On October 18th, I attended the Loyola sponsored “Global Oneness Banquet.” Upon entering, I was given a card with my name on it that told me I was in the low-income group. Given the nature of this banquet, I just know every single person in this room was going to be used to make an example. As soon as I got placed in the low-income group, I knew I wasn’t going to enjoy this banquet. I sat on the floor, as if I wasn’t already sore enough from the rock concert I attended Sunday night, and all I could think was, this is all going to be a huuuuge joke. Now, I don’t mean a ha ha Drew Carey joke, I mean an I do Service Learning and don’t actually have to be here for any course requirement yet I’m sitting on the freaking floor kind of joke. But, I went with it. We watched some clips, I got to know some cute little freshman sitting near me, it was all good times. Then, “food” was served. So, the high-income group sat down at a candle lit table eating salad and lasagna, the middle-income group had some nice beans and rice and lemonade, and then there was us… the low-income. When we were called, the women were told to stay seating so the men could eat first. As soon as that was said, I was about to walk out the door. There was no way I was spending my Monday night being disrespected because I’m a woman. I live in a family with 3 brothers, 9 boy cousins, 0 sisters and 0 girl cousins. I have spent my entire life proving myself to men, so sitting there being told to stay seated for the men got me fumed. All those years of me changing oil since I was 6 or mowing the lawn since I was 8 meant absolutely nothing. Me proving myself to my family did not prove anything to anyone else. After this, I was ready to go… but I stayed, with my fingers crossed, hoping Rosie the Riveter would bust through those doors and hand me some filet mignon. After that didn’t happen, I just sat there thinking this is what other girls endure. This is what mothers and children face every day in underdeveloped countries. The worst part about it is, is that was ONE meal out of our day. That was not our only meal like it is for others, and we do not have to sit and wait for someone else to eat some of our only meal for who knows how long. It really made me stop and think and say, Rosie the Riveter, don’t bust through my doors, bust through theirs. Bust through every single woman’s door that has to wait for their husband and sons to eat the one meal they get for that week, before she can touch it. Don’t just bust through today, bust through every single day so these women and children and ever their husbands don’t have to go a single day without eating. Sad part is, Rosie the Riveter won’t bust through anywhere, so it’s our job to bust through. It’s our job to find a solution for these people who have no control over this, who are constantly brought down by their society and ours. They works all day just to be given ten cents for a pound of their crops and then once the crops are in the hands of the distributor, the consumer pays 20 times what the farmer was paid. In no world can this be right. This needs to be fought and defeated. These farmers that give us our food and our nutrients are getting nothing but illness, disease, death and starvation. They give us life and we give them death, and there is no way we can sit on our butts and do nothing and it be acceptable. Fair trade organizations cut out the middleman and give these farmers the money they deserve. The only with fair trade is it’s more expensive for the consumer. Being a college student with loans and car insurance to pay, I can’t understand paying three dollars extra just for what SHOULD happen, to actually happen. Shut down fair trade, shut down any and all distributors and start this over. It doesn’t matter what you and from whom, the people who work hard to make the shirts you wear and the food you eat should get fair and equal pay, no matter how much consumers pay for it. EQUALITY AROUND THE GLOBE.