The month of March often conjures up thoughts of strong gulf-stream winds, longer days accompanying the Spring solstice, vibrant blooms finally escaping winter’s grip, and a sudden onset of a national obsession with college basketball known as March Madness. Very few of us ever remember that March is also Women’s History Month. Well, it is. And in celebration of Women’s History Month, I want to take a moment to offer my reflections on the remarkable past, hopeful present, and promising future of the dazzling and indomitable young women of my generation.
As much as I hate to admit it, in so many ways, I am my mother’s daughter. I am that no-man needing, overachieving, career driven, forward thinking young woman that my mother always dreamed of raising. Young women of my generation, more often than not, are the daughters of mothers who came of age in a time of unprecedented cultural change and dogged feminism. They were encouraged to openly challenge the status quo, explore their own sexuality without shame, and value intellectualism above traditional female roles. Our mothers took charge on the home front and in the workplace. They made us smart and confident and probably too strong for our own good.
We emerged a grand amalgamation of mixed blessings. The number of female CEO’s has multiplied greatly in recent decades; yet we still only make roughly 90 cents for each male dollar. We are earning college degrees at a breakneck pace, yet mothers still make up the majority of people living in poverty. We are entering the halls of Congress and governor’s mansions in record numbers, yet we are still disproportionately under-represented in government. We fervently search for that elusive “work-family” balance as the divorce rate skyrockets. We aimed for the pristine perfection of Claire Huxtable and have landed somewhere near the supreme complication of Olivia Pope. And that’s okay. We are still growing.
As we move forward, it is imperative that we strike the delicate balance between harnessing our own power and acknowledging our vulnerabilities with honesty. We’ve succeeded in making the world stop and take notice and accept us exactly as we are. Now we must do the same for ourselves. As modern women, all too often we turn out to be our own toughest critics. If we truly believe in the words of Chaka Khan’s anthem, I’m Every Woman, we have to learn to truly love every woman- the housewife, the hood rat, and the heroine. In our quest for the holy grail of feminine dynamism our imperfections can either be stumbling blocks or stepping stones. Every moment spent in judgment of another woman is a moment wasted. That exact moment could have been used to encourage, influence, or inspire another woman. The true power of womanhood lies in sisterhood. So this Women’s History Month, and every month, let’s make it our business to lift our sisters and love our sisters- unconditionally.
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