March is Women’s History month, which this year includes my seventy-ninth birthday. Until my teens, before I understood evolution, I actually believed that Eve was made from Adam’s rib. Until my thirties, I bought into the nonsense that a woman’s role was to be an adjunct to a man, always the wind in his sails, merely his helpmate. Now we women are gradually taking our equal place in the world, though more in some parts than in others.
In 1962, shortly after my twentieth birthday, I sacrificed my final year and a half of study for a BA so I could be married and support my husband’s pursuit of his goals. As one of many pink-collar workers at a government-funded institution, I was expected to call all the bosses “Mister,” while the male blue-collar workers called the same bosses by their first names. I presume those blue-collar males were also paid more than we women were, though they had no additional skills beyond a high school diploma, whereas we stenographers had to pass shorthand and typing tests in addition to completing the twelfth grade.
Now, fewer industries distinguish between male versus female jobs. Where female presence is lacking, there’s a strong call for diversity. It’s natural for people to push their boundaries, and sexually emancipated women push. More than ever, we question our roles in this world and conclude that we want equal standing in our business and romantic relationships.
The number-one reason for the exponential advance of female power in the last half century is easily accessible and inexpensive birth control—primarily “the pill.” Not until 1962 was I aware of that innovation, and upon my first marriage became one of the first to use it. Just a few years later, I became aware that a bride’s virginity was no longer societally sacrosanct. Young, hormonally charged women no longer married to have sex; they could toss aside their virginity with impunity. Along with the near elimination of unplanned pregnancies, the sexual double standard has nearly ended.
Women no longer take on the burden of putting hubby through college. In 1962 I chose that burden, but was fortunate to put off pregnancy till I felt a strong desire for motherhood. Now that women can satisfy their sexual yearnings without marriage, and can plan their pregnancies, the smart ones first complete their educational and vocational goals.
The virginity men once expected of their brides has been replaced by expectations of an education and income comparable to their own. Career women with good salaries expect equal partnerships with their husbands with regard to household and parental duties. When modern married couples decide they’ve had enough children, most educated husbands choose a vasectomy rather than expect their wives to undergo tubal ligation (which can cause daily vaginal bleeding).
Admittedly, it’s not only birth control that’s increased sexual equality. During my lifetime, I’ve observed the arrival of conveniences, affordable by middle-class families, that have made home and childcare easier: central heating, washers and dryers; dishwashers; vacuum cleaners; multitudes of packaged and canned goods; wholesome frozen meals; microwave ovens; disposable diapers; and electric breast pumps. Earlier, my father and maternal grandparents became part of the middle class that welcomed ready-made clothes, plumbing and flush toilets, electricity, refrigerators and freezers, and gas and electric stoves and ovens.
All of the above allowed mothers more time to be employed without being overwhelmed—assuming that the fathers devoted their fair share to what used to be “women’s work.” With two adults sharing what the previously stay-at-home housewife did, their children could have enough, or nearly enough, parental attention even though both parents worked away from home. COVID-19 influenced businesses to allow many former office employees to work from home. Presumably, after this insidious virus loses its punch, more people than ever will have the option—and some the expectation—of working from home. Thus when one or both members of a couple remain at home for jobs that don’t require daily interaction with the public, separation of the sexes will be further blurred.
When I was an entrepreneur and a newly single mother of a seven- and nine-year-old, I worked at least 50 percent more than a typical employee. I became envious of the many men whose wives undertook the major portion of childcare and housework, and of the few women whose husbands shared those responsibilities. I’m relieved that my daughters became financially successful despite their not having received all the parental time they deserved. The one plus that my demanding career engendered was that it led both of them to expect lucrative professional jobs for themselves.
Since 1975, when I founded my industrial-wire business in a male-dominated arena, I’ve experienced and analyzed female evolution. One of my earliest childhood memories was the painful realization that my mother valued my brother over me. Around age five, when my two-year-old brother loved to hit me when Mommy wasn’t watching, I’d get in trouble for hitting him back. He’d yelp and then look adorably innocent. Refusing to believe he’d hit me, Mommy would say, “Mother’s little angel wouldn’t do that.” At the time, I thought it was simply that Robby was pretty and I wasn’t. By my late twenties, however, I’d concluded that my brother and I were equally attractive, and only his anatomy made him superior in my mother’s eyes.
Fortunately, Daddy hid his favoritism throughout my childhood, but unlike my kind and loving father, my maternal grandfather wasn’t so benevolent. At a young age, my mother learned that for days after her birth, her father was too disappointed to look at her. I’ll always wonder if my grandma had told him early on that her limit was one baby, and that he knew he’d never get another chance for a son. Nonetheless, Grandpa eventually came around and spoiled his adored daughter to the point of absurdity. He cut her meat until she was twenty-one and married, and he told her his life wasn’t worth living when she and Daddy moved to another state.
My mother, however, has a bitter memory of hearing a man say to her father, “What a shame she can’t be a boy.” Knowing this, I try to forgive my mother for thinking less of me than I deserved. After all, despite her having been a straight and very feminine woman who never craved a career, she always lamented that she hadn’t been born male. Thankfully, I’ve never experienced penis envy—except when stranded with a full bladder in a location with no bathroom.
To Be Continued