UGH MAGAZINE
june 2015 / vol. 1, issue 1
W
hat is UGH? Well, it’s an exclamation. It can be a grunt of frustration or an irrepressible expression of excitement; a shorthand way to voice our grievances, anticipation or enthusiasm. “UGH” is what we say when we slam the front door shut and realize we left our keys in our room, or when another white Republican male says that the Fallopian tubes are in a woman’s butt or something. “UGH” is what we say when someone on the metro is so hot we LITERALLY cannot take it, or when we’re about to see our best friend for the first time in months, or when Ilana Glazer rocks her newest crop top/mini skirt ensemble on an episode of Broad City. Sometimes things are so terrible or wonderful that we can’t begin to express ourselves articulately in traditional English, and so a message of “ughhhghghhghhghggh” encompasses all we could possibly say and more. In short, “UGH” represents all the highs and lows of young adult life. It’s miserable and magical, oh yeah. We were inspired to create this magazine because we realized that we are surrounded by a unique, expansive, and powerful pool of talent: our friends. Writers, artists, thinkers, feelers—we wanted to use their voices and skills to create a collection of the beautiful, nuanced, and powerful feelings that surround womxnhood. We welcome contributors of all identities to submit stories, articles, observations and art addressing this topic. The theme of our first issue is “Beginners”: coming of age stories, transitions, new discoveries and false starts. We additionally sought to spotlight women in traditionally maledominated fields—trailblazers young and old. This theme also very much describes us as a publication, and we are incredibly thankful to everyone who contributed to this issue and helped make it a reality. We hope to include even more varied voices and perspectives in the future. Ugh, we’re so excited. —H&J
Staff: Editors-in-Chief
Hazel Crampton-Hays & Justine Goode
Production Editor Justine Goode
Special Thanks to
Terri Burns, Caity Dekker, Zoë DePreta, Linda Diaz, Melinda Endaya, Lauren Field, Hannah Gold, Clara Gushner, Eliza Kirby, Stella Akua Mensah, Laura Shriver, Leann Skach, Sasha Solov & Helen Tuchmann Cover: Lauren Field / Back Cover: Leann Skach
in this issue part one: growing pains Baby Feminist, by Hazel Crampton-Hays Vagina Panic, by ZoĂŤ DePreta Slow Dance, by Eliza Kirby Ohio, by Helen Tuchmann Morning Flight, by Stella Akua Mensah
part two: trailblazers Chess Queen, by Linda Diaz There Will Always Be a Long Way to Go, by Terri Burns Just Do It, by Justine Goode Rivers and Roads, by Laura Shriver GRRLS to the Front: A Playlist, by Hannah Gold
Baby Feminist by Hazel Crampton-Hays
Taylor Swift's feminist evolution is exciting, but not end-game.
art by Clara Gushner, age 8
A
bout nine months ago, Taylor Swift finally came out as a feminist. Taylor credited her feminist genesis to Lena Dunham, a recently acquired BFF and avowed feminist advocate. In the months since Taylor’s declaration, she has upped her female friendship game to platinum, called out sexism in the media and music industries, and casually released the best-selling album in the United States for 2014. Taylor’s newly confirmed feminism comes at a time when the movement is undergoing a dually transformative period. On one side of the coin, (mostly) female celebrities have begun to safely label themselves feminists because the mainstreaming of feminism means that label no longer threatens their capitalist potential. These celebrity endorsements have brought feminism more widespread visibility, especially among devoted fans of these celebrities (see: Swifties). On the other side, the traditional feminism the celebrities are embracing has come under mounting criticism for its historical and continued exclusion of women of color, lowincome women, and trans women. Conversations about mainstream feminism’s exclusionary tendencies are not new, but they are increasingly gaining traction with the advent of feminism’s commercialization. Celebrities like Taylor Swift would do well to read up on the nuances of feminism and add some intersectional knowledge to their platforms. For Taylor, her feminism has largely manifested itself in the validation of the voices of young women. She uses her social media presence to reach out to fans going through breakups, bullying, and growing pains. In interviews, she tactfully shuts down questions designed to create drama between fellow powerful women. After years of being painted as an obsessive and crazy ex-girlfriend for her confessional lyrics, Taylor turned the sexist narrative on its head with her single “Blank Space” and simultaneously told legions of young people that expressing your feelings is not something to be shamed.
