Tag Archives: women

FILING DAY…more to come

I am finally setting up a filing system for the hundreds of poem I have written over the last 25 years. This poem still rings true. So, I am sharing it with you.

I AM THAT EVE 10-27-1999

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I am that Eve

who stood before that tree

and beheld the face of God

eye-to-eye,

as an equal.

I am that Eve

who chose to leave her father’s garden

for one of her own making,

God’s co-creator

of the garden of earthly delights.

I am that Eve

both Magdalen and Madonna

in reflection of God’s love,

an earthly and eternal

gift to man.

I am that Eve

who waits in stillness

and fruitfulness of Spirit

who would crush the head

of those who hiss their judgement of others.

I am that Eve

who takes the hand of man

and leads him from ignorance and lies

to self-knowledge, and places him

in the hands of God.

I am that Eve

who touches the roots

and taste the fruits

of ancient wisdom

and God’s own heart.

I am that Eve.

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WOMAN’S WORK

My work life started with equality of effort and pay. Five year old brotherAngelo told me I could not help if I could not keep up. I kept up. We shared pulling our wagon through the alley near our house, rummaging through trash to pull our newspapers, cans, bottles and magazines. He pulled as I pushed the loaded wagon onto the scale at the junkyard across the street and down another alley. We checked each other’s math as Mr. Schonberger paid us pennies according to the weight of our load. We each received the same amount.

Angelo was able to secure a job as paperboy for the Newark Advocate. I tried but was told girls could not be paperboys. My brother allowed me to help him, as I always had, offering to split the pay with me. He hated going door-to-door to collect subscription fees. I was pretty successful at it. After awhile he became bored and started allowing me to deliver the paper as well. I was thrilled to finally be a papergirl, full stop! Except, Angelo retained his half of the salary on the premise I could earn nothing on my own so I still came out ahead. From that day on, I angrily experienced pay inequity. It takes many forms, is institutionalized and challenges to it are always risky. One can end up jobless, very easily. My own brother taught me those lessons when I was 8 years old.

After graduate school I became a Resident Counselor at a co-ed high rise residence hall at the University of Cincinnati. I soon discovered that I was paid less than the other three RCs assigned to our building. The other woman was entitled to her salary since she was considered the Head RC. But, the two men had fewer degrees than I and had less experience. Since we were a state university those were clearly defined bases for assessing wages. In my case those considerations were ignored. The second year in this position saw the Head counselor leave on maternity leave, one of the men transferred to the Athletic Dept. and the other man took a position as Head RC. These positional shifts left me to do the job 4 persons had been doing, with no increase in pay. I left after that year to attend law school, determined to learn what I needed to make the world a more just and fair place for everyone.

I will not go into the racism and sexism In law school, nor in my workplaces over the years. That discussion is for another day. Today is about pay equity. My first legal job was at The Legal Aid Society of Columbus. Pay equity was not an issue in this job. However, the salary there meant I was barely able to repay my school loans. I could not buy a car, could barley pay rent, and was unable to help out my parents or save any money for emergencies. I later secured a position at Ohio University where I could use both my legal training and experience, and my Student Affairs training and experience. I was confident the pay schedules would afford some protection.

I was wrong. After studying the issue of my pay versus the scale I realized had been placed three grades lower than the man who had preceeded me, who also had fewer degrees and less experience. He also did not have all the duties I had, and carried a much smaller case load as well. After a year-long study measuring my position against the pay scale at my university, the pay for similar position at other state schools in Ohio and state schools nationally I concluded I was grossly underpaid. Instead of filing a pay equity claim based on discrimination, I filed for a review of my position to bring it into compliance with the pay scale. I knew if I claimed sexual discrimination I would not have my contract renewed. I loved my job. I loved the work I did. I did not want to lose the position.

I never mentioned sex discrimination in my research report, my application for review, or any cover letters. I tread lightly. The wrangling went on for nearly 2 years while I patiently, if stressfully, sought pay equity. Finally, the Provost asked to speak to me. Such a meeting should have been unnecessary since the pay scale criteria were set and I met the criteria for a move up three grades and across the grade significantly. I had been underpaid from day one, but could only claim an amount due from the date of application for review, losing thousands of dollars in unmet equity. I was willing to forego those losses in order to retain my position. But, wanted fair and equal pay recognized and offered.

