I am a feminist. I realize, when I use that word it means different things to different people. So I ask my readers to wipe their minds clean of all the changes that have taken place to the concept of feminism since Gloria Steinem burst on the scene with her feminist magazine, Ms. I ask them to go back to 1972, when the magazine's first issue was published. I ask them to try and understand the state of affairs in 1970, 71 and 72, when I was new on the job market. When I held my prized BA in hand and presented myself to the world.
Ms. Magazine cover, Spring, 1972. Used under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license. Attribution: Ms. magazine
Before I graduated I was in an incubator of sorts. I was aware generally of the inequality between men and women, but it didn't seem to affect me materially back then. I went to an all-girls high school and a college that was known for its tolerance of, even advocacy for, innovative ideas. So for me, the experience of a work world that discriminated openly against me, as a woman, was shocking.
My job when I graduated was at one of the largest, and oldest charitable organizations in the world. My employers were very kind, even benevolent. They offered a tuition reimbursement plan. If you earned an A, they paid full tuition. They also gave free lunch, which was comprised of a hearty soup and hearty desert. There was no sick leave, because if you were ill, you got paid no matter how much work you missed.
This was a truly benevolent employer, but there was a catch. As I walked around the offices of this organization---these offices occupied the whole floor of a Manhattan high rise--I noticed the bathrooms. There was one bathroom for women. A nice, utilitarian bathroom. Always clean. And there was one bathroom for men. This was the executive bathroom.
Of course I never went inside the men's/executive bathroom, but I could see carpets and luxurious accoutrements as I passed by and the door swung open or closed. It struck me: Built into the design of those offices was the understanding that the executives in the organization would be men, and the office support staff would be women.
Women's Rights Historic Park, Seneca Falls, NY. National Park Service. Public Domain
I have stated that my employer was benevolent. Benevolent, but not generous. I earned $95 a week. True, this was a long time ago, but $95 even back then wasn't enough to live on. It surely was not enough to support a family.
There was only one choice facing me: Find another job. Problem was, every job I applied for was designed for women. They were all office support. Support, support, support. I became frantic. I wasn't just paying for myself. I was also responsible for my mother, and for helping my older sister. She had helped me while I was in college. It was her turn to go to school.
I needed money, so I did the only thing that made sense. I took a job designed for men, a so-called nontraditional job. This was a job with the government, in law enforcement, a job related to nothing I believed in. But it did pay three times my salary.
Of course the position paid three times my salary...it was a man's job.
I turned in my resignation to the consternation of just about everyone in that charitable organization. Everyone except one person. The Executive Secretary to Vice President of the organization approached me. She was dignified. Intelligent, mature--at least 50 years old if not more. I don't think she ever spoke to me before that day, but this time she stopped at my desk.
"You're smart," she said. "This is a dog's life."
When I finally began to work at my new job, did the disparity in the workplace between men and women disappear? No. It actually became more blatant. But the good thing about my new job was that I was working for the government, and (back in those days) the government had to at least pretend to obey the law.
I was handed an official job description and realized that a position had been carved out that was designed specifically and exclusively for women. It was related to the job I signed on for, but distinct from that.
I threatened to sue, because the position, as described, violated the Civil Rights Act of 1964. My papers were changed.
There were other issues, other challenges related to my gender. Acceptance by my colleagues was not complete. After I began working, one of my co-workers said he didn't want women on the job because then the pay would go down for everyone. Once, when I was walking down a stairwell, another colleague grabbed me where Donald Trump once bragged about grabbing women.
For a long time my supervisors refused to send me to a class that prepared us for a higher grade, one that allowed us to work in warehouses. I was told women were not going to work there. Again, I threatened a law suit.
My government job was hard. I commuted two hours each way by bus and train until I moved to a new apartment. I worked late, alone at night, long shifts, and took charge of warehouses in deserted areas. I never asked for or received special privilege. I wanted my persona at work to be gender-neutral.
Once, when a photographer came to take a PR photo for award winners on the job (yes, I actually won an award--two, to be honest), I refused to sit separately from my male colleagues.
I made good money. I hated my job, but I did it. I did everything the men did, and more.
That's feminism. That's all I ever wanted. Give me a shot. Give me a chance. Don't look at my gender. It has nothing to do with my ability, my talent, my ambition.
Gloria Steinem at the LBJ Library, 1975. Public domain
So, I thank Gloria Steinem. I thank Simone de Beauvoir (The Second Sex). I thank all the feminists who came before and made a path for me. By the time I graduated from college there were legal rights I could turn to because of these feminist pioneers. I could, for example, tell a businessman to take a walk, if he wanted to do business with my husband instead of me.
I am a feminist, a 1972 feminist. I don't know what that term means to my readers today. But now my readers know exactly what it means to me.
Thank you for reading my blog. Health and peace to all. Hive on!
