The Plain Dealer
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Connie Schultz
Plain Dealer Columnist
When the invitation came, I wasn't sure I was up for it.
The Feminist Majority and the National Organization for Women were holding a reception at the University Club in Denver last week. Clever feminists that they are, they called it a Women's EqualiTea, and asked me to come.
Sistahs.
Normally, I would jump at the chance to spend time with so many strong women energized to do good in the world. But it's been a long 12 months, what with so much nasty coverage of Hillary Clinton and the low-grade fever still afflicting many of her supporters. It's not that it's hard to be a feminist at my age; that's as un changeable a part of me as my boot size. I just didn't know if I was ready for another round of anger and angst, no matter how justified some of it is.
But the reception would include a tribute to U.S. Rep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones, whose death last week left so many of us reeling. She had planned to attend the event, and loyalty to my departed friend squeezed out the self-pity. It helped to chant my ever trusty it's-not-about-me, it's-not-about-me mantra. Boy, that thing's handy.
When I walked through the entrance, it wasn't hard to find the reception. I just followed the loud laughter and found myself in the middle of a balmy room brimming with more than 500 women listening and talking with equal enthusiasm. There was the usual assortment of longtime activists, including feminist icons Ellie Smeal, Ellen Malcolm and Kim Gandy, and also several female members of Congress. I walked around and silently said, "Well, I know you, and you, and you . . . "
But what stunned me was that easily a third of the crowd was under age 30. Even though I'm used to feeling like Conniesaurus Rex when it comes to being the feminist in the room, I almost had to reach for a chair.
One of those young feminists was 28-year-old Faith Winter, the youngest woman elected to public office in the state of Colorado. She is a city council member, but she is also national field director for the White House Project, a nonpartisan group dedicated to electing more women to public office.
I first met Faith several months ago at a conference in Columbus, and she left the kind of impression that makes you happy to run into her again.
She is an irresistible combination of kind and committed, and I called her the next day to ask why so many young women like her bothered to show up.
"We were impressed by so much power in the room," Faith said. "All those women with all that experience - we'd never seen all of them standing in one room together before."
When I told her I was surprised by the numbers of young women, she gently chastised me. Of course they would be there, she said.
"Our mothers and grandmothers brought us up to believe we can do and be anything. We actually believe that. We never experienced any sexism growing up. We never doubted who we could be."
For women like Faith, the term feminism isn't offensive, just outdated.
"I call myself a feminist, but I don't self-proclaim," she said. "I own it, and I'm proud of it, but I usually say I'm a feminist only in response to a question. My generation is less likely to identify with labels. It's not just that a lot of us don't call ourselves feminists, we're less likely to say we're Democrats or Republicans, too, or environmentalists. It's not because we don't share the values of these groups. We do. But they strike a lot of women like me as titles of absolutism."
I hadn't given much thought to the possible limitations of the word feminist. For me, being a feminist was mostly an act of gratitude to so many women who had sacrificed so much by the time I came of age.
"We are the new feminist movement," Faith said. "Our generation wants to be for something, not against something."
A question of semantics, maybe. But this is one old-time feminist buoyed by the new wave they're riding.
To reach Connie Schultz:
cschultz@plaind.com, 216-999-5087
