Spotted Dog

My first ambition was to be a waitress. Or a firefighter. Or an astronaut. My aspiration to restaurant service was inspired by the waitresses at the Red Rooster Drive In. They wore short skirts held out by scrunchy crinolines, roller-skates, and they could carry a loaded tray balanced on one shoulder and one hand. The firefighter is easy –what more could a girl need than a red truck and a black and white spotted dog. The astronaut; well I have to admit the bulky spacesuit and huge round helmet were not attractive. It must have been the idea of orbiting the world in a silent space all my own (being fourth of six children will do that to you).

My parents were not thrilled by the scope of my dream to make milkshakes and skate around the round Red Rooster building. Neither one had read Dr. Spock so they felt no compunction about actively dissuading me from my goal. My father had vague, grandiose ambitions for me, predicting that there would be a female president by the time I was an adult (Uh, Dad, you underestimated a bit), and alluding to the diplomatic corps from time to time. Ironically, he told me in no uncertain terms “girls can’t be astronauts”, a statement I accepted without question since he worked for Bell Aircraft Missile Systems.

My mother, far more pragmatic (and probably hoping to protect me from the slings and arrows she felt awaited me) told me I should take up nursing or teaching, until I had a family. I can almost feel my head cock to one side as I write this, and I’m sure the quizzical look I gave my mother confused her. I remember thinking “I thought all those Miss America ladies were just trying to fool the judges when they said that.” I was shocked to hear those very words from my fourth grade classmates when we talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up.

All this reminiscing was brought about by a recent conversation I had with a young professional. Over the course of our conversation she told me that she thought my generation had made things easier for hers, but that we were “bra-burners” and that we had gone too far. To say I was stunned would be an understatement. I can remember that when I entered graduate school, in a class that had only 19% women, the belief was that the changes we were striving for in gender equality would not be seen in our life times.
Now I was listening to someone tell me that the fight that made her own education and professional path so much easier had ‘gone too far’.

In a way, I guess it might be a good thing (can you get any more conditional than that statement?). If education and opportunity are so accessible to young women that they can look back and criticize the women who fought for that access, a new norm is so well established that it would be difficult to erode. Still, it was only a very deep breath and counting to ten, or maybe twenty, that gave me the wherewithal to nod knowingly and say, “I know a lot of people think that.”

I wonder what such a young woman would have done if her own father had looked her in the face and said, “Girls can’t be astronauts?” Would she roll her eyes and walk away? That would be the best expression of the true progress we’ve made.

I never did get to ride on a fire truck. So if any of you work for the fire department or know someone who does, see if you can arrange it for me. I’ll bring my own spotted dog.