Rosie The Riveter Quotes

The filigreed iron gates of the Navy Yard were open wide between two pillars that featured large spread-winged eagles on orbs. Men were standing around as women came out together in their overalls after their shifts. Before the war women didn’t work at the Navy Yard, but with men joining up or drafted and a new campaign with a poster of 'Rosie the Riveter' it did its job encouraging woman to work outside the home for the war effort.

It's the forties look," she says to George, hand on her hip, doing a pirouette. "Rosie the Riveter. From the war. Remember her?" George, whose name is not really George, does not remember. He spent the forties rooting through garbage bag heaps and begging, and doing other things unsuitable for a child. He has a dim memory of some film star posed on a calendar tattering on a latrine wall. Maybe this is the one Prue means. He remembers for an instant his intense resentment of the bright, ignorant smile, the well-fed body. A couple of buddies had helped him take her apart with the rusty blade from a kitchen knife they'd found somewhere in the rubble. He does not consider telling any of this to Prue.

She was a superpowered Rosie the Riveter, constantly encouraging women to join the auxiliary forces or get a wartime job. But while Superman and Batman sat out the war, Wonder Woman fought on every possible front.

In 1945, out of 52 million American adult women only 19.5 million held jobs. Among married women, only a quarter did.[364] Though the image of Rosie the Riveter dominated propaganda, its link to reality was tenuous. In metal-working plants of all types, male workers outnumbered female ones more than three to one.[365]

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It can’t just be a coincidence that the first generation of girls raised on empowering female characters like Wonder Woman and Rosie the Riveter became the generation of the women’s liberation movement.

But what if this is the mission God has for you right now? He might use the articles to help someone. Or maybe He has a gift for you on the other end of this. But you won’t know until you roll up your sleeves and accept the assignment.” Birdie tucked a stray curl behind Rosalie’s ear. “And it’s even better than that. God’s not like the boss who gives you an assignment and then leaves you to do it all by yourself. He’s a loving father, who walks you through each step. And if you miss one—forget to pray or lose your way—He’s still there, loving you, calling you His child. It’s amazing.” Rosalie longed to trust her newfound Savior. She craved His guidance, His love. But prying her fingers off of her own life, and trusting herself to God, pained her. “I’m so used to only having myself to rely on, Birdie. I like being the one to rivet on my own.” “Yeah,” Birdie conceded. “It’s hard—impossible really—to let go of that on your own. The good news is, sweets, you don’t have to. Even the letting go is by His grace alone.” “You’re right.” “Of course I am. Because it’s the truth of God’s Word.” Birdie nodded determinedly. “Plus, think of it this way, if nothing else, maybe dozens, or hundreds, or who knows how many ladies will sign up to work at the plant to be just like ‘Seattle’s Own Rosie the Riveter.

I DON’T GET IT,” Starr admitted as they stepped off a curb on their walk to town and the festival in progress. “Who is Rosie the Riveter?

As demobilization loomed on the horizon, the image of women as comrades-in-arms was replaced by the image of women as competitors for men. And with this shift came a shift in public opinion. Enthusiastic admiration for Rosie the Riveter was replaced by the prevailing idea that 'Women ought to be delighted to give up any job and return to their proper sphere - the kitchen.' All of a sudden, in every medium of popular culture, women were barraged with propaganda and the value of domesticity . . . Ignoring poll after poll that suggested that the majority of women wanted to continue working, the women's magazines focused almost exclusively on those women who were ready to quit.