The first 5 minutes of the conversation with the Provost explained why he was meeting with me as he started to discuss sexual discrimination. I stopped him, reminding him I had not made my claim one for sexual discrimination which would have created a terrible image for the university, which I had pledged to serve. The university would be harmed if such a claim were made by its own legal counsel. He was caught off guard and stumbled in his speech. What do you want? I want what I have claimed. That started a negotiation. I did not get the back pay I asked for from day one’s misplacement on the scale. I did get the upgrade and back salary of two yers from the date I filed a job review request based on updated information. It was clear I would need to file suit to get full equity. I could not sue the institution I loved and hoped to continue working for. It was a bittersweet victory of sorts.

What I experienced at the university was not new to me, as such inequities existed in nearly every job I have held. Nor are such experiences limited to me. Every woman faces such discrimination. It is baked in to systems and those who create and manage them. It will not easily be removed. It impossible to attain equity but the costs are often too high for mere mortals to bear. A Vice-President for the university called me in soon after I was granted proper pay for my work. He told me the conversation we were about to have never happened should I repeat it to anyone. I will only say that he told me he had never seen such discrimination against any woman, and he had seen a lot in his career in private and public sector, as he saw in my case. He advised I remove myself from the position as the discrimination would not stop until I had been destroyed. He offered me a position under his area. It is hard to trust any man who starts the conversation, “This conversation never happened.” I did not acccept the position he offered.

I wonder, sometimes, if I could have avoided chronic fatigue syndrome which left me bedridden for a year, unable to speak or walk…or even sit-up or crawl. I relearned language. Learned to walk with a walker, then with a cane. I asked to do what many men had done following strokes or heart attacks, be in the office in the morning and work from home in the afternoon, I reasoned my hearings were usually scheduled in the morning. I could schedule meetings then as well; and, write briefs, make phone calls and do legal research in the afternoons. I was told I was not to return to work unless I could be in the office full-time. No man had ever been told this. I was in position to know. And this, from a boss who never came in to the office before 11 then left for a three hour lunch.

Women are marching across the globe for pay equity. I walk with them in spirit. I add my voice to theirs. This is the only way my health allows me to do so. Listen to those women. Hear their pleas. Help them. And do it “on the record”; not as if this conversation never happened.

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HOMELESS WOMEN

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untitled women 

work the fields

ply the streets

rock the cradles

cry and weep

unnamed tears

forgotten smiles

un-styled hair

weary feet

arms akimbo

grace denied

homeless

but not heartless,

mores the pity,

where none resides

beside the curb

where hope dies

as titled women

simply pass by

and by

and by

and by

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PUTIN REPUBLICANS

If Republicans take control of the House.

McCarthy promises Putin wins.

Not just in Ukraine,

to whom McCarthy says he will refuse aid

which we now give to fight off blood and bone Russians

using real Iranian drones and North Korean missiles.

Worse or not, McCarthy also refuses

to fight Russians within,

hidden behind the faces of Republicans

who spout Russian lies

while taking Russian cash

to increase adds to propagandize

and fill their pockets.

“Oh! What tangled web we weave

when first we practice to deceive.”

A refrain that never ends;

not with Trump, nor Guiliani, nor Rubio,

nor Lindsey, nor Dewine, nor La Rose, nor Yost,

nor so many others, too numerous to list

who would sell their souls 

for a dollar or a ruble…

or simply….re-election.

Such a defection to the other side

is not partisan politics.

That died long ago.

The defection is to Russia

and autocrats who control

all the wealth and power

they can lay hands on,

as if blessed by the hands of Christian nationalists

such as Flynn, and preachers like him,

who protests women’s control in privacy

which expands to every human right

which threatens us with autocrats’ control.

Go vote, for Putin. Vote Republican!

And soon, you will need to hide

not just your money and your pride

but your women and your children;

you know, those you think you own.

You don’t and never have.

They are not yours to give away.

But, they are yours to protect.

But, it seems I forget

you stopped that long ago.

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WOMEN

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Women are a sisterhood of might,

warriors with truth in sight

who love with lust and passion

and in ecstasy’s delight.

Women are the robins of the nests,

nurturers warming all within their light

who love with care and comfort

and in blossoming insight.

Women are the lions in dark night,

protectors with fierce might

who love with strength and power

and guarantee our rights.

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THE WORLD IS COUNTING ON YOU

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I asked the question on my mind

to Mom and Dad long ago.

How did you not know

the Germans were rounding up Jews,

and Gypsies and dissidents who cared

that their nation was being overtaken

by Nazis who sowed despair

in Poland, Austria and France?

How could America divert her glance

from war looming on the horizon?

I did not understand then.

I do not understand now

why until Pearl Harbor 

Americans shrugged a brow.

Not Dad, he enlisted long before Pearl.

He saw that war knocked on our door

as he escorted ships full 

of lend-lease goods to Britain’s shores.

