When Girls Just Aint Good Enough

When I was a kid, I had to listen to a lot of crap. Not just from boastful boys, but also from well meaning adults. Things I remember being told as a child include:

Boys are just _________________ (smarter/faster/better) than girls.
I can't believe your father lets you ________________________ (play baseball/go fishing).
A man needs a son to carry on the family name and daughters to care for him in his old age.
Girls should play with dolls. Boys should play with trucks.
Girls would be hurt badly if they were hit by a baseball (as if boys wouldn't be).

I used to be shooed out of garages and off back stoops were boys and men congregated. I was told that my mother had called to ask me to come home when she hadn't. You can imagine how these things went over for the tomboy that I was as a kid. It didn't help that all the kids in my neighborhood were boys (with the exception of Sheila Arrington, who didn't like to play outdoors at all). I recall being singled out by other parents from within a group of neighborhood boys and asked, "Does your mother know you are out here?" I used to reply, "My mother wants me out of the house", and that usually satisfied them. But there was a spirit-crushing moment when all my friends were off to sign up for Little League and I couldn't join them. It was worse when they showed up with their brand new baseball gloves and bright white uniforms and colored socks and team baseball hats. I just had to make do with my hand-me-down baseball glove and no cap at all. I can't tell you how lonely it was to come out after Saturday morning cartoons and have the entire block be void of children to play with. I couldn't do much about not being allowed to register for Little League, so I signed up to play slow-pitch softball. Only softball didn't have uniforms or hats. We didn't have team sponsors to pay for all that. I had to go down to the sporting goods store and have my own shirt made. We had a rag-tag league, and worst of all, we had softball gloves that were useless for playing baseball on the block. In all the years I played softball, I don't think I ever broke that glove in. Something else I just remembered. My softball coach was black. In all my years hanging around baseball games with my brothers, I never recall seeing a black Little League coach. I am pretty sure that never happened. I liked our coach. He was waaaaaaaay better than having one of the mothers coach. He knew something about playing ball.

A chum of mine from grade school located me on Facebook yesterday and we got to reminiscing about the old days at good ol' Charles Russell Elementary. In particular, we remembered the school year that girls were required to stay on a 2500 sf asphalt pad that had nothing but hopscotch games and "balance beams" painted on it, while the boys had the run of the playground including all of the playground equipment (swings, teeter totters, monkey bars, baseball diamond, and basically any area containing dirt). The female teachers who supervised children outdoors following lunch militantly enforced these rules. So not only was there institutional discrimination, but there was also segregation. Girls had no balls or any other playground equipment with which to play. I have no idea why this rule was established suddenly and why it was applied only to girls. But I do recall that after about a month of this, we took matters into our own hands and began to protest. We organized. We got our 12" rulers out of our desks. Attached paper with protest slogans on them, taped up our protest signs and began to chant and march around the perimeter of our imprisonment. We had our own little women's movement. I can't recall now if we were successful. I do recall that we garnered the ire of the teachers and principal. We were told by the teachers to "stop being silly". Our protest signs were confiscated. All the evidence, including our names, were given to the principal. The male principal. Mr. Wheeler. The man was a troll. I remember something else. I remember that as the worst year of my young life.

Is this sinking in now? When I was a kid, denying girls equal opportunity was not just some sports issue solved by Title IX. Denying girls equal opportunity was a way of life. An accepted way of life. An enforced way of life. By everyone. Television showed women thrilled to be in subservient positions. I never understood why those damn girls on Little House on the Prairie always seemed to happy to be reading constantly and playing in a 20' perimeter around the cabin. They only hung on the fence and never went inside to ride ponies or poke cows or examine cow shit. They just hung on the fence and had meaningful conversations with Pa.

That was total bullshit. I hated that show.

Memories are funny things. I expected the sting to lesson with age. It hasn't. I recall a serious justification being made by grown men for excluding girls from Little League baseball surrounded the requirement that all ball players wear a "cup". And vaguely suggestive comments about girls needing bras and what would happen if a ball hit a girl in the chest. Hee hee. Funny, huh? Not.

