My great-great-aunt Frances died last month at the age of 108. She was born in a time when horse carts were still common and, in her life, saw not only the emergence of cars but airplanes, space shuttles, radios, televisions, cell phones and computers. She was nearly my age when women were granted suffrage and was still alive when the first woman ran for president. In fact, her son graduated from Dartmouth 20 years before women were allowed to matriculate; she would have been, in short, a walking source of American women's history.
I thought of all the changes she had seen as I walked through Monday's exhibition in Collis common ground entitled "Heavy Doors" on the history of women at Dartmouth. The exhibit featured photographs, newspaper articles, letters and other artifacts concerning women at Dartmouth in the past 40 years. It was amazing to me to see the way life has changed for the better for women at Dartmouth: co-education is no longer perceived as revolutionary, but as a natural part of secondary education. Unlike the women who attended the College in 1973, daughters of Dartmouth today are not likely to find a letter under their doors (a copy of which was on display at the exhibit) saying, among other, cruder sentiments: "Your mere presence at this institution is in direct confrontation to the goals we consider sacred."
Yet, as the title of the exhibition suggests, the "heavy doors" of gender equality are not fully opened. As much as things have changed, I was surprised and disappointed to see that one of the major themes in the articles on display was that sexual abuse and violence were important issues on campus then as it does now and that much attention was placed on the ways in which greek houses contributed to this problem.
We have our mothers and grandmothers to thank for all of the work that they did and the barriers they overcame so that men and women at Dartmouth today face much less gender discrimination than those who came before us. Still, as tempting as it may be to tell ourselves that gender inequality does not exist, it is essential to understand that it still does. No one should have to know sexual abuse and no one should feel objectified by a t-shirt or a blitz. Furthermore, we must look beyond our Dartmouth bubble: in the United States, according to the National Committee on Pay Equity, women still earn 78 cents to every dollar a man earns and the upper echelons in business, education and government are largely dominated by men. More basic human rights abuses occur elsewhere in the world. Just a few examples: the United Nations estimates that 130 million women in the world today have experienced female genital mutilation and up to 5,000 women are murdered annually in "honor killings." Women represent, by some accounts, 70 percent of people in poverty worldwide.
This is not a gripe or a rant. I understand how lucky I am to have grown up in world where I was always told as many of my peers, both male and female were that men and women are equal. What better way, then, to honor those who came before me, those who ensured that I would have the rights and opportunities they did not, than working for equality where inequality still exists? How? We, both men and women, can do this by taking a Women and Gender Studies class, by reading Half the Sky, by attending a WGSTea discussion group, by telling your friends or classmates or housemates that a sexist joke wasn't really OK and by finding out ways to volunteer and work for equality both at home and in the world. In fact, the newly announced Task Force on Sexual and Physical Assualt is a great step in the right direction ("College to create new sex assault committee", May 13). Education, understanding and passionate, hard work are the necessary means by which gender equality can and must be achieved.
My great-great aunt Frances saw 108 years worth of struggle for gender equality. As the "Heavy Doors" exhibition in common ground showcased, for all the changes and advances that have been made, there are still many more road blocks on the path to gender equality. My hope is that my great-great niece or my own daughter for that matter will see all of these inequalities only as things of the past and it's up to us to work toward that goal.