It’s true that I keep track. I have kept track since I was a girl, and I am officially an old woman now . . . so it’s been a long time. I have noticed for at least fifty years. I stay for the credits in films and search for women among the crew. I count who is asked to comment and what percentage of teams on news programs and Boards of Directors are male and female, white and people of color. I look at the genders of the people thanked in author’s acknowledgements. I count whose books are reviewed and by whom. When I went to the Faculty room at my local high school where I taught for 30 years, one table was crowded around by men, and women were not welcome at that table—seriously. I tried. I complained about this for years, literally years. Recently I said out loud in that lunch room, to the only other person at my table (a woman), that I planned to take a photo. I called the situation a “toxic work environment.” One of the men immediately suggested to administrators that maybe it was not right the way men crowded around one table and ignored the women in the room. Now there is a brand new, long narrow table, forcing everyone to sit at one table. This has, sadly, come far too late to address the “good old boy” atmosphere at this school.
Years ago, when the football, cross country, and volleyball coaches refused to allow formation of a soccer team, I was the one who suggested to a class of seniors: One of you must have a parent who is buddies with a school board member . . . and there was a soccer team.
It didn’t seem fair to expect the girls’ softball team to perform all maintenance on their frequently-flooded field while the boys’ baseball team had a brand new, non-flooding facility. And there was a lawsuit, but not until after several people tried to reason this out with those in power and were blown off. My sympathies were less with my employers than with the girls, who had for years dealt with the situation.
So, yes, I am one of those people on the side of the underdog, one of those people who keeps track. I notice when all the people in a room are white. I notice when only men populate a Congressional panel on women’s health. I notice when the only female person on a film crew is the “script girl.” And I notice when only men get book reviews. As Editor of the New York Times Review of Books and a woman, I might have hoped for better from that editor, but all the books recommended today are by men. One of the men is Mexican American (reviewed by a Vietnamese-American man). The illustration and one of the reviewers are women. Not enough. Not nearly enough!
Do better, please. I cannot believe that only men’s stories were published recently. I cannot believe that any special effort is required to ensure that there is some representation of the broad diversity of experience and perspective within our literature. The illustration below suggests that we all sit at the same table. I would like that to be true.
What came in an email:
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IMPERFECT PATIENCE 