Reproductive justice activists mobilize in Atlanta, March 12, 2012. (AP Photo/David Goldman)
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In 1968, the Phillip Morris Company launched a memorable campaign to sell Virginia Slims, a new brand of cigarettes targeting women, itself a new phenomenon. It had a brand-new slogan: “You’ve come a long way, baby.” The company plastered it on billboards nationwide and put it in TV ads that featured women of the early twentieth century being punished for smoking. In all their advertising, smoking was equated with a set of traits meant to capture the essence of women in a new era of equality—independence, slimness, glamour and liberation.
As it happened, the only equality this campaign ended up supporting involved lung cancer. Today, women and men die at similar rates from that disease.
Still, women have come a long way since the mid-twentieth century, and it’s worth considering just how far—and just how far we have to go.
Once Upon a Time
These days it may be hard for some to believe, but before the women’s movement burst on the scene in the late 1960s, newspapers published ads for jobs on different pages, segregated by gender. Employers legally paid women less than men for the same work. Some bars refused to serve women and all banks denied married women credit or loans, a practice which didn’t change until 1974. Some states even excluded women from jury duty.
Radio producers considered women’s voices too abrasive to be on the air and television executives believed that women didn’t have sufficient credibility to anchor the news. Few women ran big corporations or universities, or worked as firefighters and police officers. None sat on the Supreme Court, installed electrical equipment, climbed telephone poles or owned construction companies. All hurricanes had female names, due to the widely held view that women brought chaos and destruction to society.
As late as 1970, Dr. Edgar Berman, a consultant to presidents and to Medicare, proclaimed on television that women were too tortured by hormonal disturbances to assume the presidency. Few people ran into women professors, doctors or lawyers. Everyone addressed a woman as either Miss or Mrs., depending on her marital status, and if a woman needed an abortion, legal nowhere in America, she risked her life searching among quacks in back alleys for a competent and compassionate doctor.
The public generally believed that rape victims had probably “asked for it,” most women felt too ashamed to report rape and no language existed to make sense of what we now call domestic violence, sexual harassment, marital rape or date rape. One simple phrase seemed to sum up the hidden injuries women suffered in silence: “That’s life.”
On August 27, 1970, in response to such injustice, 50,000 women marched down New York’s Fifth Avenue, announcing the birth of a new movement. They demanded three rights: legal abortion, universal childcare and equal pay. These were preconditions for women’s equality with men at home and in the workplace. Astonishingly, they didn’t include the ending of violence against women among their demands—though the experience and fear of male violence was widespread—because women still suffered these crimes in silence.
Those three demands, and the fourth one that couldn’t yet be articulated, have yet to be met.
The Hidden Injuries of Sex
As the women’s movement grew, women activists did, however, begin to “name” their grievances. Once named, they could be identified, debated, and—with a growing feminist political voice—turned into policy or used to change the law.