You've Come a Long Way, Baby!

A look back at the struggle by American women for their civil rights

Note: I published this essay in early October of 2016. Hillary Clinton was the Democratic Party standard bearer for the U.S. Presidency, running against the Republican candidate Donald Trump. She had the distinction of being the first woman to run for that high office as a major party nominee and seemed poised to win. As we know, this scenario did not happen. Four years later, Kamala Harris became the first woman elected as a vice president, although both major parties had previously fielded candidates for this office. Now, with President Joe Biden having withdrawn earlier in the campaign and Harris subsequently securing her party’s nomination, Harris is neck-and-neck with Trump in the seven battleground swing states (including Michigan) that will decide in some form or other the Electoral-College outcome. As we also know, the winner of the popular vote does not necessarily become President.

The essay was actually longer, having a personal component involving my late mother that tied in with the overall theme, but I thought the first part—detailing the history of the Women’s Suffrage Movement and the struggle by American women for their civil rights—relevant to this current moment with Election Day nearly here.

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]    In 1968, the Phillip Morris Company introduced Virginia Slims, a cigarette aimed at young, professional women. The idea was that female smokers would embrace the idea of having their own brand. A Virginia Slim cigarette—being thinner and slightly longer—was supposedly more eloquent looking when held in a lady’s hand. It also produced less smoke. These attributes, the company felt, that would make it more appealing to the fairer sex.

   Other than height and width, there was little to distinguish this brand from the other cigarettes. But that’s true of a lot of products. To encourage consumers to purchase your product rather than a competitor’s offering requires marketing and advertising. To that end, the promoters of Virginia Slims used the slogan: “You’ve come a long way, baby.”

  Well, I can say it was a pretty good one. It stuck in people’s mind—or least mine. It implied, correctly I’d say, that women in the late ‘60s had come a long way in being their own person, having jobs, being independent, and having a voice in matters.

   But that said, longstanding cultural, social and economic obstacles remained in place back then that still prevented many women from being on par with men, not to mention their being the victims of unfair treatment, put downs, and pressures on them to conform to an acceptable role model.

     So here we are in the year 2016. The status of women in our society and the opportunities available to them has come even further since the Virginia Slims’ motto was coined, although those longstanding obstacles, while not as daunting as they once were, still exist to some degree.

  The nation even has its first woman nominated by a major political party for the office of President—a milestone that was a long time coming.

   Yet the possibility, the very idea of a woman being elected to this position, has its detractors—their objections based not so much on her beliefs or qualifications (all fair game for political criticism) but more so on her gender. A woman, any woman in their estimation, is not up to the task.

    IN ORDER TO JUDGE PROGRESS, OR THE LACK THEREOF, IT HELPS TO GO BACK TO THE origins and then measure the distance. So, where and how did women’s rights become a matter of public discourse in America? 

     History offers a lot of possibilities, a lot of threads that can be followed backward, but events occurring in the 1840s would have to be included. During that time frame, a number of women in America—many of them involved in the Abolition Movement and other reform efforts and having a religious fervor—sought to exert more control over their lives. They chaffed at the fact that in the eyes of the law and through the pressure of the existing cultural norms a woman was under the control of their father or husband with few rights of their own. Any active participation outside the family or the church was frowned upon, and even with the latter institution, their involvement had its limitations. For instance, women speaking against slavery in public to a mixed audience of men and women were criticized by otherwise sympathetic ministers “for stepping outside their proper place.”

   State statutes and common law during that era prohibited women from inheriting property, signing contracts, serving on juries, and voting in elections. Women's prospects in employment were also limited. The occupations that were open to a female worker were mostly service-related jobs, and even then women who held these positions received less compensation than men doing the same work.

    One of the landmark occurrences that began to change this situation—as we know in retrospect—was the meeting of Lucretia Mott and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. These two women (both of them abolitionists) were introduced to each other at the 1840 World Anti-Slavery Convention in London. Besides being against slavery, they soon found another common cause. It seems that while the men who organized this event were involved in the noble work of ending human bondage, these two women and other ladies in attendance were barred from the convention floor.

