 | Meanwhile, in the Land of Oz |
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As they passed the rows of houses they saw through the open doors that men were sweeping and dusting and washing dishes, while the women sat around in groups, gossiping and laughing.
“What has happened?” the Scarecrow asked a sad-looking man with a bushy beard, who wore an apron and was wheeling a baby carriage along the sidewalk.
“Why, we’ve had a revolution, your Majesty – as you ought to know very well,” replied the man; “and since you went away the women have been running things to suit themselves. I’m glad you have decided to come back and restore order, for doing housework and minding the children is wearing out the strength of every man in the Emerald City.”
“Hm!” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. “If it is such hard work as you say, how did the women manage it so easily?”
“I really do not know,” replied the man, with a deep sigh. “Perhaps the women are made of cast-iron.”
(from The Marvelous Land of Oz by L. Frank Baum)
In Angela’s Oz, methinks there would be no mops nor brooms as that work could be done on hands and knees, prompted by tugs on overly tightened cock rings.
In Oz, ruled by a king with no brain, men are fools.
In every world women do the hard work of life- making the world over for the next generation. Men take the easy distracting jobs of hunting, or foreign adventure (in coffices or alien lands) pumping our egos for transient victories. Women take up the grind of nurture and constancy- if we are lucky.