Women March on Houston

Feminists and their foes square off around the big national meeting

Nothing like it has been seen in the U.S. in at least 129 years--or ever. In driving rain, while a band belted out The Yellow Rose of Texas, a bronze torch made its final lap in front of Houston's Albert Thomas Convention Center late last week in the strong hands of Tennis Star Billie Jean King. She was greeted by some 2,000 determined women chanting "ERA! ERA!"--for the Equal Rights Amendment. Puffed New York City's hefty Bella Abzug, who trotted the last stretch with Billie Jean: "We are here running for equality. We'll never run for cover on this journey."

So ended a 2,612-mile feminine relay that began last September in Seneca Falls, N.Y., where a doughty band of suffragettes had held the first national women's conference in 1848. And so began--with hoopla, bombast, some unsisterly rancor and, overall, deadly serious intentions--the largest political conference of women ever assembled in the country. The nearly 2,000 delegates and more than 12,000 observers who later jammed Sam Houston Coliseum for the three-day National Women's Conference provided some answers to Freud's vexing question: What does a woman want?

Most want quite a few things--and some women would rather not have them at all. By their votes, it was clear that most delegates want passage of the ERA, accessible and safe abortion, Government funding for day care, and a host of other measures promoting greater social and economic equality for their sex.

Women of all professions and persuasions descended on the city: feminists of the National Organization for Women (N.O.W.), compliant "total women," housewives, antiabortionists. In a remarkable scene, three wives of Presidents--Rosalynn Carter, Betty Ford and Lady Bird Johnson--paid homage to the women's movement at the opening session as delegates waved handkerchiefs and colored balloons. Feminist celebrities included Conference Chairwoman Abzug, Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan and Susan B. Anthony II. On the other side of Houston, more than 15,000 women who opposed feminist goals gathered in a counterconference. Said Phyllis Schlafly, the Alton, Ill., housewife and law student who has become the spearhead of U.S. antifeminism: "If people really find out what the movement is, it will be on the skids. We're here to show they do not represent the view of the American people."

Getting the view of women was what the conference was all about. Its recommendations are to go to President Carter by next March. The law that set up the federally supported conference stipulates that the President submit recommendations to Congress within 120 days.

The meeting was conceived in 1975 as an expression of the U.N.-declared International Women's Year. Congress provided $5 million in funding. A total of 56 state and territorial meetings elected delegates for Houston and drew up a "National Plan of Action" that would "identify the barriers that prevent women from participating fully and equally in all aspects of national life"--and recommend ways to remove them.

The 38-page National Plan contains 26 resolutions on ways to end sexual discrimination in employment, education, marital property relations and other areas. Proposed suggestions range from greater compensation and Government-supported counseling for rape victims to a federal timetable for adding female managers to the Government bureaucracy.

Five of the resolutions were dubbed "hot buttons"--controversial, high priority items. Among them: endorsement of ERA, a proposal for federally financed child care programs, a demand that Government funds be available for abortions (now known in feminist parlance as part of "reproductive freedom"). Another item calls for a legal end to discrimination based on "sexual and affectional preference"--in short, acceptance of lesbianism. The final "hot button" was that Jimmy Carter establish a Cabinet-level women's department that would strive to guarantee equal opportunities for women.

Every one of those ideas is anathema to feminism's conservative opponents. In Utah last summer 14,000 women, mostly conservative, with the avid encouragement of the Mormon church, packed a meeting that chose 14 conference delegates. In Mississippi, of 20 elected delegates, six were white men who opposed the ERA, abortion and any Government money for day care. The antifeminists drew strength from organizations as disparate as the John Birch Society and conservative Roman Catholic groups upset by the feminist stands on abortion. They also received extensive support from unaffiliated individuals--women and men alike--who fervently believe that the women's movement is antifamily, and worse. Said Homer Morgan, a Jackson, Miss., accountant and conference delegate: "We don't think the National Plan of Action projects good Christian moral ideals."

The conservatives failed to win the majority of delegates, but as the conference opening neared they put the method of delegate selection itself under attack. Illinois' Schlafly charged in Houston that there was "a studied campaign to exclude those who did not agree" with the feminist point of view. That drew a stinging rejoinder from Steinem: "The people here are infinitely more representative than the legislatures of New York or Utah or Florida."

