I am not angry at the outcome of the 2016 presidential
election; rather, I am frightened.
I am frightened because in 1972, when I asked the high
school principal for permission to take auto shop--not because I wanted to be
the only female in an all-male class, but because I was truly interested in the
workings of engines--he refused permission. His reason: I might get my dress
greasy. Sadly, at the time, I accepted his verdict.
In the late 1970’s, I wrote an article for a journalism
class on women in the petrochemical plants in south Louisiana. My father worked at Dow Chemical, so I got
access to women who were breaking into this traditionally male domain at a time
when women were still pushed into more traditional career paths such as teacher
and nurse.
I am frightened because in 1975, I found myself pregnant
outside of wedlock. Roe v Wade had recently been decided. Our first impulse was
abortion. After consideration, we decided to have that child. While I am grateful
every day that I had that child, I cannot imagine forcing a woman to bear a
child under any circumstances.
I am frightened because in the late 1970’s, a church-going
woman told me that infidelity in husbands was excusable because that’s the way
men are. They cannot help themselves.
I am frightened because of all of the times over the course
of my life when men made passes at me, expecting that of course I was attracted
to them and should be quite happy to accommodate them sexually, regardless of
my relationship status. At one point in the early 1980’s, I actually moved from
an apartment because it was the easiest way to deal with a neighbor who was
sexually harassing me.
I am frightened because when I entered a master’s program in
the early 1980’s, a well-meaning man advised me to drop out because men do not
like educated women. I met his suggestion with indignation. However, he was
right. In the mid-2000’s, while part of the on-line dating scene, several men
verified this sad truth for me.
I am frightened because of the discrimination I faced in the
workplace as a petite white woman who for years looked younger than her years.
I am frightened because my story is not unique among my
female friends or American among women. Most of them have their own narratives
of being marginalized, demeaned, and objectified.
What frightens me is that president-elect Donald Trump is
the man who denied permission for me to participate in a class non-traditional
to females. He is the man who pushed women into occupations appropriate for
women, who fought against and is still fighting against reproductive rights. He
is the man who sexually harassed me into moving, who encouraged me to stay
uneducated, who enforced the glass ceiling. He is not my president, and I will
fight the good fight to protect the gains that women have achieved.