As a new feminist advocate, Taylor falls squarely into the category of “baby feminist,” a term coined by Ann Friedman and Aminatou Sow on their female friendship-celebrating podcast, “Call Your Girlfriend.” Taylor would probably love the way the two accomplished BFFs expertly discuss pop culture, current events, intersectional feminism, and menstruation. Ann and Aminatou label Taylor Swift a “baby feminist” not in a condescending way, but in acknowledgement that she has a lot to learn. We can celebrate Taylor Swift’s feminist awakening and still expect more from her. Since celebrity worship is all about projecting unrealistic expectations upon total strangers, here are my hopes and dreams for where Taylor Swift’s baby feminism takes her in 2015 and beyond. Educate Yourself (and then the Masses): Time to read up and reach out! How powerful would it be if Taylor started tweeting out bell hooks quotes and articles by Mia McKenzie? Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay might be a good place for Tay to start. Spice Up Your Songwriting: Taylor’s been slipping some subtly feminist lingo into her songs for a while, but why not go more overt? She has a perfect platform to talk about the nuances of being a modern day feminist. Might I suggest collaborating with Lena Dunham for “Problematic But Still Worth Loving?” Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is: Taylor Swift has received much (well-deserved) acclaim for her huge charitable donations. I would love to see Taylor continue her very noble deeds but also diversify her recipients. She could make some life-changing donations to grassroots activist movements and be even more impactful and intentional with her money. Female Friendship Anthem: We all deserve a sequel to “22”, especially now that Taylor has befriended every starlet under the age of 30. Please, Taylor. I just want some new lyrics for BFF Instagram captions. I love you. m
vagina panic I
t all started about ten years ago. I was standing backstage a month before my eleventh birthday, dressed in a baby elephant costume, performing in a professional ballet adaptation of “Babar the Elephant”. I had the sudden urge to pee (anyone who knows me knows that’s not out of the ordinary). I ran to the bathroom, took off my full body elephant suit and then my leotard and then my tights only to find that my light pink tights and white leotard had a burgundy liquid on them. At first I thought that I had spilled the cranberry juice I was drinking earlier. I then looked over at my elephant costume, which had nothing on it, and then at my toilet paper, realizing it was coming out of me. Of course my body decided to start my period while I was wearing a white leotard, pink tights and no underwear. I have an older sister who had already started her period, so I knew the whole deal. However, she started hers when she was around 13, so it came as quite a surprise. I immediately felt betrayed by Mother Nature. How could she do this to me three years too early? And in the middle of a performance? But I had to suck it up (the
show must go on after all). I put some toilet paper in my leotard, put the elephant costume back on, and danced through the rest of the performance. When I got home, I put on my first pad. I threw my clothes in the laundry and continued on with my day. My mom did my laundry that night and was surprised to see the blood in my costume. She was also surprised that I hadn’t told her. “Zoë, did you get your period?” “Oh… yeah.” “Okay… do you need anything?” “Nope, I’m good.” “Okay.” And that was that. I was good. I was totally fine. In fact, I was sort of proud. I mean, I was the first girl in the fifth grade to start her period, so I wore it like a badge and told some friends, who called me when they got theirs to get advice. Eventually most people started to get theirs, and so my glory wore away and the reality set in. I began to dread my monthly gift. I hated doing everything when I had my period. This was my life now. I guess there were some perks. In high school it
c
or, how I learned to stop worrying and love my period
became a monthly notification that I wasn’t pregnant. It also made my hair look really nice. Yay? The worst part of it for me was that I felt like a monster. I completely avoided any men I was interested in, dressed down, and allowed myself to succumb to feeling ugly. Years later when I was finishing up high school, my mom started to get sick a lot. Once a month, she would be stuck in bed in pain and exhausted, incapable of doing pretty much anything. I asked her about it, worried for her health when she told me it was due to menopause. I felt even more betrayed by Mother Nature. First you put me through Hell making me bleed out of my vagina once a month for a week, and then when it goes away it could potentially feel like death? And then you’re done reproducing forever. Excuse me? I went to college and continued loathing my monthly gift. When I first became involved with my current boyfriend, it became a source of anxiety. I avoided hanging out with him when I had it because I didn’t want to be heading towards sexy time and have to break the news. However, after having regular sex
