NOW

convention

is shouting match

Conversation with Myself after my first NOW convention in Philadelphia, the "City of Sisterly. Love":

"Something is wrong, and maybe it's me. For years, I've worked for women having an equal place, but (I have to admit it), after attending the convention of the National Organization for Women and watching and listening to the 60,000 women who are largely carrying it through, I am really turned off."

"What," Myself asked archly, "hurt your tender sensibilities so much this time?"

"Knock it off," I muttered angrily. "I expected some just some — human dignity. I expected discussions of issues. Instead, there was only endless power playing. Everybody who could get to the microphone screamed at the top of her lungs, vilifying somebody else.

"A lesbian was going up and down the voting line, yelling at 'straights,' 'Just go on acting like a lady see what that gets you!'

"And talk about being an individual! Well, the uniform code was as strict as the one that governs ladies' bridge clubs from Winnetka to White Plains. If you didn't wear a work shirt and blue jeans, watch out!"

"So now," answered Myself, with that heavy theatrical sign that always aggravates me in our conversations, you are judging people by their dress. It pains me on this, but you haven't ooked exactly like a fash-

to

alw.

ion model yourself.”

I ignored the last statement. “If

I am," I answered haughtily, "it is only beacuse this uniform is a statement: It says to the women who don't dress that way, 'We're different from you therefore, something is clearly wrong with you.'".

Myself paused, to my amazement, for an untypical hestitation.

"But the fact is that NOW has fought for a lot of good things for women," she finally said. "and any

'I expected some human dignity'

group that fights for change is bound to be different and more radical than the mainstream."

"Sure," I cried. "But at the same time, if they go too far, and lose contact with the very people they need to win over, that change

that we all want isn't going to come about.

"Karen DeCrow barely won the presidency for a second time, for instance, on a platform of 'Out of the mainstream, into the revolution.' At the same time, she says she wants to bring more secretaries, housewives, nurses and clerical workers into the movement. It just doesn't scan.”

"By God, now I know what your trouble is!" Myself cried suddenly. "You're a sexist yourself. You really think women are better than men and therefore should act better."

I restrained Myself admirably

Georgie

Anne Geyer

from saying that, after being pinched under the table for the 15th time on any number of working evenings, the thought had crossed my mind. Instead, I said, "Maybe that's partially true. But basically I think that women could and should bring new qualities qualities of empathy and understandig -into our violent world."

"But then..." (For her, Myself was almost nice now.) "But then, you must realize that women have not yet developed any code of behavior in public life, as men have over the centuries."

"You know," I said excitedly, "that's just what Margie Robertson, a housewife and a fine poet from Cincinnati told me at the convention. She said, 'We're getting the political smarts, but the tragedy is that, instead of using them on the outside, we're practicing on one another.'

"And virtually every young member I spoke to was deeply disgusted with the politicking and the name-calling. So perhaps underneath, there is a large group looking for something better.

"And there was the terrific Australian feminist, Elizabeth Reid, who said, 'Our task is not to turn. women into men, but to question the polarity between men and women, between the superior and the inferior, between the powerful and the powerless. We want more than just equality on the same terms as men.'”

"So," exclaimed Myself, who is also sometimes known as my conscience, "there is some hope?"

"Yes," I answered softly. "I think maybe there is."