The Old Boys' Club

When I was born, my dad tells me, he worried about the fact that I was a girl. Not that he thought I (and my sister, for that matter) would be any less capable of achieving our dreams, but he worried that we would not have as many opportunities. That was the eighties-- things were improving, but they were certainly not all the way there yet. They aren't today, either.

My parents did not press gender issues on my sister and I. I was allowed to wear all the frilly dresses I wanted, and my sister was encouraged to do all the sports she wanted. They shopped at "Play Fair Toys," a toy store that sadly no longer exists, where everything was non-discriminatory and Barbie was nowhere to be seen. And I was always, always told that I could do anything I wanted, when I grew up. I was brilliant and capable, they told me, and nothing would stop me if I didn't want it to. As a child, it never occurred to me that girls were not as smart as boys, or not as good at science and math-- to be honest, I always thought the opposite. Boys were strong, girls were smart. Boys were good at physical things, girls were good at school things.

When I showed an interest in science, my parents encouraged that as much as they had encouraged everything else, from the frilly dresses I loved as a kid to the sports Jess played to ballet classes. They-- well, Santa-- got me a telescope and the MASSIVE Smithsonian chemistry set that you probably can't buy anymore because it's unsafe. I was put into advanced science and math classes in school, and my mom took me to a summer chemistry class for kids up at CU Boulder. And when, many years later, I decided I wanted to study physics and attend the Colorado School of Mines, they were proud. No one-- not me, not my family, not my friends-- questions whether I could do it. Of course I could-- hadn't they said all along that I could do anything I wanted?

My dad worried, though. Those old, nagging doubts about my being a girl came back full force, as I prepared to go into a field that had always been and still was very much dominated by men. It's an old boys' club, he told me. Are you sure you are ready for this? he asked. He wasn't trying to dissuade me; Dad worries, it's just what he does. He was trying to warn me. I might never have met anyone who thought I couldn't do something because I was a girl, but they were out there, and choosing to study physics and go to Mines, I was increasing the chances that I would run into them.

This is something I think about a lot; the fact that so many people have warned me about something that I have never felt the effect of. I wonder if I am merely oblivious to it, or perhaps if other people are more sensitive. I wonder if perhaps I was always so far ahead of everyone else that it didn't matter. (Yes, I have a healthy ego. It's also not an unreasonable thing for me to wonder.) If I had been less advanced, would people have discouraged me because of my gender? Or was I just incredibly lucky, to have led a life where such things never touched me?

Every year, the American Physical Society (a professional organization for physicists and people interested in physics) sponsors a Convention for Undergraduate Women in Physics, on about half a dozen campuses around the country. This year, in January, several of our students went, and they offered to have Mines be one of the host campuses next year. One of the really interesting things about this convention is that it is organized almost entirely by students; they were asking for volunteers to help out. So I signed up; I'm on four committees. Not only is this something that I think is a really good idea, something that I care a lot about, it's also something that will look really, really good on a resume.

Next year is going to be a really busy year...