My parents weren't ground breakers. They weren't stereotype busters. They were average parents who never questioned the rules. Oh, they told me things like "you can be anything you want to be" and didn't seem to mind that I wanted to be things that included the word "first". As in "the first woman president" or "the first woman astronaut" or "the world's first female architect". I think this is why I developed this sense that I was going to be notable or celebrated in some way as an adult. After all, I was going to be "the first". It seemed like everything I wanted to do just to be a well rounded person seemed to include the word "first".

When I went to college the very very first time, I trained to become a draftsman because, you know, girls couldn't actually be architects. And I tried to get out and get a job in the construction field. And no one would hire me. No one. In all that time, I had one interview in which I was informed that I wasn't going to be able to wear dresses to work because I'd have to go out to job sites and there would be mud. I tried for months to get a job and finally had to accept a job as a clerk at a pharmacy. I also had to go back to school. I had wasted 'the first" attempt at a college education.

I encountered similar discrimination in the workplace. If there wasn't overt discrimination against women in supervisory positions, there was the added bonus of the fear of competition wherein female supervisors passed over competent women who might compete with them. Let's face it, I just don't have a personality type that is compatible with second-tier status. I think this is a prime motivation why I am seeking a doctorate. I'm tired of being at the mercy of anyone. Good will and staff development my ass. I am so f'ing done with that. What's next?

Being a girl should be good enough. Someone needs to alert China.

Exercising my civic muscles

I voted today. Early. I went to the Jackson County courthouse. Had to wait in line if you can believe that. I purposely chose the courthouse because I knew they didn't have electronic voting machines. I am still a bit suspicious. I feel better now because I had a paper ballot. Paper ballots leave....a paper trail. In case of any recount, there will be no question about for whom I intended to vote.

Barack Obama and Joe Biden. Damn. =)

Ok, I was reading Samhita's post on the role of race in this election over at Feministing and I think I have a last few things to say about this before I await the big count.

First. I did not vote FOR Obama because he is black. Just because: A) I find black men attractive, B) have spoken out on the importance of electing a black American president, and C) have been droning on and on here like a schoolgirl with a crush on the captain of the football team does not mean I voted for him because he is black.

I will tell you exactly what it is that led me, on February 11, 2007, to join the movement to elect Barack Obama. I didn't know about Barack in the Illinois State Senate. I wasn't in his district so he eluded my radar. By 1996, I lived in the western suburbs and never returned to live in the City. My first exposure to Obama came, like almost everyone else, when he gave the keynote speech at the Democratic Convention in 2004. Wow is all I can tell you.

I remember the first time I ever saw Bill Clinton. I was watching C-Span. A freak occurrence back in those days, and they were doing a live feed from the national governors association meeting (I think). Bill was on a panel discussing education reform in Arkansas. I was captivated. I didn't think anything about it for a long time until he announced his candidacy for president and I knew I was voting for him immediately. I knew, from that first little snippet I heard that this man had the right stuff. That night at the 2004 Democratic Convention, I felt that same electricity about Obama. I was all in.

He ran for US Senate against Jack Ryan, a longtime Chicago name in politics. However, a sex scandal which saw Ryan's apparent *cough* sexual fetishes *cough* to come to light as the result of a bitter divorce battle, led him to withdraw from the race. The Republicans brought forward none other than Alan Keyes to challenge Obama, which is to say that there was no challenge mounted at all. Illinois may be an odd place and racial influences have a heavy hand in Chicago politics, but in the city that revered Harold Washington, Alan Keyes was a laughable puppet. It made me feel good to be able to vote for Obama. I was proud of our junior senator if not a little perplexed by all the attention he was receiving. Before he was even sworn into the Senate, reporters were asking about his presidential ambitions.

