Sometimes I think in poetic phrases; sometimes I think in
long, explanatory paragraphs. And sometimes I think like a Mexican jumping bean
– sudden, staccato starts and stops… These thoughts have not rhyme nor reason.
All together they make for a busy mind that every now and then produces a gem.
But I really, really wish I could control it. And if I could,
I would stop it from time to time to experience the silence. Oh, yes! I would
welcome the silence!
I would welcome it, no doubt, with words in my head to
describe it. Some words would fall together in poetic phrases. Some words would
line up in long explanatory paragraphs. And some words, I’m sure, would jump
about without direction. All together they would fascinate me with the myriad
of ways that they create descriptions of the silence. But then I would really,
really wish again that I could control it. And if I could, I would once again
will it to stop.
I think this spontaneous thinking stuff is akin to
inspiration.
I’m jumping now, no rhyming here, no reason. Just hot,
cerebral energy popping me back and forth against the walls of my own mental
container.
When I became a teenager, my mother became politically
active. She propelled herself into the center of the women’s movement fighting
for the “ERA”. The ERA was the acronym for the Equal Rights Amendment. I was
mortified to learn that men and women did not earn equal pay for doing the same
exact job, even if they had equal educational training and the same number of
years’ experience. I just couldn’t believe that our country would legally
support such discrimination. I am still mortified, to be honest. When I was a
teenager, however, I was confident that the wrongs would be made right. I
believed, and so I was carefree as my mother threw herself into the cause.
Mom was often gone attending rallies and meetings. And when
she was home, she read and wrote poetry about women – self discovery,
empowerment, pride – these were her themes. She was busy and happy, and as
everyone knows, a happy mama makes for a happy family. Our house was buzzing
with intellectual chatter. Mom hosted gatherings of women on a regular basis.
The phone rang often and she would run to answer it, light up at the sound of
the voice on the other end, and delve into conversation that sounded to me more
like song. Books, magazines, and documents were scattered about the house, all
touting the same message: equal rights
for all. The frantic tap, tap, tap of Mom’s typewriter was a common,
soothing sound in the house.
Though I didn’t join her cause, this time in her life was
very influential on my own development. I took the message to heart. Equal
rights for all truly meant all to me
– not a gender distinction, but a concept that included racial boundaries,
economic boundaries, social, intellectual, and emotional boundaries. I didn’t
join Mom’s cause because I believed that she and her friends would win the
battle. I was innocent, naïve, and absolutely trusting in the ideology that
right would prevail. I didn’t yet know how unfair the world could really be.
When the ERA failed to pass in 1975, I was 15 years old. Mom
was devastated, but quickly bounced back with the hope that it would pass next
time around. I had already been formed by her efforts. She told me I could do
anything I wanted to do and I believed her. I was strong, curious, and
opinionated. Quickly discovering my own independence, I truly believed the
world was my oyster.
Years later, after countless discriminations based on my
gender had defeated me, I felt that the women’s movement had let me down. I
couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do! They had lied! And if I had known the
truth, I might have made different decisions.
I’ve come full circle now because I understand life as a
series of cycling circles that repeat and overlap like a spiral, all in the
process of slowly evolving into something new. We seldom recognize change as it
is happening, but are always surprised years later to look back and see how
different things used to be. I realize that I can’t do everything I wanted to
do, but I also realize how fortunate I am to live my life with a strong sense
of self and self acceptance. The women’s movement taught me to dream big and
reach for the stars. It taught me to believe in myself, and it taught me how to
stand up again, time and again, after defeat and disappointment. These skills
and attitudes are worth more to me than equal pay for any work I do alongside
men.
The men in this world have homes and cars and boats. They
have wives and an entitlement to arrogance. I don’t envy any of that. I covet
my own passions, passions that bled into me from my mother as she discovered
her own voice, her own strength, her own gifts and the joy of sharing them
throughout her life.
We should always fight for equal rights: it is moral and
humane and therefore the right thing to do. However, we must always know that
we are all different, and in our differences, there are inequities. But if you
believe in the ying and yang of the universe, you will see that in the end, these
inequities find their balance.
