Are you a feminist?

I thought I’d skip the blog tonight. An ordinary day, no news. All I did mostly was work on taxes. Moved ahead a bit on the big redo—the contractor will take the plans to the city this week and the bank verbally approved the loan when I have an estimate. A tech came to fix the alarm system which has persistently insisted that the back door is open when it’s not. Turns out rats have chewed on the wires. Worst part: the wires are under the flat roof, so there’s no way to get to them. The alarm tech has it all solved and will be back to fix it. And that’s how my day went.

Except I’m intrigued about all the sudden buzz about feminism and Hillary’s campaign and Madeleine Albright and someone else telling women they must vote for Hillary. I am really sorry we’re still fighting this battle fifty or more years after Betty Freidan’s breakthrough book. And yet I know we are. Some people are upset because Albright or someone in her camp was described as “scolding” women. The cry was that men never scold—it’s a diminutive applied only to women. On the other hand, Hillary has been criticized for her shrill, harsh voice. How’s the poor girl to win anything?

I like Hillary and will probably vote for her, but I resent being told I have to vote for someone on the grounds of gender. Does that mean if I were Republican I’d have to vote for Fiorina (a horrifying thought in my mind)? I’d like to see a woman as president, especially one as capable and experienced as Hillary, but I still think it’s important to vote for the person best qualified to lead the country. Gender isn’t the great qualifier. And I don’t like that it’s raising such an ugly head in this election. I don't think being a feminist--and I probably am, means I have to vote for a woman.

If we as women want equality, we have to show ourselves as being as capable as men.  I think in many instances women have done that and more. And we’ve come a long way, baby, since the early days of my adulthood and professional life—I know I have. But being female doesn’t make me qualified to be president. Vote your conscience folks, gender aside.

I can’t resist a snarky comment here: one of the main problems I see with the Republican clown car is that they all tend to marginalize women. Not what I want in a leader either.

Why I'm not going to Canada

When I was about twenty, my parents were leaving on a road trip and my father said sternly, "Judy, if anything happens to us, you will take care of Jenny, won't you?" Of course I didn't want to think about something happening to my parents, so I blew off the Jenny part.
Jenny was my cousin in Toronto, about two years older, with some severe mental disorder--I was never sure what but some kind of bipolar syndrome I suspect. I last saw her 53 years ago, so saying we were not close is an understatement. She lived her life in and out of institutions. About ten years ago, my father's words echoed loud in my mind. Our aunt, who had watched over Jenny, was failing. I offered to take over care of her affairs and, with Jenny's consent, was given power of attorney. I've been paying bills, dealing with care facilities, watching her checkbook (I made sure she had no access because she gave huge sums she couldn't afford to animal welfare shelters). I made sure she was well cared for, had necessary medical attention, paid her bills and her taxes, and all that. And as best as I could, I saw that she was happy. I became good friends with the patient coordinator or whatever at the care center, and we corresponded frequently about Jenny. My cousin and I spoke only once, and with my bad hearing and her speech garbled from a stroke, it was a disaster. I sent her small gifts--stuffed animals--and pictures of my dogs. She would look with interest and two minutes later ask, "Who are they?" But sometimes she would dictate a note to be sent to me.
Jenny died May 13, and it became a big deal for me to go to Toronto to see her buried. My oldest son, Colin, would go with me, and we would see the lawyer, Senior Health Centre people (who were so good to Jenny and really loved her) and banker, in addition to having the service. But it turned out none of those people were available on the date we chose to go, the date I had the interment ceremony in her family cemetery all planned.
Last night I had an epiphany: I was about to spend $4,000 or thereabouts to go stand at the graveside of a woman I hadn't seen in 53 years and didn't really know. I had this vision of Colin and me in Toronto for two days saying, "Now what?" I cancelled our plans but have been frantically arranging for the interment to go on--cemetery will be ready, flowers will be there, minister on hand. The only person I haven't gotten is the funeral director who will bring the ashes--it's kind of crucial that he be there or it would be like throwing a party without the guest of honor. I think some staff from the Senior Health Centre will also attend.
This decision has been hard on me. I feel guilty letting her be buried without family there (she has no other relatives and no friends) but I have come to the conclusion that I can say, with a clear conscience, "Yes, Dad, I took care of Jenny." And that's enough.