After college, I entered the work force. My chosen profession (teaching) was one that is traditionally dominated by women. It is also not well-compensated or well-respected. I was really proud and passionate about it because I wanted to help people and make a difference in their lives. But I soon learned that few others outside my profession seemed to share my enthusiasm. Occasionally, I would run into someone who would give me a sort of pitying congratulation on my chosen path. But these were typically people in better-compensated fields who seemed to think I was overly idealistic.
Most people, however, seemed to think that I was likely a dim-wit who just couldn't do any better. Obviously I had fallen into teaching because I couldn't do anything else. It couldn't be anything other than a last choice made of desperation. Their eyes glazed over when I told them what I did. They were bored. Working with children clearly was not an endeavor that most adults I met thought intelligent people did as their life's work. The attitude seemed to be that children are stupid, thus, adults who work with them must be as well. I was young and impressionable. At the time, I think I accepted this way of thinking to some extent. I did not stay in my chosen profession beyond four years. Though I enjoyed it and felt like I was making a difference, my mind had been poisoned and I kept thinking that my brilliance would be dimmed if I did that kind of work for 30 years. I figured I needed to find a "real" career to challenge myself. I decided on law.
Something interesting happened when I made the decision to go to law school. Up until that point, when I was in social situations and people asked what I did, they seemed bored and completely unimpressed by my answer. But when I began to add that I was applying to law schools, their eyes perked up. Folks were definitely impressed by that. Over the years, they became even more impressed when the answer was "I'm a law student" or "I'm an attorney." And they would almost fall out of their seats when I would tell them my specialty was corporate tax law. The same people who looked at me with boredom and pity began to show me more respect. A LOT more respect. They went from condescension and thinking I was not worthy of their time to admiration and acting like I was too good for them.
Those reactions really taught me a lot. My IQ had remained the same all that time, but people's estimation of my IQ changed tremendously. Note that I had been perceived as a dim-wit and dull when I was working with children in a female dominated profession. But I was viewed as highly intelligent when I was working in a traditionally male dominated profession with just adults, without children. Back then, I would have thought it was a coincidence, but now I recognize it is not. Traditionally female jobs (e.g., nurse, secretary, maid, nanny, grade school teacher) are not respected or paid well. But if you go into a traditionally male job (e.g., doctor, manager, professor), people are much more impressed and you are much better paid. Moreover, in our country, despite our insistence on "family values," we don't really value children. Further, we certainly do not respect people who care for them. More on that later.
But during my 20s, I was somewhat insulated from gender issues because I began my work life in a female dominated profession. There were so few men beyond the head custodian. It was a bit like being in a convent!
In law school too, I was somewhat insulated. My class was apparently the first in our school's history to have approximate gender parity in the incoming 1L class. That was a little surprising to me. I did not really think about law being a male dominated profession. There had been plenty of women in LA Law when I was a kid. And Ally McBeal was a hit at that time. I had the impression that there had been plenty of female lawyers for a while. That I was wrong was evidence of my naiveté. I wasn't even too interested in the fact that I was part of the first class to achieve gender parity. As long as we had parity while I was there, the past (even recent past) didn't seem to bother me.
Moreover, even though the Socratic method was tough and even cruel at times. I didn't perceive the professors as being disrespectful to the women any more than towards the men. I witnessed quiet, non-aggressive men being pummeled by tough professors. And plenty of outspoken women in my class stood up to the most overbearing profs. I didn't see a gender difference. Nonetheless, it was generally understood that it was the female students who were more likely to break into tears over a particularly rough Socratic lashing. However, this did not strike me as a huge gender issue. I felt reasonably well-respected by my colleagues and professors in law school. I did not feel disrespected due to my gender.
Meanwhile, in my 20s, I fell in love and eventually married a great guy. We had met at church in college. He was a professional in a Fortune 500 company. He was proud that I aspired to be a lawyer. More importantly, he was supportive of my aspirations in meaningful ways. For example, he was willing to relocate to another city for me to attend law school. Though we considered that seriously and even made a trip to another town to scout out places to live, I didn't end up taking him up on that option because a local school was a better fit. But he supported us financially when I quit teaching to go to school full-time. And he even agreed to do 100% of the housework while I was in school so I could focus on my studies. I'm fortunate that his was not a passive "support." I've always credited him as having helped me achieve what I did as a law student.
Despite all this, there were two things that did make my radar a bit as possible gender issues involving my decision to become a lawyer.
One was work-life balance. I had heard about the crazy hours that lawyers had to work. I wasn't sure how I'd handle that and a family. By then I was pretty sure I did want to have kids. But I didn't view this as a gender issue. I assumed that in my household, all responsibilities would be shared equally. At the time, however, I didn't perceive this so much as a gender issue. Instead, I was worried only about how I'd hold up my end of the deal. My husband was already working crazy hours in his demanding career. He couldn't do 100% of the housework forever. And there would be more to do when we had children. I was concerned about the logistics. Even in law school I worried about that and was trying to figure out which career path would make the logistics easier to manage. (More on that later.)
The other thing that made my radar involved the paucity of women in positions of power. Although in 3 years of law school, I only had three courses taught by women, I did not think much about this imbalance. It was a shame there were only a few women on the faculty. But I had been raised in the post Title IX period when many of us glossed over such things because we figured real sexism was a thing of the past. I realized most of the profs were male, but I assumed this would change in time because there weren't any barriers anymore. I just did not perceive major structural impediments preventing that from that happening. Similarly, when I began to job hunt, I was surprised at the gender parity in the associate ranks while there was a dearth of women in the partner ranks at firms. But again, I assumed that in another 6-10 years, when my class was eligible for elevation to partner, things would even up.
Boy, was I wrong!
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