March 9th, 2008
International Women’s Day: Shaping Progress?
Really, my piece should be titled “The Shaping of a Progressive” because when I was seven, eight, nine, I used to be the one who got to check the mail, and that meant I was the first person in the house to read my mother’s Ms.
I know she had a lot of conversations with herself about this. Was I too young? Was the material appropriate? Shouldn’t she get to read it first? Finally she decided that if I understood it enough to ask questions when something confused me it was fine, as long as I didn’t read it in the bath before she’d had a chance to read it at all. (I was kind of clumsy with magazines and bathtubs back then.)
I thought that was reasonable.
Since then, my mother has been my mentor, my teacher, my friend. We’re close, which isn’t to say that we haven’t been through periods of hatred - I mean, what mother and daughter haven’t? We always worked through our issues, though, and now we’re good friends, although there’s a reason we live 2500 miles apart and in separate countries.
When I was eighteen we became pro-choice activists together, and when I took a job in tech support, at a time when computer professionals were almost exclusively male, geeky, and poorly socialized, she cautioned me about being one of the only women on the team, and not to play the “girl” card. I never did, except in jest. Within a year I was earning more than the boys, anyway.
Now, I’m thirty-seven, and she’s just turned fifty-eight, and we talk about politics a lot, and we’re both a little scared. Why? Because instead of progress we see backsliding. We see women being afraid to identify as feminists because they think to be a feminist means to be anti-male (it doesn’t). We see a viable female presidential candidate being judged more harshly than male contemporaries because of her gender. We see pharmacists refusing to sell birth control because of their personal beliefs.
My mother doesn’t live in the US, so these things affect her only intellectually, but I do, and while I recognize that there are many wonderful things about living in America, at times I’m not entirely thrilled about it.
I mean, yes, we have a female presidential candidate, but other countries have had female prime ministers and presidents decades before us, not to mention the fact that in primary elections she’s pitted against a viable minority candidate, and let me tell you, I can totally appreciate the point of view of a woman who spoke on one of NPR’s Latina radio magazines a few week ago, and found herself crying over which to support.
And while, ten years ago, we could point to traditionally male industries, like the auto industry and proudly show off a number of women executives, today, almost all of them have left the field.
When I was in my twenties, we could point to the slogan “We’ve come a long way, baby,” usurped from a cigarette ad, and agree, that yes, we have.
Today, I’m not so sure.
And there’s a part of me that can show off my years of activism for women’s issues, peace-related issues, etc, and say, “I’ve done my part.”
But there’s another part that niggles at my brain and reminds me that being the change I want to see in the world means that I don’t get to stop. Not ever.
So yesterday, in my personal celebration of International Women’s Day, do you know what I did?
I renewed my subscription to Ms.
Then I called my mother, and told her I couldn’t wait to read the next issue…in the bath.
