The Fish and the Bicycle: The Women's Movement on a 1970s Shop Wall
Posted by Jon on
We didn’t go looking for this. It turned up while cataloguing 667 sheets one at a time, and by the end there were six of them.
Six transfers about women’s lives, printed for ordinary shop walls, sold alongside the beer jokes and the muscle cars. Nobody printed these as politics. They printed them because they moved. Which is precisely what makes them worth looking at.
The fish and the bicycle — twice

“A Woman Needs a Man Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle.” Irina Dunn wrote it in Australia in 1970, adapting an older line. Gloria Steinem carried it around the world and spent years correcting people who assumed it was hers.
By the time it reached a transfer wall it was probably the most quoted sentence of the women’s movement. And we hold a second sheet with the same joke restructured — “a woman without a man is like a neck without a pain,” in glitter.
Two versions of one argument. You don’t print the same joke twice unless the first one sold.
Housework’s a Bitch

Blunt, funny, and pointed at exactly the thing being argued about in the culture at the time. Sold to whoever wanted it.
I’d Rather Be 40 Than Pregnant
This one is startling on a shop wall. It’s a joke about age, and it’s also a woman declining to be defined by whether she’s having children — being sold over the counter next to Bugs Bunny.
The Sad Housewife, by Roach

“Home Sweet Home,” captioned with no irony marked anywhere, which is what makes it land. From the same printer that gave us motorcycles and the Pink Panther.
Cathy

Cathy Guisewite began the strip in 1976 — the first widely syndicated American comic by a woman about a single working woman. It ran thirty-four years.
Ours says “My Jeans Shrunk.” It sat about a foot from “Beer Drinkers Make Better Lovers.”
Why this matters
Cultural history usually gets written from the things people meant seriously — the marches, the books, the speeches. This is the other record. It shows an argument arriving in ordinary commerce, in a form somebody was willing to pay a quarter for and wear to the shops.
The transfer trade had no politics. It printed whatever sold. That is exactly why it’s such a good instrument: the wall registered what people actually wanted to say about themselves, with nobody curating the result.
Six sheets is not a movement. But six sheets, from multiple printers, including one joke run twice, is a market. Somebody was buying these.
If you sold transfers and remember how this material moved — who bought it, whether shops hesitated to stock it — we would very much like to hear from you: irononstation@gmail.com
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