If Only For An Instant

"Why are Vietnam veterans a legally protected class of people? I don’t understand why that is necessary." The middle-aged, Native American, female attorney patiently answered: "They needed protecting from me. We threw tomatoes at the veterans when they came home. We called them traitors and baby killers. They had to be sneaked back into this country in the dark of night to protect them."

Later, over lunch, I sat next to a middle-aged, white male "baby killer." He had hardly known discrimination during his life. He was shocked and hurt like a child. "How could she say that? She doesn’t understand. We weren’t baby killers. We helped children constantly. And the press just continued to alter the facts. She wasn’t there. She doesn’t understand." For an instant, I felt his pain. I didn’t brush it off lightly by attributing it to "his time of the month." I tried to hear what he was saying. His pain was real and justified.

More than just listening though, I took comfort in the fact that for a tiny moment the "baby killer" knew what my pain felt like…if only for an instant.

He didn’t acknowledge that he felt my pain, but that was ok. I know that he felt the same pain of words like "Women can’t be engineers. They aren’t any good at math." Clients that said, "I will not have a G. D. woman working on my project." You weren’t there, "baby killer." You don’t understand. "Oh, that room? That’s the faculty bathroom. You can’t go in there. It’s for men only." But I thought I was faculty. I’m confused. It’s not funny, "baby killer." It hurts. Words that no one could possibly conceive of: "Are you the secretary? I wanted to speak to with an engineer. But you’re a woman. How can you be an engineer?" "You can’t sign that drawing unless you put your initials. We don’t want anyone to know that it was designed by a female." Engineering executives that still say today, "Women are getting ahead now because we give them token slots like VP of quality engineering. That’s where women belong. Not in design." Or, "I hire a lot of women project managers because they work cheap." Or more recently from one of my white, male students: "As a professor, you are the stereotypical, scatterbrained female."

The more painful words came from my own gender. "We secretaries hated you before you ever even came to work here." "Why?" I naively asked. "Well, because you are a female engineer, of course." I didn’t understand. That doesn’t make sense. All of my male colleagues were called "Doctor such and such". I was called by my first name by the all-female staff ( or Ms. So and so by my students). When I asked why this was the case, the reply came back "Well, the men worked hard for their PhDs. They deserve to be called by that title." Wow! I always thought that I worked quite hard, too. I know I certainly didn’t sleep with anyone to get my PhD. It was a lot of academic work. Words from females like "I would never work for a female." Why not, I asked in surprise. "Well, you know…they’re such bitches." This coming from supposedly a good friend of mine! Minorities are quick to label a strong woman. They don’t realize that this only belittles the very groups being discriminated against. Don’t they want to improve our lot, we must stick together? I guess not. It makes me hurt and sad, like a child….like the "baby killer" felt…for an instant.

The "baby killer" will return to the white world after lunch not knowing my pain nor the pain of the Native American attorney who taught him to feel discrimination…if even for an instant. He will never know what it feels like to be a stranger in his own lands….a land of European "mongrels" all speaking English. He will not know the confusion of being raised to believe that he has deep family roots from being native of that land, only to start school and be told that he is a foreigner. If he could only feel his teacher’s confusion and pain…instead of resenting her making him feel discriminated against for an instant in his white male world. If you could only walk in our shoes…if only for an instant.

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