My father is a quiet man. By today’s standards he would be labeled an introvert. His quiet way belied his wisdom, however. If I wanted someone to reflect my passion or validate my actions, I went to Mom. If I wanted thoughtful, measured advice, I went to Dad.
Women’s liberation started in my childhood. By the time I was a teenager, it was churning full force. I listened, explored ideas with friends and tried to find a balance between my own stay-at-home-mom-traditional-family, and the ideas of breaking out from under the oppression of men and demanding equality that swirled around me in society. As I job hunted after graduation, it felt like an opportunity to join the cause and make my own personal statement. All kinds of fields were opening up. Anything seemed possible, and yet I found the sheer volume of choices more paralyzing than empowering.
Since my father worked for the State Highway Department, I started there. One job in particular intrigued me — a flagman — the person (typically a male) that controlled traffic flow during road repairs. Here I could take a stand and contribute in some way to the women’s movement by being a flagwoman in a predominantly male job. It didn’t hurt that they made good money and were in demand. With harsh winters, salt and snow plows chewing up the roads, summer was best known as the road repair season.
I tried this idea on anyone who would listen. Some thought it too radical. Others just said I was crazy which only entrenched me further in my righteous cause. But a niggling voice in my head said maybe I wouldn’t be able to do it. I vacillated, unsure of what to do. One evening, I interrupted my father’s reading of the newspaper.
“Hey Dad, I want to be one of those flagmen that hold the stop and go sign when they’re repairing the roads.”
“MmHmmm.”
“Do they make good money?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I could do it?”
“Sure.”
This is not what I was expecting.”What do you think about it?”
“Well,” he said, “you start early in the morning. It’s hot in the sun. It’s a lot of standing. I imagine it can get boring.”
“Could you help me get a job?”
“Sure.”
“OK. Let me think about it.”
“You might also consider driving one of the trucks that haul rock or dirt”, he added.
“Really?”
“Why not? You can do it. You just need to decide if you want to.”
This was new. My father wasn’t shocked or surprised or disapproving. I would come to learn that he thought I could do anything I put my mind to.
So I thought about it…. It did look hot…. And it did look deadly dull and boring…. It wasn’t something I truly wanted to do. I opted to not make my statement standing in the sun.
The Women’s Movement taught me to examine and sometimes question traditional roles. But my father taught me an even greater lesson — to think for myself. He believed I was capable. I felt empowered. All from a person of the gender that was being characterized at the time, as an impediment to true freedom and self. Thanks, Dad.
Love it! My dad was similar in that he thought I could do anything I put my mind to but he also taught me the value of thinking for myself. What was most important to me and what did God want me to be became the most important questions to me. I came to this through example as those were also the most important questions my dad based his life on. Thanks Teresa for another great post.