I was young, a mere child, during the civil rights movement. If I had my feet under me I’d have been on those buses.
Likewise when my father said I was going to college for a MRS, to be a wife, degree, yeah, I fooled him for over 20 years after I worked for others, then for him. As a consultant.
Back in the day I helped with the first legislation to allow same-sex couples to have a home and a job. Decades later, they can finally get married. I’d like to think I was a part of that. Job security on the NYC building code was essential so we required 42″ netting. Privacy was my goal and it has been eroded as now cell phones can hear what we say on the phone as well as off the phone. I hope the NSA likes me talking or signing to my deaf dog.
Today, I spent several hours talking to our bank, an account I placed my husband on over 15 years ago. They actually talked to me today and set an appointment for business and personal accounts. They did not say, as usual “we need your husband’s approval before we can speak with you.” But it’s my account! I had it for years before we met.
We’re legally half-owners of both the marriage and the business. I was forced to give up my consulting business to move everywhere with my husband, so now I cook and arrange flowers, feed and walk the dog and go to a museum from time to time. And pay bills and do taxes et al.
I always made less than the guys I worked with, and was told that they were married or they had kids as an excuse for paying me less. I worked more hours than anyone (I was assigned to cover for them in the office until their bill was to come up on the floor, sometimes until 4 a.m. and we all had to be in by nine no matter what and had three times the bills to carry) and was propositioned in elevators by elected officials and had to properly deflect those requests. My job should have required more pay, rather than less. Dee