At age six, the lovely Madelyn Simone is recognizing that
her world isn’t always a happy place. When I spent some time with her last
week, she made a list of eleven things that made her mad that day. I failed to
get my pen out and record all eleven, but I do remember a few. “I’m mad because
my parents won’t let me wear makeup. I’m mad because Nana won’t let me lick all
the seasoning salt from the bottom of the popcorn bowl. I’m mad because my
friend Austin has to go to his dad’s house on Thursday. I’m mad because my
sister bit my finger. I’m mad because summer is over. I’m mad because I
couldn’t wear my new shirt to school today.” You get the picture.
I felt her pain, even if I was the cause of #2 on her list.
While I believe that another person doesn’t have the power to make us angry, as
we do have some control over our emotions and reactions, I’m not sure her
six-year-old mind could grasp that point. I did sympathize with her, as certain
circumstances and people get me rattled too. But like a good grandmother, I
tried to steer her away from her list of eleven, urging her to see just as many
things that make her glad. After all, isn’t that what Hailey Mills taught me to
do in the 1960 Disney film, Pollyanna?
But you know what, Madelyn? I’m wrong to laugh at your
carefully articulated list of ‘mad,’ because I’m mad as well. I agree with you
about being mad that summer is over, as I love to wander around with bare feet,
eat tomatoes off the vine, and soak in the warmth of the sun. I get upset when
someone hurts another person too, although you do have some responsibility to
keep your fingers out of the mouth of a baby sister who is teething.
What makes my blood boil? I’ve got a list, yet my word limit
only allows room to write about one today. So here goes: I’m angry about the ‘isms’
– the belief that places people in categories where they are seen to have less value
because of the color of their skin, their ethnic heritage, their physical or
mental challenges, or their gender. The result of these beliefs, these biases, is
prejudice, stereotyping or discrimination on the basis of gender, color,
weight, ethnicity, etc.
Some time ago, I heard an interview with former prime minister
Julia Gillard, the first female to serve in that role in Australia. She
pondered the dilemma she faced. “Should we just ignore sexism or should we name
it?” As someone who’s attempted to elevate the position of women in a variety
of settings, I understand the challenge. When sexism (or its various cousins)
is ignored it will continue. But when it’s named every time it raises its head,
the one who names it is labeled a complainer, whiner or worse. ‘There she goes
again, making a mountain out of a molehill.’
In a New York Times Op-Ed in July, Gillard wrote about our
presidential campaign: “Every Democrat, every Republican, every person who
believes that women and men are equal should call out any sexism. . . In 2016,
I hope there are many brave voices naming and shaming any sexism in the
presidential contest. The next generation of potential female leaders is
watching.”
It’s sexism when we ask, can a woman handle the job
(president or auto mechanic)? Does she smile too much, not enough? What is she
wearing tonight? It’s sexism when similar behavior described as ‘focused and
controlled’ (male) becomes ‘cold and calculating’ (female).
I’ve heard it often enough. ‘Come on, JoAnn. Get off your
soapbox. In the grand scheme of things, does this really matter?’ Yes, it does
matter. Who we are must not be limited by brown skin, 3X clothing, wheelchair
use or female genes. Whether in the workplaces and playgrounds of our
neighborhoods or in the presidential race, prejudice, stereotyping and
discrimination must be named for what it is. Because, as Gillard reminds us, the
next generation is watching, including my precious grandchildren and yours.
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