by Mona Shaw
I’m old,
and I remember things.
Today is September 9, 2018, and the
sexist treatment of Serena Williams is in the news.
With this
comes quibbling about whether her treatment is truly sexist. This triggers a memory.
For
the 17 years I was a public relations manager in the University of Iowa School
of Music, there were about 60 faculty searches. During each and every search, at least three
men would show up at my desk and say, “Of course, Affirmative Action is going
to make us hire a Puerto Rican lesbian.”
Since
the statement was always the same, it was obvious to me that this was what
men on the faculty were saying among themselves. It was a curious fear, given that when I was
hired, in 1975, there were 51 faculty members and only two women. Those two women were heterosexual and white.
Two more women were hired shortly after I was hired. This cut the ratio in half. Instead of the gender balance being 20-to-1. It had become a threatening 10-to-1.
Many
were furious and blamed this “travesty” on their female director who had been
appointed five years earlier. They were equally furious at her appointment, assuming a less qualified heir apparent on
their faculty would take the helm. When
the search had been pared down to this woman and their heir, it was said a university
female vice-president interceded and saw to her appointment.
She
was hated and mistreated throughout her ten years there. If she failed to wave
at one of them at a traffic stop, this became evidence of her unfitness. It was
ugly to witness. They finally drove her out.
She would retire a decade later as a revered and esteemed dean at
Rutgers University. When she left Iowa, there were 8 women on the faculty, cutting
the balance to 6-to-1. The men were
livid and often said, “Things are going downhill fast.”
Today,
in 2018, the School of Music lists 60 faculty members, 19 are women. This makes the ratio 3-to-1. It’s a wonder they can still function with
all that estrogen in their halls. They
have yet to appoint a Puerto Rican lesbian.
Women
have been historically brutally abused in the academic and professional
classical music world. Perhaps no one
tells that story better than Abbie Conant, who won the position of principal
trombone for Munich Philharmonic Orchestra in a blind screen audition. After
her sex was learned, they immediately tried to fire her. The viciousness of this
11-year attempt was documented by
composer/musicologist/activist, William Osborne in an article entitled, “You
Sound Like a Ladies Orchestra.” It was legendary that she ultimately won her case. However, her treatment was far from atypical.
I have met literally hundreds of female musicians
who, in private, lamented to me about the sexism they endured on a regular
basis. Not one of those women ever
publicly complained about it. It’s
essentially always a career-killer to complain. The odds were far too long to
take the chance. A woman explained this to me.
“I was on a search committee last year, and we
were looking at a stellar c.v. of a woman who’d won a sex discrimination case
at her previous job. The search chair
said, ‘Too controversial.’ and threw out her application. No one, including me, objected.”
During this time, Jean Jew, a research
scientist won her suit of sexual harassment against the University of
Iowa. More accurately, the University
finally stopped appealing previous decisions, after a group of women distributed
a 20-page finding to every faculty member on campus. This changed campus opinion dramatically. Dr. Jew was paid, and remedies were
taken. These remedies included voluntary
sexual harassment workshops given for every department. I attend the one given for the School of
Music. Only one male faculty member from music was there.
I remember this all so clearly. Witnessing this has led me, more than once,
to measure this against my personal experience.
It was a clear match. For every
experience of sexism, I’ve had or witnessed, I’ve kept quiet at least a
thousand times more than I’ve said anything.
At least. I think it’s reasonable
to assume that women suck it up at least 99.9% of the time.
Indeed, I’ve only publicly objected to sexism
three times in my life. I was
gaslighted, blackballed, and slandered for this. I earned the reputation of
being “just a trouble-maker” and “seeing sexism everywhere I look.” As if it were outlandish that I might have witnessed
sexism three times. It’s been rare, but even the women I’ve tried to help
joined in.
‘You’re making us look like liars when we deny
this. You’re ruining our reputations and careers!”
Frankly, they weren’t wrong. I still feel tremendous guilt about that part
of it. I just don’t know how to change
things by being quiet. It’s a “damned if
do; damned if you don’t” conundrum.
Working class and poor women have no hope at
all. You need deep pockets to even consider objecting. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. And a
woman without status is far less likely to be believed or find support.
The truth is that women usually speak out when the
poison in her belly finally boils out of her throat. It’s a “consequences be
damned moment” that women are experts at avoiding. Women are intrinsically
survivors. You don’t do this and survive in one way or another. The fear of
speaking out still usually win. I’m
evidence of this still.
A few months ago, I learned about a horribly misogynistic
act by someone I’ve criticized in the past.
Except for sending what I’ve learned confidentially to three trusted friends, I’ve
decided to do nothing more about it.
I have absolutely no confidence it would initiate
change. And, honestly, I'm pushing 70, and I just don’t want
to go through it all again. Perhaps, I’ve
been beaten. Time will tell, because it
haunts me all the time.
So, given my own reluctance and what's still happening to Serena
Williams, I wonder if the “Me Too” movement has reduced that 99.9% a measurable
amount, especially when you consider all actionable sexism and not just sexual
assault. Then again, Serena is speaking.
I hope I’m wrong.