Like Ukrainians, we hoped Britains

could forestall a world-wide war

that Americans must fight.

Out of mind, out of sight

seems to be not only a universal dodge

but an eternal one as well,

lasting across generations 

with shallow memories.

As then, now, we have fascists here at home

with white supremacy guiding their views

and politicians pleading their cause

as the nation’s own, ignoring American principles

of freedom and equality

as they burn books and block votes

and bind women to their side

that they may attack children

and threaten life with weapons

of war in schools, churches, synagogues 

and even grocery stores.

Are such threats truly unseen?

Are such threats overcome by entertainment T.V.?

Americans know the score

on Dancing with the Stars and Housewives

from too many cities to keep count.

And, yet, have no time to explore

candidates and policies before they vote,

if they do vote with raised brows 

at a ballots’ surprise of choices to be made.

So, they stay away, and let war descend

without raising a hue or cry.

Soon to be come a nation occupied

by foreign notions from foreign nations

who did not even need to raise a gun

to destroy democracy for every American.

It need not be this way.

Get to work and learn the truth.

for once, put aside your play.

Then go vote on election day.

It is the least, the very least

you can do.

The world is counting on you.

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ANGELA’S CHILD

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How can time get away

when it stands still so much of the day,

encased in memories of yesterdays?

I know I should be doing more

but what more seems 

too tentative to explore.

Batteries charge in the sun as do I,

walking block after block

avoiding clouds’ shadows

avoiding stepping on cracks

lest I break my mother’s back.

I often wonder if she knows

I still follow her path

and watch her back

to find my way;

and, if she 

still watches me.

If so, I know, she is the wind

pushing me along

and keeping me strong.

The wind washes clear

the fog of discontent

and lackadaisical malaise

that seems to come 

with greater age.

I am my mother’s child

wily, wise and wild

still able to get up

off the couch 

and run, and run, and run.

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WOMAN STRONG

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Women fret and stew because they feel

with blood and sinew, hands and heels.

Each breath they take is a timeless hold

on the history of family and friends so bold

it carries all aloft to a future filled with bliss.

The nesting instinct is nothing less

than continuation of species and best

embraced and supported as what it is;

our best hope for survival in peace,

in world fractured by power and greed.

Women seize their freedom in both hands.

Women march and take stands against tyranny.

Women need never ask for self-rule of their bodies.

They already hold their own agency.

Only blind men fail to see

powerful women could set them free.

WE ARE THE WORLD

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While children here sing

“Rain, rain go away.

“Come again another day.”

China seeds the clouds above

and firefighters ask for aid

to battle flames that spread so wide

there is no place for lungs to hide.

Fragile systems bend and break

as I lie in my bed alert, awake

to all the trauma in the world;

clutching hands which hold out hope

to help heal damage beyond their scope.

All that seems real are nerves afray

and hands held in prayer for better days.

For days when birds again find their way

among the butterflies and bees.

When war engines fall into disrepair

and children frolic and play free

of worries that hide 

in thoughts of suicide.

We are the world. The world is us.

the world hangs in the balance

of hands held in trust.

Reach out your hands enjoined to others.

Earth’s survival truly depends on us.

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THINNING OUT LIFE

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My hair is so thin

and so fine,

so unstructured

by aging design.

A blanket woven 

from my hair

could not warm

a body cold

from aging blood

flowing so slow.

All of a piece

are these changes

noted and coded

to bring the message

that life is also this:

so fine and 

unstructured

except in my mind.

I brush my hair and

watch it fall

loosened from its frame

like my muscle and bone.

The stories it tells

as it catches the light

separating so many colors

into memory’s delight.

If this be aging

I welcome it close.

Aging brings wisdom

to bear each loss

before the final

loss comes and I

am finally bald.

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PASSIONATE WOMEN

“Enjoy it, while you can!”

never makes sense

to young ones whose only goal

is to get old enough to let life unfold

on their own.

Until, they are old enough to love.

Then, as the old ladies foretold,

“Enjoy it, while you can!”

I see those women still.

Still young.Still passion filled.

Still yearning for more, and amore.

They gathered for morning coffee

on the screened-in porch.

Pulling me within

by their passion, a torch

to light my way

to womanhood, day by day.

They were all related

by marriage and by blood,

or paesans from villages abroad.

They formed a sisterhood

from marriage to widowhood.

They aged, yet, their passions still raged

at husbands whose passions had been spent

on youthful challenges and endeavors

they embraced as leavers

to lift their families higher

than an immigrant could aspire.

Worn out before their time.

Passions worn too thin

to please their wives.

“Enjoy it, while you can!”

Ah! Now, I am finally

old enough to understand.

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