I think they might already have come for Joan of Arc, so Boudicca can’t be far behind.
Women, real women, fictional women, have always, fucking always, been out in the world doing interesting, productive, dangerous and exciting things. Second-wave didn’t invent active and intelligent women, it just gave us some more words to use to describe why it was all so hard.
Our sisters have always worked hard, played hard, died hard. They’ve climbed trees and mountains and social barriers. They’ve gone to war and started wars; they’ve raised children and killed them. They’ve grown food, raised animals, built houses, started businesses and made fortunes. They’ve gone exploring on seas and in deserts and on mountains. They’ve discovered things, written things, made things and stolen things.
Everything that men did, women did too, but carrying the weight of the patriarchy on their backs. Progress for women has been like escaping the Great Molasses Flood, not because they lacked energy, courage, capability or intellect, but because they were always being held back by the sticky mess of male resistance.
And now these lily-livered, shuddering, pale-faced children and gaudy men want to steal our history from us.
Well fuck that.
Here is Sojoumer Truth saying better than I can, at the Women’s Convention in 1851.
"Dat man ober dar say dat womin needs to be helped into carriages, and lifted ober ditches, and to hab de best place everywhar. Nobody eber helps me into carriages, or ober mud-puddles, or gibs me any best place!" And raising herself to her full height, and her voice to a pitch like rolling thunder, she asked. "And a'n't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! (and she bared her right arm to the shoulder, showing her tremendous muscular power). I have ploughed, and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And a'n't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man—when I could get it—and bear de lash as well! And a'n't, I a woman? I have borne thirteen chilern, and seen 'em mos' all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And a'n't I a woman?