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From the 1950s to the 1980s, when people talked of & #39;manned& #39; spaceflight and & #39;mankind& #39; going to the stars, they meant men, not women. Women were not allowed or welcome in space. So don& #39;t go on with your bullshit about how & #39;mankind& #39; means humanity.
One of these days I& #39;ll do a thread on language where it& #39;s assumed the listener or reader is male.
These terms ALWAYS include men. Always. They don& #39;t have to think about it. These terms are SUPPOSED to include women, but it& #39;s uneven. If women assume they& #39;re covered, it often turns out not to be the case.
I& #39;m going to tell the story of when I realised that I couldn& #39;t simply & #39;read myself into& #39; any male situation or character. Maybe I was 9 or 10. I loved Biggles. I painted watercolours of WW I dogfights. I wanted to be a pilot (among other things).
One day a bloke asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said a pilot. He said & #39;Women can& #39;t be pilots& #39;. (And they couldn& #39;t in Australia at that time - they were barred from this profession in both defence and comnercial). I was just profoundly shocked to my core.
I mean, this revelation just cracked the foundations of my world. When I read Biggles and all those adventure books with male characters, I read myself into them. I assumed I could have those adventures. I could be Biggles.
This made me realise I could never be Biggles. These books weren& #39;t written for me or other little girls. We were supposed to be the wives and mothers, or the nameless women - they are just called & #39;the woman& #39; - in these books.
It affected everything I read. Instead of reading myself as the male characters, I& #39;d invent new characters for me to be and imagine my own version of the stories, one where I could have a central role and stay a girl, myself.
