I read some of your ramblings in high school, fifteen or so years ago. And I’d like to thank you for helping to mold me as a progressive activist, and making me understand why the ERA is a big deal.
In your incoherent desire to see women in my generation retreat from a battle our grandmothers and mothers fought, I felt my spine and my resolve harden to KEEP PUSHING FURTHER. This serves me well when I think nothing I do matters. I look up quotes from you, like this 2007 gem: “By getting married, the woman has consented to sex, and I don’t think you can call it rape.” AND THE FIRE IN MY BELLY RAGES.
So Phyllis, bravo on being the antihero at best, and the villain at worst. You’re sixty years older than me, and a century behind. I hope you sleep fitfully tonight, stuffed with birthday cake and bile, knowing the War on Women is far from over, and the women of my generation have begun picking up the artillery of those who came before us.
We come from all walks of life, all ages, all races, ethnic backgrounds, religions, sexual orientations, and all points on the spectrum of gender.
And we will outlive you by decades and outrun you by miles.
Sleep tight, Phyllis.