The best way to measure the impact of Betty Friedan, who would have turned 100 on Feb. 4th had she not died in 2006, is to look at our mothers. Think where they were at the same age you are now. Many of us had moms who stayed at home to raise us, and then when the kids were out of the house, they might have taken on a small job here or there, or they simply brushed their hands together—their jobs done—and coasted into a future of grandkids and good-natured gripes about annoying retired husbands.
I like to think of these post-child, pre-drool years as my Second Twenties.
In addition to opening up possibilities in education, work, public service, and motherhood, Betty Friedan's work—specifically her imperfect but landscape-altering book The Feminine Mystique—led to what I think of as the Golden Hour, a stage of life akin to the time after sunset that photographers consider the most beautiful light. I've also thought of these post-child, pre-drool years as my Second Twenties, when I feel free to figure out the best course for my future, the way I did when I first got out of college—well, not exactly the way I did then since I have so much more experience and savvy now.
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