International Women’s Day 2020: Half Empty, Half Full
It’s International Women’s Day. And this year it happens to fall on the Sunday of Daylight Savings Time. Shortchanged by an hour, celebrating on a Sunday, where’s the equality in this? Which sadly, seems all too fitting for 2020.
Last week I sat down with my California voter guide and mail-in ballot as my seven-year-old daughter eagerly inquired. Together we reviewed the voter guide and filled in the bubbles with a black pen, the modern-day equivalent of pulling the curtain shut and my parents telling me which of the levers I could press on the voting machines of the 80s. Not all that interested in the yes/no votes for various propositions and measures, for my daughter, her excitement surrounded a single vote — for the first woman president. Yet my heart ached. For by the eve of Super Tuesday it was clear it would be down to a race between two old white men.
Months earlier, I had shown her the special section of the Sunday New York Times highlighting all of the democratic candidates pointing out the diversity of gender, race, sexuality, age, and background. Last fall I took her to meet Kamala Harris at a rally in Oakland. The selfie we took with her she proudly cherishes. We had watched Amy Klobuchar’s campaign video online. I showed her speeches by Elizabeth Warren and pictures of Kirsten Gillibrand and Tulsi Gabbard. When Kamala dropped out I dreaded having to tell her, and once again after Amy’s announcement. As we sat with the ballot on Monday night I knew that it would only be a matter of days, if not hours, before Elizabeth would also suspend her campaign. And honestly, I was conflicted about who to vote for. But knowing my daughter wouldn’t see the chance again for some time, I let her delight in filling in the bubble to vote for a woman president. And sure enough, by Tuesday night while still proudly displaying my “I voted” sticker I had to tell her there wouldn’t be a woman president for at least four more years.
As Elizabeth Warren humbly announced the end of her campaign in front of her house a few days later, and my phone lit up with texts and news alerts. But it wasn’t just about the end of her campaign. The defeat felt much larger. There was so much promise, not just from Warren, but from all the women running in the primary. So much experience, voice, passion, skill, integrity, talent, empathy. And yet, it wasn’t enough. The glass isn’t just half-empty, it’s cracked and leaking… Now what?
As women, we have to do what often is the case… we pick up the pieces, fix the cracks, and keep going to make sure everyone still has something to drink. I know from experience, it’s the mothers who get up in the middle of the night to help their kids despite being sick themselves. It’s the female colleagues who pick up the extra work that no one wants to do, but needs to get done. It’s the female faculty in academia whose office hours lines are longer as they take extra time listening and advising. It’s the mothers at school who get the snacks, sign the forms, and arrange the playdates. This is not to say our male counterparts don’t ever help with these things, as I’m sure my husband is remarking right now — they do. But study, after study, after study, has documented the unpaid, unacknowledged, uncounted time and effort of “women’s work”. When everyone is tired, and sick, and exhausted, someone still has to clean the wounds, make the dinner, and carry on; and usually, it’s the women.
It’s with this same burnt out feeling I’m trying to take on the task, to keep going when the glass is clearly half empty being held together with duck tape at best. As I look around to pick up the mess on the floor (both of my house and this election), I’m reminded of all the women who are in leadership around me. I’m so proud my daughters are growing up in the city of Oakland with a female City Council Woman, Mayor, State Representative, State Senator, State Lieutenant Governor, and of course our two US Senators (half of whom are women of color). Their mother (and grandmother) worked their way up the career ladder. They are surrounded by women in our community who take on a plethora of roles in science, engineering, art, medicine, owning businesses, making discoveries, creating, building, collaborating and leading in ways I did not always see first hand as a child.
I’m incredibly proud that my daughters are growing up surrounded by something I never saw as a young girl — women running for president. They are growing up where it may not yet be normalized to have a woman president; but running for it, speaking up for it, and fighting for it certainly are. They are growing up in a society that has normalized same-sex marriages, inter-racial relationships, recognition of indigenous lands, gender pronouns, and social justice values. This is not to say that the work is done for them. My work certainly is not done, theirs has just started. But when I think of all this… the glass is certainly half full. And it’s my hope, my dream, my belief, that by the time they’re my age, the glass will not only be full, but overflowing.
Besides, who needs that extra hour? We’re women, we’re used to doing more with less. See you in 2024.
