Get Thee Behind Us, Woman!

This one's for you, Gram.

When I was a little girl, I got to sit at my first real desk, stamping and sealing envelopes. I was proudly introduced to all who passed, and I was even more proud to claim the tall, red-haired business woman beside me as my gram.

Her name was Opal Else Free Kotson. She was an executive at Montgomery Ward. She worked her way up from the bottom with acumen, tenacity and smarts. She did it all on an eighth grade education and sheer determination. Because you see, even with all those names after her given name, she lived a single life caring for two children without help. If she couldn't cut it, they didn't eat.

It wasn't until I was in my twenties and she'd retired that I learned the cold, hard facts about her career. She had made it to the top echelon of management in Montgomery Ward. There were three positions higher than hers. I asked why she hadn't tried for those.

She had.

That was when she was told there would be no further movement in her career. Women were not allowed in the top three management slots.

I remember looking aghast at my gram. And I remember to a tee what I felt...ineffable sorrow that this vital, intelligent woman had spent so many years of her life gazing through that glass ceiling while giving that company every iota of her effort and allegiance...and heartfelt relief that society was past that horrible hurdle—it wasn't going to cripple me, nor any daughters I would have.

Well, I did have a daughter, and when she was eight months old, my gram had just about finished her walk through this world. I raced home with my son and my daughter from where we were living in Germany, but to no avail. She departed our grasp while we were somewhere over the North Atlantic.

So my daughter never got to know her great-gram, though I'd like to think she carries a bit of Opal Else's spirit within her. But certainly, my daughter would travel an equal road with her male counterparts, thanks to the painful trails my gram, and so many like her, blazed.

Au contraire.

Just like my gram, women have reached the plateau of top management in politics. And just like her, so woefully many decades ago, women are being told, unequivocally, that's quite far enough...

'Uh, uh, uh! Not so fast! You can hang with us up here, but don't be thinking you get to be our boss. No way, no how, not gonna happen. And if you persist in your efforts to run the show, we'll send you packing. And it ain't gonna be pretty. So be nice, back off, and

...get thee behind us, woman.'