'Night, Sister.

On Saturday, Betty Friedan died. She was 85.

It is hard to overestimate the impact she had on the nation's psyche. She destroyed some of the myths we held about who we were: all to the good, as those myths were eating the soul out of countless women.

There are a lot of criticisms of her feminist writings, most of them valid. She did view things from a straight, upper-middle-class, white perspective. After all, "the feminine mystique" that she railed against in her groundbreaking first book was a syndrome found among bored suburban housewives, not poor working women. As a friend of mine in college once explained, "If all your life you've had to work to support your family, it would be nice to have a choice to stay home and raise your own kids." And in some ways, perhaps, her writings made the choice to stay home and raise kids (because someone has to do it, if not you then a nanny or babysitter or day care worker) seem unacceptable for intelligent or educated women.

But because of Betty, and her comrades, women had choices. Not all women, in many ways not enough women and not enough choices, but more of each. The questions were beginnning to be asked.

I am three years older than Betty was when she wrote The Feminine Mystique. I came of age during a time and a place (the South) when girls were expected to be nurses, not doctors, before Little League fields had youngsters in ponytails, when a woman president was a joke, not a possibility. When you could be fired for being pregnant. Before the first woman astronaut, the first woman Supreme Court Justice, the first woman to be nominated to nationwide office by her party.

I am growing older now in what has been sometimes called the "post-feminist age". Rush Limbaugh and his ilk sneeringly refer to "feminazis" and young women without a trace of irony say "I believe in equal rights, but I'm not a feminist." At a time when Kansas state senator Kay O'Connor can say that granting women the right to vote was a bad thing -- and then run for the office of Secretary of State, which in Kansas oversees elections.

But you know what? I'm a feminist. And regardless of what goes on elsewhere, I'm going to be a feminist until I die. And do you know what that means? It means I believe...

In equal pay for equal work.

That all honest work is honorable.

That there is no "men's work" or "women's work" (outside of a very few short term gigs limited to reproduction) only "peoples' work."

That it is wonderful that my nieces have degrees in engineering and computer science, and that should be honored.

That it is likewise wonderful that my son wants to be a daycare worker when he grows up, and that too should be honored.

That being a doctor or lawyer or Republican State Senator is a choice that is open to all people who possess the proper qualifications -- and "having a penis" is never a requisite qualification.

That raising children -- your own or someone else's -- is a choice and should be respected as important work, regardless of the gender of the caregiver.

That men should change as many diapers, and wash as many dishes, and write as many thank-you notes and Christmas cards as their wives do.

That yes means yes and no means NO.

That women should have the same access to the boardrooms, the classrooms, the machine-shop floors, and the playing fields, that the men have.

In short, that all people, regardless of gender, are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

This is who I am and what I believe. I would have come to believe these things without Betty Freidan, I think, but I would have been alone. With Betty, and the movement she was such an integral part of, I was part of something larger. There is safety in numbers -- it helps reassure you that you are not mad. Being exposed to the feminist movement meant that I had other people who understood my frustration and pain. Although I never met her except through her writings, by being the catalyst that she was, Betty Freidan changed my life.

So, Betty, a younger sister says thank you. Rest in peace.