In any event, as the 2008 election season approached, there seemed to be renewed talk of his candidacy. I couldn't imagine that he would throw his hat in. When he did, I knew that his greatest competition was going to be Hillary. I have read Hillary's autobiography. I was not impressed. In fact, I was incredibly underwhelmed. Let's just say, she's no Madelein Albright. Despite having roots in Illinois, she never really impressed me. I know. I know. I'm a hard one. I'm trying like hell to think of a woman that HAS impressed me. Albright does. Ok. I promise to write a post on women who impress me. Back to the task at hand. February 11, 2007. He announced. That was it for me. I was in. All in.

But I never answered my own question. Why was I all in? Why did I have every confidence in this candidate who, admittedly, lacked the experience that the rest of the field possessed?

1. Intelligence. I have no doubt of Obama's intellectual prowess. I am someone who wants someone infinitely smarter than me in the Oval Office. Bush didn't make the grade. Cheney? Smart but in an evil genius sort of way. McCain doesn't make the grade. Hillary does. But of all these people, Obama is heads and shoulders above the competition.

2. World Vision. By this, I mean, he has a firm grasp on how others receive and perceive the United States. I think too many politicians are blinded by their own "patriotism" and love of country to ever put themselves in the other guy's shoes. And this is one area in which I think race plays a role. In the same way that black people understand that whites fail to grasp their own privilege, Obama's background and yes, his heritage, give him perspective that the rest of the field lacked. They flat out lack it. They can't buy it. They can't see past the tip of their noses.

3. Diplomacy. Diplomacy first. Diplomacy last. Diplomacy always. I am sick to freakin' death of this cowboy mentality that we ride in with our guns blazing and spread democracy by making the other guy stare down the barrel of a gun. See point 2.

4. Economic policy. In fact, virtually any Democratic candidate's economic policy is preferable to me to trickle-down economics.

5. Communication. Read any of Obama's books. Both will impress you with the clarity of his thinking, the soundness of his reasoning, and the sincerity of his emotions. I came away from reading Dreams of My Father with the sense that this is a brilliant man who struggled through a difficult childhood and was smart enough to see that a new world awaited. He is smart, rational and emotionally healthy. He thinks and communicates in ways that most of us wish we could on our best days. He's the real deal.

6. An inspiring leader. Hillary fell flat here. Flat. Prostrate. I'm talking steam roller. Who in recent memory has been a more inspiring speaker than Obama? He inspires not only Americans. He is inspiring the world.

So while I believe that this election offers an unparalleled opportunity for America to grow as a nation--to begin to seriously address our racist past--and to look forward to a post-racial future, I'm not naive enough to think we are there already, despite the campaign that Obama has run. I have discussed many times before why I think it is more appropriate for America to elect a black president at this time than a woman president. I have spoken about why I think that McCain is not the man for this time, while Obama is. I have spoken about my party, my prejudices, and my aspirations.

I want Obama to win. I voted today. Please, please, please. Vote.

Together, we can. Oh yes we can.

The Value of Criticism

Wow. Found this in the WSJ of all places. Guess the Republicans or Conservatives (I'm not sure which Peggy Noonan represents) have conceded the election. It seems I was right. Let's savor this moment.

Ok, moving on. Sarah Palin is not ready for the job, and is so unready for the job that she derailed a strong presidential candidate. But are we being too hard on the woman? Was Noonan over the line? Are the Republicans right to vilify anyone who breaks party lines and criticizes the candidates from within? I don't think so. And despite the fact that I think Noonan is right in every point she makes, it was McCain who derailed his candidacy by tapping her. But what of Palin? She may well be the luckiest person in this whole scenario. Confused? Of course you are.

I am a woman who believes that women have the ability, the drive, and the chutzpah to lead and can and should move into leadership positions in this country. To the sisters. Represent. I used to think I was destined for greatness. Now, I realize that I rattled too many skeletons in my youth to actually be the next Joan of Arc. But trust me, I'd give my left ovary for a policy position at the national level. All I can hope for now is that somehow, I am able to use the talents I have to mentor, embolden, and develop those in whom I see such potential. I don't for a minute believe that we move any woman-advancing agenda forward by throwing our support behind the incompetent, the unprepared, or those who lack an appropriate temperament.

