A very blurry yearbook picture of Tattooed Nana in 1973 giving it her best Gloria Steinem.
The real deal – pioneer feminist Gloria Steinem in 1973.
The Twenty-first Century Crone isn’t merely defined by age or reproductive status. She has also achieved, often by battling great odds, her self-awareness and self-liberation.
Oprah, for all her battles and victories is no Crone.
No haters, please. Let’s get this out of the way: Oprah Winfrey has done much good in the world. Her philanthropic work is legendary, her political activism has shone a light on important issues for women and girls, and she gave away some pretty dandy prizes on her show. She gave us Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz. She’s living proof of hope fulfilled for the upward mobility of women of color. Upward to the tune of over $2 billion. With a “b.” Sadly, race and gender still throw up walls in our country, and Oprah has scaled them like a Valkyrie. Like a mogul. Like a boss.
Oprah’s a role model for girls, ambitious young women, and…well, just women, right? Don’t you want to have a monthly magazine named after you so you can smile on each cover in professionally applied make up and an upbeat seasonal outfit all lit to perfection? Throw in a bunch of daffodils or a pumpkin pie and it’s the ultimate selfie, right? Right. And there’s the break. Crone’s aren’t hung up on selfies.
Always a trendsetter, Oprah became dazzled by the Facebook mentality long before the rest of us were misrepresenting ourselves on Facebook. That kind of reality break is bound to happen when someone becomes so famous that her last name becomes superfluous. My last name isn’t superfluous, and I bet yours isn’t either. Last names are how we mainstream Americans exist legally, financially, and socially in mainstream America.
Oprah left the mainstream so long ago that she went off the rails, and doggone it, she took my beloved Gloria Steinem with her.
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