Women’s History Month arrives one year into the pandemic — at a moment when female workforce participation has dipped to 57 percent, the lowest it has been in more than three decades…
— from the Washington Post, March 25, 2021
I suppose, 50 years from now, historians will look back on 2020-2021 as a significant time on the the History of Women, when female workforce participation dipped to 57 percent, and say, “What the hell happened?”
But taking the long view, we could just as easily look at the past 50 years — if we were historians — and say, “What the hell happened?”
50 years ago, women looked like this:
What the hell happened? Not even the historians can answer that question.
Politicians and journalist tend to look at the events of last Tuesday, and think of that as “history”. (I say that with the utmost respect. Some of my best friends are politicians and journalists.) Especially, they often have the impression that ‘Women’s History Month’ ought to be celebrating how far women have come, in becoming equal to men. (Ha! Good luck with that one, ladies!)
Historians tend to take a much longer view. But it’s equally wrong.
I don’t really want to single out historians for ridicule, but… since we are celebrating Women’s History Month, I really want to single out historians for ridicule. Because ‘Women’s History Month’ isn’t actually about ‘Women’. It’s about ‘Historians’, and about injecting something halfway meaningful into their pitiful lives.
Being an historian is not an easy row to hoe. For one thing, you have limited job opportunities. If you showed up at a construction site, for example, looking for a job… and the arrogant construction foreman asks you, somewhat dismissively, “So, what experience do you have?” and you say, “I wrote a graduate thesis on the Peasant’s Revolt of 1381″… well, I guess we all know what the foreman’s response would be.
So historians have to come up with projects that make them feel worthy. (In place of feeling masculine, for instance.) One great way to feel important is to write about people who are dead, because you — being still alive — have at least one competitive advantage over them.
Another way to make yourself feel important is to write about people who are even less masculine than yourself. Like: women.
You can then write about the various ways women are disadvantaged, historically. They have a lower participation in the workforce than men. They are paid less than men, for the same job. They have relatively poor representation at the highest levels of government and corporate management. They have to pay up to 48% more for a bottle of ‘women’s shampoo’ than men pay for an identical product labeled for men.
A perceptive historian would note that women have a month of the year — the month of March — designated as “Women’s History Month”… while men have the other 11 months.
Perhaps most importantly, women are never satisfied. (I can say that, and find considerable satisfaction just saying it.)
Historians can find satisfaction in such differences. (Without necessarily feeling self-satisfied.) The facts suggest that a typical woman would also have been rejected by that same arrogant construction foreman.
But being fair-minded, historians will also note the progress that women have made since 2000 BC, when a woman was virtually a slave of her husband. Most women today have cell phones capable of sending and receiving text messages, which gives them a credible excuse for not hearing anything their husband is saying.
The biggest changes, however, took place when women began to graduate from colleges with degrees in history, and history books began to acknowledge that women existed. Little by little, well-loved women like Betsy Ross and Dolley Madison appeared in US History books… to be followed, eventually, by women who were much less appreciated and who had stirred up trouble, like Susan B. Anthony, Rosa Parks, Monica Lewinsky and Lady Gaga.
In closing, I want to apologize for not noticing that it was Women’s History Month until March 26, at which time the month was almost over. I actually admire women — from a safe distance — and I will be the first to acknowledge that if it wasn’t for a woman (my mother) I wouldn’t even be here today. Not sure if that fact has any historical significance. Probably not.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.