But everywhere I look, I see a sea of women who lack the skills to move into power positions. Case in point. There is one character trait that I earned, thankfully, early in my career that I think all great leaders (male or female) should have. I developed a thick skin. And trust me, you earn a thick skin. I believe there is only one real way to earn it. That is to receive constant, humbling, and piercing criticism. Whether from a parent who constantly criticized your worth, or from a jealous supervisor, or from the anti-intellectual on the street who thinks lawyers/scientists/politicians/doctors are all eggheads involved in a vast government conspiracy to give them HIV/autism/socialized medicine/interrupt Monday Night Football to address the nation in defiance of all that is holy. Power to the people, man. Look, I don't care where you earn your stripes, but your life is going to be a whole lot easier and a whole lot richer once you get there. And you don't just survive it, you must learn from it.

As a writer, I found that even people who can't even write a simple declarative sentence thought they were qualified to critique my work. That sort of criticism was easy to discount. But, I worked for a man named George Rabb, who was the most brilliant son-of-a-bitch I may ever have had the pleasure of knowing. Despite being a world-class herpetologist and quite possibly a genius (and who was ENTIRELY qualified to critique my work), he was really bad with names or so I thought because he always seemed to be under the impression that my first name was Goddammit. You either survived the outbursts, the yelling, the stinging critiques and lived to tell the tale, or you put your tail between your legs and got out. I chose to stay, and in the words of Robert Frost, "that has made all the difference".

When a brilliant person tells you your work sucks, what then? You'd do best to listen. You'd do best to go back and consider why they said that. You'll benefit from figuring out what is right and what isn't in their feedback. You get better. You grow. But does it have to hurt so much? The answer is yes, it does. Why? Because gentle criticism is too easy to discount. Gentle criticism is far too easy to ignore. When someone stands up and tells you that your work is so woefully inadequate that they will not subject the world to your inadequacy any longer, you can bet your ass that you are going to listen. And I'd bet good money that you are going to change your behavior.

For those who have (admittedly, as I did) consistently performed above average in their worlds and considered themselves immune to failure, painfully honest and pointed criticism is a rude awakening to the fact that "above average" is a much broader category than you may have thought. I'm often reminded of an incoming masters student who always seem to assume that he was the smartest one in the room. Oh, the day that he corrected his advisor in front of a class left me chuckling all day. He seemed to be a bit confused about his own intelligence, talents, and abilities. In graduate school, everyone is smart. Trust me. During his tenure, he got a big can of smack.

But I think that developing a thick skin is particularly important for women. No two ways about it. We are coddled in life. We are protected from strife, strong words, and difficulties. This is why I think that you see the differences in the reactions of men and women to the negative attacks in political debates. Women don't like confrontation. Women don't want to see it, hear it, and by god they sure don't want to be on the receiving end of it. I know women who crumble at the first sign of intense criticism. I'll give it to Palin. She hasn't crumbled. She does, however, seem to not used the criticism as a learning tool. She accepts all the blows but never seems to get that she lacks the background, talent, intelligence, dedication to service, and simple curiosity that a person of power must set as their life's driving force. And the criticism hasn't managed to make her take a hard look at herself and want to go back and rectify her inadequacies, but rather to make her more confident in her abilities. Instead of becoming introspective, she just stops listening. And I think I know why. It's because she's not trying to impress those who are smarter, quicker, more learned, better informed than her. It is because she only has to impress those who fall in the below average group. Palin does have talent in politics, but made the fatal mistake of aiming too low. She was given a gift and squandered it.

Failure to develop a thick skin, failure to learn from criticism--this is a failure that can hold back people in nearly every avenue of their lives. I'm not going to lie. I've shed more than one tear over criticism. I have harbored ill feelings. I have cursed the George Rabbs of the world under my breath and not so under my breath. But somehow, I managed to look fear in the face and grow and improve. My advice to women who really want to change the world is to get out there and dare to take everything they're dishing out. And when they smack you down, listen, learn, improve, and come right back for more. IMO, it's the only way to get ahead.