    The friendship that evolved from this meeting, and their shared indignation at this and other acts of discrimination, would eventually lead to their holding a convention in a chapel in Seneca Falls, New York eight years later on the matter of women’s rights. The two-day affair took place on July 19-20, 1848 and drew around 100 people, with two-thirds of them being women. The sole African-American in attendance, a man, was the famous Frederick Douglass.

   The organizers advertised it as a gathering “to discuss the social, civil, and religious condition and rights of woman.” A Declaration of Sentiments, Grievances, and Resolutions, written by Stanton, was presented to the convention for consideration and debate. The preamble mirrored the opening paragraphs of the Declaration of Independence—only two words were added to the document’s most famous statement. Instead of saying that “all men are created equal,” Stanton wrote “all men and women are created equal.”

  Most of the grievances and resolutions addressed the various social and institutional barriers then in existence, among them the lack of educational opportunities, the “monopoly of the pulpit” by men, and a lack of access to the professions and trades and other economic opportunities.

    Interestingly, the only resolution that resulted in much dissent was the one advocating that women should have the right to vote, and by extension have a voice in the formation of laws and public policy. A number of the attendees felt that including this contentious political proposal would hurt the chances of gaining support for the other resolutions.  Those other (supposedly less volatile) propositions, they argued, would have a better chance of gaining acceptance and support from the general public if the matter of suffrage was left out.

    It was Douglass, in what was described as an eloquent speech, who counseled the delegates that they should include the right to vote in their list; that doing otherwise was accepting their disenfranchisement and that the world would be a better place if women were involved in the political sphere.

  Having passed these resolutions, the organizers then sought to publicize them and seek their enactment. They obviously did so with their eyes wide open. The closing paragraph stated: “In entering upon the great work before us, we anticipate no small amount of misconception, misrepresentation, and ridicule; but we shall use every instrumentality within our power to affect our object. We shall employ agents, circulate tracts, petition the State and national Legislatures, and endeavor to enlist the pulpit and the press in our behalf. We hope this Convention will be followed by a series of Conventions, embracing every part of the country.”

   The immediate reaction was both favorable and, as they anticipated, derogatory. These conventions did, as hoped for, become annual affairs up until the Civil War and within a few years the ‘right to vote’ became a central tenet of the women’s movement.

   As we know, Women’s Suffrage turned into a protracted struggle. Leaders saw an opportunity at the end of the Civil War as Congress considered the 14^th and 15^th Amendments that extended citizenship and voting rights to the freed slaves. Those lobbying efforts to include women in the provisions, however, were unsuccessful.

   There was progress in the latter part of the 19^th century and the early years of the 20^th century as several states—most of them in the West—granted this franchise. But it was not until 1920, seventy-two years after the meeting at Seneca Falls, that the 19^th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was passed and women could now vote—and by extension could hold elective office. Of the women at the 1848 Convention who signed the document, only one was still alive at that late date. Unfortunately, she was not well enough to exercise this long denied right.

    Many of the other grievances outlined at this first gathering also proved to be difficult challenges to overcome. Even when laws were passed giving women more rights and even as social norms became more inclusive, attitudes have persisted that support subtler forms of discrimination—the double standards that have existed when it came to jobs, wages, education, economic opportunities, career advancement, physical looks, and behavior.

   The belief that women “should know their place” or be “submissive to their husbands” has its adherents. Even now we hear that a woman might not have “the brains, the stamina, or the proper look” to be president.

    True, we are not all alike, but we all have the right to participate, to take our chances, and to pursue our dreams. Whatever limitations exist, they ought to be those of talent, ambition, and personal choice—not restrictions erected by those harboring a prejudice; obstacles maintained by those whose only intent is to prevent, thwart, and exploit.

    “You’ve come a long way, baby.” That’s true for women, but also for many of us men. Yet, while a good measure of progress has occurred, there’s still a distance left to travel. Together, we can get there.

Steve Horton is a mid-Michigan journalist and commentator.

Email: hortonnotebook@gmail.com