requires
anew sense of combined public, private, civic, and corporate responsibility.
In 1996 I flew back to Peoria, to help give a funeral eulogy to my best friend from high school and college, Harriet Vance Parkhurst,
mother of five, Republican committeewoman and ingrained democrat.
Harriet went home to Peoria after World War II, married a high- school classmate who became a Republican state senator, and while raising five kids chaired and championed every community campaign and new cause from a museum and symphony to Head Start and women’s rights. There were front-page news stories and long editorials in the Peoria papers on Harriet’s death. She wasn’t rich and famous, she had no male signs of power. I like to think this new serious
tribute to a woman who led the community in nourishing those bonds once silently taken for granted as women’s lot was not only a personal tribute to my dear friend, but anew sign of the seriousness with which women’s contributions, once masked,
trivialized by the feminine mystique, are now taken.
In other ways, too, it’s the widening of the circle since we broke
through the feminine mystique, not the either-or, win-lose battles, that stirs me now. A reporter asks me, in one of those perennial evaluations of whither-women, What is the main battle now for women, who’s winning, who’s losing And I think that question almost sounds obsolete that’s not the way to put it. Women put up a great battle,
in Congress and the states, to get breast cancer taken seriously, get mammograms covered by health insurance. But the bigger, new threat to women’s lives is lung cancer, with cigarette advertising using feminist themes to get women hooked on smoking while men are quitting.
The large sections in bookstores and libraries now given over to books analyzing every aspect of women’s identity, in every historical period and far-flung nation or tribe, the endless variations on “Men
Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus and how-to-communicate with each other (They just don’t get it, are surfeiting. Men’s colleges have become almost extinct in America. When the courts decree that the Virginia Military Institute and the Citadel can no longer be funded by the state
unless they give women equal, and not separate, military training, the new attempt to claim that separate sex colleges or high schools are better for women, that the poor little dears will never learn to raise their voices if they have to study and compete with men, is, for me, reactive and regressive, a temporary
obsolete timidity.
In colleges and universities from the smallest
community college to Harvard, Yale, and Princeton, women’s studies are not only taught as a serious separate discipline, but in every discipline now, new dimensions of thought and history are emerging as women scholars and men analyze women’s experience, once a dark continent In
June 1996 the first national conference devoted to female American writers of the s, held
at Trinity College in Hartford, received proposals for 250 papers. The level of interest and sophistication of those papers was absolutely unimaginable ten years ago, said the organizers of the conference. The nineteenth-century female writers
“were dealing with the large social and political problems of the time, such as slavery, industrial capitalism and, after the Civil War,
the color line said Joan D. Hedrick, a Trinity College history professor whose biography of Harriet
Beecher Stowe won a PulitzerPrize last year. Women didn’t have a vote during this period—the only way they could represent themselves was through their writing.”
But these writers were ignored as male deconstructionists and their feminist followers wiped out, in the postmodern canon, what professor Paul Lauter termed the idea of sentiment, the idea of tears,
the idea of being moved by literature, the idea of being political.”
And now women are bringing back those larger issues and
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