Ironically, the last event in the Sam Houston Memorial Coliseum, on the night before the women's conference began, was a wrestling match. By then, the sniping from both sides had grown bitter. Conservative groups belonging to the Pro-Family Coalition had taken out a half-page ad in the Houston Post showing a young girl holding a nosegay. The headline: MOMMY, WHEN I GROW UP CAN I BE A LESBIAN? Arlie Scott, a N.O.W. vice president who is a lesbian, termed the ad "a new low." Some feminist zealots got off their own low blows, such as trying to make it appear that the conservatives were intimately allied with the Ku Klux Klan. Raged Schlafly: "An absolutely deliberate libelous smear."

In one sense, all the sound and fury in Houston merely served as embellishment for the real gains--and setbacks--of the women's movement in the U.S. in recent years. Neither feminists nor conservatives could dispute that American women have come a long way toward social and economic equality, and that they still have quite a way to go.

Over the past quarter century, the number of American women employed in paying jobs has doubled, to nearly 39 million last year. The Bureau of Labor Statistics estimates that an additional 12 million women will be added to the labor force by 1990 v. 10 million men. Already, more than half of all women aged 20 to 64 either hold jobs or are seeking them, and their rush into the labor force has aggravated the nation's unemployment. More than 5 million women are now employed in blue-collar jobs, amounting to 18% of the total in that category.

The proportion of women in major professions has risen dramatically. In 1970 only 4.7% of the country's lawyers and judges were female; by last year that figure had virtually doubled. During the same period, the proportion of women physicians rose from 8.9% to 12.8%, while the percentage of female bank officials and financial managers rose from 17.6% to 24.7%.

The future looks equally inviting. In the nation's graduate business schools, one student in five is a woman. In law and medicine, the proportion is even higher: one in four.

Women are also beginning to make an appearance--finally--in the higher reaches of business. Some 400 sit on corporate boards of directors v. 20 just five years ago. Women are increasingly joining the ranks of management, at least at the lower levels. A revealing case is that of the Georgia Pacific Corp., a Portland, Ore., wood products giant. Four years ago, women employed in its management were very rare; now half of its credit managers are female, along with 15% of its sales force. Says La Mar Newkirk, a Georgia Pacific spokesman: "Five or six years ago, where would you find a woman who could talk to customers about grades and specifications of lumber and plywood?"

In politics, while women have never been well represented, they are making some headway at the state and local levels. The number of female state legislators has virtually doubled since 1971, to 685. There are 90 women mayors of American cities that have populations of more than 10,000. Nearly half--six of 13 members--of the Minneapolis city council is now female. In tiny Flemington, Ga., every municipal office is held by a woman. Says Betty Friedan: "Women have gained enormously over the last 15 years. We have broken through the barriers, and it is more than just tokenism."

But there is ample bad news, too. Working women are still disproportionately herded into so-called pink-collar jobs--teaching, clerical and retail sales work. The median salary for American women last year was only 60% that of American men. Indeed, 94.7% of those earning $15,000 or more in the U.S. are male. Women still do not get equal pay for equal work: Female high school teachers earn only 81% as much as their male peers, and female scientists receive 76% as much. Of the 301 people appointed to major jobs by President Carter, only 13% are women. There are only 17 women in Congress, and no woman has ever sat on the U.S. Supreme Court.

New legislation has helped women advance in some areas. One example: the federal Equal Credit Opportunity Act of 1974 makes it illegal for a lender to deny a person credit on the basis of sex or marital status, a practice that often had made it difficult for women to get mortgages or personal loans. On the other hand, legislation for federal subsidy of child care centers for working mothers is stalled in Congress. Most important of all, the Equal Rights Amendment is still three states shy of ratification, with only 16 months left before the proposition expires.

Clearly, there are innumerable challenges left for the women's movement. But activists can congratulate themselves for having accomplished much in a surprisingly short time. Says Joanne Alter, a Chicago Sanitary District commissioner: "Sure, we have a long way to go. But remember, the women's movement is very young. Nine years ago, when I would talk about a woman on the Supreme Court, people would look at me as if I were crazy." No longer. Sums up Pam Faust, executive director of the California State Commission on the Status of Women: "The changes are valid and profound. Whether or not you're for the women's movement, it has changed your life." On that there is no argument.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.