Chief Writing Wolf

Around the turn of the century, I saw news that a women’s college here in the U.S. had contemplated admitting men within a year or two.  The shock and outrage from the female student body was as palpable as it was vociferous.  Ironically the institution had a male chancellor at the time.  He tried explaining to the crowd that the college was trying to maintain its viability, but his voice was suffocated by the intense hysteria.  You would have thought the incoming male students would be selected from a sex offender registry.  I’m sure those young women had long since bought into the feminist myth that all men are naturally prone to violence, especially sexual assault.  Almost immediately, however, the college rescinded its decision, much to the delight of the students.  That same male chancellor made the announcement by unfurling a banner that bore the term “For Women Again”.  The crowd erupted into cheers of relief; some even popping open bottles of champagne.

At the bank where I worked at the time, the subject arose during a lunch conversation.  I was the only man in the small group, and my female colleagues collectively agreed that they understood the reticence of that college’s students to admit men.  But, of course, I had to opine by highlighting the obvious anger those young women expressed at the initial announcement.  “I wonder what those little girls will do when they enter the adult world and have real problems.  And there’ll be men all over the place, and there’s not a goddamn thing they can do about it.”

I suppose my constituents weren’t surprised by the statement, but to some extent, they had to concur.  There was a time when the genders were explicitly separated, and everyone seemed fine with it.  Men did this, and women did that.  And things functioned relatively well.

But I pointed out that, if women want true equality, they have to accept that men are part of that equation.  In many ways, for centuries, men have excluded women from the decision-making process; claiming there was a “place” for them.  Women have fought back and demanded a place at that proverbial decision-making table.

Oddly one of the women sitting with me in that lunch room didn’t believe women should be in positions of power, such as the U.S. presidency.  “We have too many emotional and hormonal problems!” she said, much to the shock and chagrin of the other women.  She wasn’t the first woman from whom I’d heard that.  But this was 2000, and I was certain such beliefs had been relegated to ancient times – like dial phones.

A few years before that particular conversation a similar debate arose among me and some female colleagues at the bank; another one about gender parity.  I noted that, if women wanted true equality with men, they needed to start registering for Selective Service – like the men have to do.  In the U.S., Selective Service is the most blatant form of sexism.  The current system was reinstated in 1980 by then-President Jimmy Carter.  Every male in the U.S. born since January 1, 1960 has to register for it within 30 days of their 18^th birthday.  In the face of a never-ending Cold War and the sudden Iranian hostage crisis, it was a call-back to an older time in America.  There’s no penalty for late registration, but there are plenty of punishments for failure to register – including jail time and a six-figure fine; no admittance to college; and no financial aid.  The issue was a big one when I was in high school and it became a concern during the 1991 Persian Gulf War.

In the aforementioned workplace conversation, one of my female colleagues – the mother of a single college-aged son – responded, “When men get pregnant,” before storming off.  Another woman concurred with a laugh.  But I pointed out that men have to register for Selective Service; otherwise, face some serious legal repercussions.  Women, on the other hand, don’t have to have children if they don’t want.  There is no law that compels women to get pregnant.  My female cohorts couldn’t offer a logical reply.

All of that came back to me last week, when Vice-President Kamala Harris accepted the Democratic Party’s nomination as presidential candidate.  She’s only the second woman and the first non-White woman to be so honored.  This year’s presidential campaign has literally turned out to be the oddest in decades; certainly the most unusual in my lifetime.  And at the age of 60, I don’t have too many first time experiences left.

I started coming of age in the 1970s, just as the contemporary feminist movement was making more concerted inroads into a patriarchal American society.  I recall how just being male seemed to become anathemic.  Many women demanded full and complete equality with men in every aspect of civilization.  Yet, by the 1990s, I noticed some women (and men) expected a double standard.

Women can’t reasonably demand to be treated as equals to men in business and politics, yet still expect to be placed in the same category as infants and children when it comes to their health and welfare.  In other words, don’t insist on being given the chance to be the CEO of a major corporation, a governor, a Supreme Court justice, or president of the United States and still want to be the first ones in the lifeboat when the ship hits the ice berg.

If you want equality, I’ll give you equality.  But, remember the old saying: be careful what you wish for; you might just get it.  When it comes to progressive attitudes, I sometimes think of the 1967 film “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner”.  Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn portray a liberal San Francisco couple whose all-inclusive ideology is tested when their daughter (Katherine Houghton) introduces her fiancé (Sidney Poitier) to them.  While the movie is rife with stereotypes, the general message is essential: how sincerely should people value and hold onto their beliefs.  The presidency of the United States has often been deemed the ultimate “glass ceiling” for women.  As we march further into the 21^st century, members of every previously-marginalized group need to consider how much shattered glass they want on the floor of progress.