Strong Women: may we know
them, may we be them, may we raise them
By
Mary Ann Sorrentino for
11-11-2018
_____________________________________________________________________________
Mid-term election results document American women are angrier than ever and are a powerful political force. Women of both parties voted, were elected at federal and state levels, and turned ballots into lethal weapons.
Depending where
and how often people ask, “Why are women angry?” responses may include—but are
not limited to—disgusted looks, screams, phone hang-ups, swearing, flying
dishes, and threats of divorce.
I am limited to
635 words here, to address 75 years of battling those determined to degrade,
insult, and control women. That’s 8.5 words per year--far fewer per insult.
In 1966 my
husband went to law school: I applied at Boston’s iconic department store,
Jordan Marsh. The interviewer kept me waiting 45 minutes-- feet on his desk--
rhapsodizing on the phone about a party. Finally addressing me, he suggested my
husband—once graduated—might leave Boston.
I agreed that was
a possibility.
Then he suggested
that, as a new bride, I might get pregnant.
I responded
that so might unmarried women working at Jordan Marsh.
Several more
idiotic (now-illegal) questions made me wryly declare, “I can’t swear never to
get pregnant or never to leave Boston.”
Later, as a young
mother in Rhode Island, I founded non-profit organization providing public
education and screening for Thalassemia-- a genetic disease targeting people
with roots in Southern Europe and North Africa. My Board included physicians,
attorneys, educators and relevant community leaders. One—Attorney X—was a
fraternal organization guru.
A physician
called one day about a meeting I knew nothing about. Realizing I-- as
President-- had been shunned, the caller said Attorney X had scheduled the
meeting. I phoned Attorney X for an explanation.
“I thought you
might be uncomfortable at the [then exclusively male] Aurora Club,” he
fumbled.
I responded my
father was a founding Aurora Club member: I had been dining there since
childhood. I reminded Attorney X that if my “comfort” genuinely concerned him,
he could have chosen another venue. He hadn’t. His reply: “As long as your husband
says okay.” (I showed up with a note on my husband’s lawyer letterhead
documenting his “permission” and my determination.)
In 1977 I headed
Planned Parenthood, overseeing Rhode Island’s first outpatient abortion clinic.
The greatest professional challenge I struggled with was having confidentiality
laws silence me when male lawmakers— falsely claiming “pro-life” status
—blocked women’s legal abortion access. Feigning morality through political,
pretenses, they knew that I knew of abortions for women close to them. Imagine
the rage such hypocrisy generates!
Male Catholic
physicians performed abortions in 1985 (as they do now) without the pubic
excommunication I endured. I also asked, “Father, I provide legal health
services women seek. Are you, therefore, forbidding me from taking communion
from the hands of men who sexually abuse children? Is that what you’re saying?”
(Scores of pedophilia cases were filed and settled in RI, and the scandals
continue today: this pushes comparatively saintly Catholic laywomen and others
beyond anger.
Women of every
political stripe still experience similar discrimination and rage—
professionals, factory workers, service-providers, mothers, wives, women who
were and still are told, “Ask your husband first…” or, “…no woman has ever…”
or, “It’s not time yet.” Public, powerful Washington
hypocrites—often themselves genuinely incompetent-- still try to limit women to
second class status.
Mid-terms,
#MeToo, and more are just the beginning. Our gender’s powerful majority can
paralyze those still wishing to shackle us. Tell your stories to your daughters,
sons, and to everyone reading this.
Say—and finally mean-- “Never again!”
__________________________________END___________________________________
Mary Ann Sorrentino (thatmaryann@yahoo.com) a monthly contributor writes from
Cranston, Hillsboro Beach, Fla, and, in summer, from Italy
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