Lyrics
Talking Herstory
Well, if you think the world is a mystery,
Then you ought to learn a little history.
Find the facts—open up your mind;
If you want to see the future,
You gotta’ look behind.
‘Cause the one outstanding feature
Of the preacher and the teacher
Is what Cummings called
The “shrill collective Myth”;
That is, the lies we tell ourselves...
About ourselves...
To make ourselves
Feel better about ourselves.
Haven’t you ever wondered
Why they call it “His story”?
Now they tell the one about
Adam in the garden:
He was diggin' in the dirt
And beggin’ God’s pardon
When along came Eve
And opened up his eyes;
She said, “Here, eat this!
It’ll make you healthy and wise.”
And she was right,
So Adam took a bite,
But when God did come
(FEE-FI-FO-FUM),
He said, “I’m gonna’ take your life!”
So Adam did what any
Red-blooded, self-righteous,
God-fearing man would do:
He blamed his wife!
In those early days the boys were no fools;
So, they sat themselves down
And made up some rules:
“We men’ll be the leaders...
We’ll call ourselves...priests.”
And suddenly they saw
Their fortunes increased.
“Our job’ll be to sit here
And make up the laws
And take up collections
For other people’s flaws!
Take, for instance, the female;
You can see that she’s cursed:
In all God’s creation a woman’s the worst.
She is a creature so completely unclean
(You can see what I mean in Leviticus 15:19)
Why, she bleeds again and again...
Whether she’s wounded or not!”
You better burn those sheets, Buddy. It says so,
Right there in the Bible...You could look it up!
And the times moved on,
But they didn’t much change;
Came the land of the free
And a home on the range.
A man worked hard in the blazing sun,
But a woman’s work was never done
‘Cause a man’s home is his castle—
A place where he can be free from hassle.
In his home, you know, a man is king!
Of course, you can’t have everything;
So, instead of his wife being a queen,
She’s sort of a combination
Scullery maid and baby machine!
Yes, Folks, in this land of Lady Liberty,
Both women and slaves were equally free:
Free to be punished, abused, or spurned,
While forbidden education
Or the chance to earn...a livin’,
And anything a woman was given,
Went directly into the pocket of the man.
It was a pretty good plan...
If you were a man!
She couldn’t sign a contract
Nor testify in court;
Couldn’t vote or speak in public
Or things of that sort.
You see they had this sorta’ pedestal
Men maintained for their gals—
Their conjugal partners—
Their bosomed pals.
And those men respected her station in life—
Kept her right where they knew
A man should keep his wife:
Right directly under that pedestal!
Then, out of nowhere,
A movement began,
And women were demanding
The rights of man.
Liz Cady Stanton made a declaration:
Claimed a woman’s not a slave
Nor a decoration.
“These women,” cried the men,
“Want a revolution!”
“Just our rights,” she replied,
“Under the Constitution.
Let us learn...
And let us earn...
Then, let us further note:
We’ll accept nothing less
Than the right to vote!”
They were stoned and beaten;
They were threatened and jailed,
But they held their ground,
And somehow prevailed.
In 1920 they could finally vote—
...Only took about a hundred and thirty years—
But the wheels of justice turn painfully slow
When men throw monkey wrenches in the gears.
But men saw their chance
And invented the sweatshop—
Worked women and their kids
Till they both would drop.
They’d pay them each
Only penny’s a day;
It was a thing they called “The American Way!”
You know, the cycle of profit;
Sorry, Ma'am, no way to get off it!
Until Margaret Sanger, said,
“Our bodies are ours!
You men can come down
From your ivory towers!
More women die by giving birth
Than any other single reason
On the face of the earth.
Endless childbearing takes a murderous toll,
So, women must have their birth control!”
Finally, in 1965,
When many of us were already alive,
The court said in “Griswold”
That a man and wife
Were e
