Transcending a Feminine Mystique

I've been wrong before. But I thought for many years that at least I had my gender down pat. Then I learned from Ann Landers that I have a male name. "Marian," she declared, is the feminine spelling, and "Marion" the masculine.

No, I'm not a secret transvestite. I was named after my grandmother--who was named after F. Marion Crawford, her sisters' favorite (male) author. To be honest, though, it's not really an issue. Despite trusty Ann and my name's origin, the fact is that in 1993, "Marion" of whatever spelling nearly always denotes a woman.

But in some ways, my name reflects my life. I never really thought about the "gender" of my name until I was confronted with the matter. Similarly, I never really thought about what it means to be a woman as relating to the roles I play in life--student, journalist, friend--until just recently.

I know what you're thinking. "What kind of idiot is she, anyway?" Let me clarify a bit. I went to an all-girls school from seventh through 12th grade. My school was free from any biases about how girls study, learn or think--although we were expected to do as much of all three as possible. My classmates and I once told our math teacher that she shouldn't push us so hard in calculus--after all, math is a "male" subject. She laughed and told us that we had to do our homework anyway.

And while my parents dressed me up in my share of embroidered dresses and hair bows, they never set any limits on me because of my gender. They wanted me to live up to my potential and to be happy, whether it was reading incessantly or going to Harvard.

Yes, I played with dolls. I learned ballroom dancing. I listened to teachers say, "Now, girls..." thousands of times. But I never really felt having XX or XY chromosomes gave me a disadvantage or an advantage in life.

All things must end, though. I arrived at Harvard in the fall of 1991, set up house in an entryway with several men and enrolled in classes that were all coed. Like most first-years, I was confused and clueless.

A (male) friend recently told me that one of the things he noticed about me during my first year was that, unlike all the other Harvard women he knew, I never mentioned how hard it was to be a woman here, or how I was at a disadvantage thanks to my gender.

That's not because of any complex philosophy on gender roles. It's that I just didn't think about these things for a while. I had been taught to speak my mind and argue persuasively, and when I left Memphis for Cambridge, I automatically fell into that behavior.

And, to be honest, I thought the claims I heard of discrimination--at Harvard and elsewhere--were overblown. After all, this was the 90s, right? Institutional inequality at Harvard was long since over. Societal limits on what women could do had long since broken down. Hell, the president and the business manager of the supposedly "male-dominated" Crimson were both women. What was up?

Now, more than two years later, my outlook has changed. I've been in too many sections where men shout out their answers and women hang back. I've talked to too many friends who were "token women" in high school activities, or who were discouraged from taking math and science. I've been told to "calm down" too many times when I've raised my voice slightly in justified anger or concern.

Am I taken less seriously at times because I'm a woman? Yes. Does it irritate me? Yes. And the worst part is that my behavior has started to be affected by it. It's harder now for me to speak up in sections. I get more nervous when I have to speak before a crowd.

I've also become more aware of the differences between the sexes in terms of outlook, reaction and decision-making. I have said to men, "You just don't understand," and meant it.

I've learned to be wary, though, of those who would put me into a box because of my gender, whether they're male or female. I don't accept logic and reason as "masculine" values--I rely on them. I don't believe that there is a "male" or "female" style of leadership. A good leader combines strength and authority with sensitivity and understanding, whatever his or her gender may be.

I've heard the argument that men and women inhabit completely different spheres, and that what society values is what men value--tangible achievement, ordered justice, individual attainment.

Sorry. I value those things too, and I'm no less a woman for it. I also value collaboration, emotional honesty and caring. But those aren't "female" values, and they shouldn't be defined as such. Any well-rounded human needs to recognize their importance.

And this is what bothers me in all the talk about "female" morality, "female" learning, "female" leadership. I'm not prepared to give up certain values and ways of doing things simply because of my gender. I don't like it when Phyllis Schafly calls for this, and I don't like it when Harvard Ed School Professor Carol Gilligan calls for it either. Societal prejudices and assumptions do exist, but I refuse to buckle under to them.

It's odd--somehow, without meaning to, I keep doing what some consider "male" activities. I'm a government concentrator. I did Model UN in high school. I've done speech and debate since I was 15. I'm a journalist and hope to be one for life.

I'm hardly the only female debater, or the only female Gov concentrator. And I'm certainly not the only woman on The Crimson. (Hey, if I hadn't added that, my female editors would have). I'm not breaking any ground. And I don't do any of these activities to prove a point--I do them because I enjoy them, plain and simple.

But I am choosing to take part in activities that necessitate qualities generally associated more with men than with women. Aggression, toughness, argumentativeness--all of these are more closely identified with men than they are with women.

What's the secret? Women are just as capable of those qualities as men, although they are often discouraged. And diplomacy, which is something society associates with women, is necessary in all these areas too. A good journalist knows how to schmooze as well as how to dig.

I'm never sure whether it helps or hurts overall that I don't seem aggressive, tough or argumentative at first glance. Many people, including some who have known me for years, consider me a sweet little Southern girl with a nice manner and cheerful smile. (Add the difference in regional perception, and the problem is compounded.) They don't see the steel in my soul.

Trust me, it's there. Just ask my roommates, or my high school history teacher, or anyone I've ever had a serious argument with. I just prefer to be subtle about it.

I'm definitely not sorry to have gained an awareness of societal views of women and of the difficulties women can face at Harvard. But the key thing is to not let the awareness cripple me. Just because one studies a myth long enough to know it well is no reason to believe it.

Iwas thinking about my name just the other day, as a matter of fact. Someone had spelled it "Marian" and I corrected them, throwing in the detail that technically, it's the "male" spelling.

I'm still trying to figure out exactly what that means, just like I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it means to be a woman at Harvard and in the world today. I don't think there's a single answer for me, and there's certainly not a single answer out there for the wide variety of women attending the University.

The important thing is to keep asking the question.