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I Love Writing Stories

Tonight the farm is quiet. Not even the lambs are bleating. The cattle are no longer lowing, anxious to be milked because farmers milk them only twice a day when their udders are so heavy. They are made to give milk when their calves have been taken away. And made to wait to yield their milk at the convenience of the farmer. It is all so cruel. But they have no voice. Like women in my country 100 years ago. And like so many women today. Like the women in Iran who are daring to go with their heads uncovered. Like the women in my “Christian” church who may not be seen with their heads uncovered. Oh yes. It isn’t just Muslim countries. Men dictating to women what they may and may not wear is alive and well here in “Christian” Britain too.

 
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