The Feminine Mystique

I wonder, as Emily Wilding Davison ducked under the railing and prepared herself, whether she could imagine how successful the struggle for equal rights for women would become. As Betty Friedan sat down to write the Feminine Mystique, could she imagine a world with female world leaders let alone redefined gender roles. Indeed, how far we've come. There is no better example of how far we've come than the advertising world.

In adverts, the woman is usually seen as independent, important, business-like. She is a working mother, juggling the duties of a mother and a CEO. Man is her equal, not her better half. There is even a cheeky hint of superiority with slogans such as "so simple, a man could do it"(evidently, this advert wsn't for female razors, which look like they've been designed by the Early Learning Centre)

And what about the products that this successful, business-like, power-sharing woman is targeted with. Well, lets construct a model of the average woman and her day, as seen through the eyes of advertisers.

On awaking, (no doubt at 4:30am, to feed the twins, fill up the road tank and wake up her lazy good for nothing husband) she applies seven different skin creams and oils that will give her a healthy flawless complexion (that is, unless her face doesn't sag like a balloon filled with water due to all the moisture in it). For breakfast (no doubt a power breakfast, just berfore a board meeting) she wants to eat a bowl of low fat cereal. Low fat, so that she still looks good (presumably in a bright red business suit). Whilst at work, in between selling stocks, shares etc she needs to find time to take a break... to have a low fat, low sugar, piss poor fizzy drink and ogle a builder. With so little time for lunch, this highflying, fast living exec/mother will need something light and quick - no doubt a low fat cheese spread on crispbread will do the trick. Home time, and it's time to unwind. Curl up on the sofa with a low fat, low sugar hot chocolate drink. But it's been a busy day and she's worked hard, so she deserves a devilish treat - a big chocolate bar and where better to eat it than in the bath with a luxurious scrub. Finally, shattered from a busy day of hedgefunding, dogwalking and child and husband raising, she will turn in - but not before removing all the badness of the day with one pad and applying goodness for the nighttime with another.

Indeed, how far we've come. No longer slave to the kitchen, free to make decisions for herself, judged solely on the content of her character, not the colour or texture of her skin. I'm sure as Miss Davison saw the hoof falling, she smiled as she imagined future generations enjoying the freedom, to apply a fake tan, that she fought and died for.