair by a woman.
Yet we are frail.
Perhaps yesterday a woman remained awake all
night with a frightened child, and rested but an
hour, only to wake and rush to a critical business meeting.
Yet we are frail.
Maybe last month a woman courageously
purchased her very first apartment since the Divorce from her abusive husband.
And maybe the bruises are all healed by now.
Yet we remain frail.
Perhaps tonight a woman will stand before a
nation of people and speak her political views
about the country we call our home.
Perchance someday she will become Prime Minister.
Yet we are frail.
Perhaps a month from now a woman will face
her family and friends and confess to them that
she has A.I.D.S. or breast cancer or hepatitis B or something equally terrifying.
But we are frail.
Perhaps five minutes ago or last night or this
morning or even right this very second, a woman somewhere, someplace, is enduring incredible
pain to produce life so precious and beautiful that
words cannot begin to describe it.
And yet we still remain frail.
To those who think. “Frailty, thy name is woman,”
I say to them “If holding strong against all of
these pressures and the stress of being beautiful
and intelligent and thin and perfect is considered
frail, then so be it.
For we are women.
We are proud and we are strong.


 

Dawn McKinnon


Written During Her High School Years




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