I'll just say this, and it will just piss everyone off, but I'm under a geis like Cassandra. For the millionth, predictable, partiarchially-determined time, people went for the cool, suddenly "likeable," younger, inexperienced guy over the mean old woman who'd paid the dues that they ( and by "they" I mean the patriarchy) always used to tell us ( and by "us," I mean women) that we had to pay to get the job.
I've seen this a million times in my career.
And the result is always the damn same.
And, so, since I'm in full "piss everyone off" mode, thanks so much to all of those young, "post-feminist" women who made fun of us old broads in our "boxy blazers" and voted for the "cool guy" sure that they, they, they were too special to need to work with "old" feminists.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."