By Meredith C. Carroll Meredith Pro Tem
DESPITE GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE with a minor in women’s studies, I’ve never been too quick to wave a burning bra (especially when having a door held for me if my arms are full or being offered a free drink on ladies night). Countless magazines, newspapers and “hot topic” segments on “The View” have carried on about the struggles of women in a man’s world, forced to find balance or choose between career and family, but I’ve only ever read or watched with a mild curiosity.
My parents instilled in me the belief that among the most important choices I ever will make are where do I want to go, and what’s the best and most efficient route to total achievement. As such, the most pressing decision I was forced to make recently was paper or plastic (I know, I know, I should’ve used a reusable organic cotton bag), and the only thing I’ve had to balance is my checkbook.
I get the feeling Hillary Clinton operates on a similar philosophy (although the checking accounts she oversees probably have much more favorable interest rates). Which is why it’s so irksome that lately she’s been treated as if she’s got a bull’s-eye tattoo on her forehead. If I thought she was being picked on because she has lousy ideas or she’s given some indication she’d be an ineffective leader of the free world, then I would-n’t care. But it’s become increasingly obvious that she’s a target mostly because she’s a strong woman (Cue the smoke coming out of my ears).
While even some of her harshest critics have applauded her policies, Hillary has been incessantly ridiculed for her wardrobe and hairstyles. And there’s little doubt she’ll be judged until her last breath for defending and sticking with her husband after he lied about and then ultimately admitted to an extramarital affair.
John McCain cheated on his first wife (the mother of three of his seven kids) and left her for his current wife. Whispers of him engaging in yet another extramarital affair grew to a roar recently in The New York Times. But amazingly, he had defenders on both sides of the aisle universally aghast that the questionable relationship was made public. And barely a word ever is spoken about McCain’s teeth or Barack Obama’s ears.
Hillary takes heat for personal decisions that kept her family intact. She’s accused of having ulterior motives (the nerve!). She’s been dogged for tearing up before the New Hampshire primary. Forget that she’s incredibly bright and extraordinarily qualified. She’s apt to start sobbing if the president of Ireland breaks a teacup at a White House state dinner, so off with her head.
As bad as it’s been for Hillary lately, I’ve been slightly out of sorts, too. Not so much because I’m struggling with the classic working woman choices, but because, like Hillary, there are those who think they can intimidate me into moving out of the way.
There’s this work acquaintance who has proved time and again to be utterly incapable of accepting that a woman occupies a higher place than he on the professional food chain. He’s made it crystal clear he thinks women are good for little more than secretarial duties and that men should do the figurative heavy.
And despite the fact that he rarely does even a minimum amount of work, he keeps foaming at the mouth, waiting for me to pop out a kid just so he can jump up and down and say, “See! I told you she’d get pregnant and leave! Give me her job! I might not be good at it, but at least I won’t desert you!”
Then there’s a neighbor who’s ripped a page right out of Fred Flintstone’s caveman book. He can’t understand how my husband lets me speak for myself, make my own decisions and even, sometimes, decisions for our family (perish the thought!). When I speak at homeowners’ association meetings, instead of responding directly to me, he looks at my husband as if to make sure I’ve been given proper authorization to open my mouth. To him, women are little more than pests requiring the service of an exterminator.
It’s no secret that overt racism has long been considered socially unacceptable. However, somehow it’s never become a faux pas to wear sexism as proudly as this season’s It bag.
Still, the critics have misjudged Hillary. And I know I’m being underestimated. Thankfully, the latest word is that bitch is the new black. So bring it on. Because this bitch is in the house. And in the office. And the other one is in the Senate, and maybe someday the Oval Office. Either way, I can promise neither of us is on a path off which we can easily be pushed.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on March 6, 2008. Read the original PDF.