Because She's A Woman

 There are very few people on earth  I can talk freely at a truth to the gut level with.  My sister is my most valuable and oldest association that way.  Tonight we were both trying to pour whatever energy we could into a Millsaps event, and we started talking about a position that was opening up at a company we've both been associated with for a long, long time.  

"I guess they're gonna move Mary into that position,"  I said.  Naming the most logical, most competent person I could think of, who just happens to already be working at that company.  I really didn't put much thought into it and considered that part of the conversation pretty much done.

"They'll never give Mary that position."  My sister said.  "Because She's a Woman."

I made a face and let my brain process what she had just said.  The weight of it and the truth of it hit me pretty hard.  This woman, who we both knew, who we both had done business with, would be denied an opportunity she earned in life--because she's a woman.

Once upon a time, I took an oath to defend womanhood, but I've always interpreted that differently from how the oath writers intended.  I tend to do things my own way.

I'm old.  Despite my expectations, I've survived until the third age of men.  In those many days, I've romantically loved maybe fifteen women and non-romantically loved maybe five hundred more.  I have two stepdaughters who carry a silent piece of me wherever they go.  I have a niece, who, quite frankly, I would cut you for.  And many millions more who I am honor-bound to care for.  Because she's a woman, is the world I've left for them.  I'm not satisfied.

Before Daddy died, I was having a drink with a lawmaker at Scrooges.  The old Scrooges, when they were still in the same building as the Rogue.  Even though he was on an education committee, this was purely a social call.  I liked the guy genuinely and enjoyed talking to him.  He told me how much he liked my sister.  She had just gotten out of college and just started associating with the fella she would eventually cleave to.  A thousand times, people have said how much they admired my sister, and they meant it.

"It's a shame she'll never get to do the things your daddy did."

Driving home, I regretted not punching him and getting thrown out of Scrooges for the first time ever.  The weight of what he said stunned me, though, and it took a while for the wheels in my head to put that information where it needed to go.  I'm old now.  My beard is mostly white, and that sentence still doesn't have the proper home in my brain.  Maybe it's for the best.  Because she's a woman was putting an unfair cap on my beloved baby sister and closest friend.

My sister could have and, by rights, should have done everything my father did and more.  She's smarter.  She's kinder.  She works harder.  She's a better athlete.  She's better looking.  (My dad had a tragically large nose.)  By rights, her fame should have dwarfed his.  Because she's a woman, got in the way.  I hate it.  

Before I cross over to the new lands, I'd like to do something about Because she's a woman.  I think it's time.  Technically I've already taken an oath to do so.  Maybe it's not what the oath writers intended, but it's what I intended.  I am stubborn, and I am honor-bound.