by Zoë DePreta
for about 3 months, I couldn’t really avoid it anymore. I told him I had my period and he was shockingly calm, telling me that it doesn’t really bother him at all, and that we could even still have sex. My mind was blown. He wanted to have sex with me even though I’m bleeding out? What? Well, I certainly didn’t complain. From there, everything went up. I started getting my period and feeling really grounded. I always knew it was a reminder that I’m not pregnant, but it then became a reminder that my body is doing something regular. It’s a reminder that I’m healthy and fertile. I don’t want to say a man made me realize that my period was a good thing, because that’s not really what happened, but the concept of sex on my period really opened me up to the beauty. Instead of making me feel disgusting, I feel beautiful. I think back on my chubby little ten-year old-self in an awkward elephant costume and want to give her a hug. When your body starts something new, it can be totally scary. Simple as that. But I’m stronger for it! And now, I feel regulated and grounded in my body. m
sl ow dance
by eliza kirby
I
t’s this feeling I get, standing in his bedroom, letting my dress drop from my sunburned shoulders, that pulls me back to the sixthgrade social. Before they called them dances, when they brought a DJ into in the cafeteria and filled it with limp streamers, which hung like deflated snakes from the fluorescent light fixtures. The boys and the girls stood on opposite sides of the room, and when they put on a slow song a few brave ones (not me) would move to the middle to drape themselves over members of the opposite sex. I would stand in my safe middle ground, stomach aching as I watched boys’ hands hover and then rest on their partners’ waists. But they didn’t play many slow songs, and most of the night I could spend jumping to pop songs I pretended to hate but knew all the words to, miming the lyrics with my friends as we all danced in a circle. We’d laugh, make fun of the girls with their cakey makeup and cardboard-flat hair and see-through Abercrombie tops (my own outfit took three separate shopping trips to assemble). When I made eye contact with Mark, I thought he was Noticing me. Finally Seeing me. Not that I Liked Mark, but he was popular and cute-ish, and even then, already pleading silently for attention but still un-kissed, I felt a little thrill at having the power to say no to him if he asked me to dance. But he didn’t. He put a hand over his mouth, pointed at me, and started to laugh. I looked down.
My skirt (pink, short, from the juniors’ section of Kohl’s which I was still really too scrawny to fit into) had slid halfway to my knees. Exposed were my tights, the awkward flesh-colored kind I usually wore to dance class, and my underwear. It was one of those pairs that you always pull out of the laundry and stretch uncertainly, and you and think, “Hmm, the elastic is all messed up on these, I should throw them away,” but then you run out of clean ones and find these stuffed in the back of your drawer. This particular set was sky-blue with rainbows and itchy lace edging, and right now it was bunched up beneath my half-opaque tights. I yanked the skirt up and ran from the room, the music pulsing like the soundtrack to a fever dream in my ears. In the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror. I wiped sticky, shiny lip gloss from my mouth with the back of my hand. With the tips of my fingers wet from the sink, I tried to tame my hair, a frizzy brown halo behind my head. I pulled my skirt higher. For the rest of the night I sat in a stall, pulling my feet up out of sight whenever anyone came in, wondering what Mark was telling people. The boy in front of me now is not Mark. He doesn’t look like him, even. But I feel that stare on me, that seconds-from-laughter glint in his expression. Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe it’s what I’m pulling off my dress to reveal (gray cotton boy shorts and a pale pink lace bra; I’m not sure I own more virginal-looking underwear than this). They remind me of those rainbow panties, instantly thrown in the trash as soon as I was home in my pajamas that night. Or maybe it’s how I met this boy, dancing at a college party that felt like middle school, everyone mouthing along to the music and craning their necks to see if their crush had gotten there yet. I take a breath and slide my dress the rest of the way off. It’s new, his gaze on me. He’s sitting on the bed in boxers, but I feel smaller than him, more exposed. He pulls me into his lap, asks, “Have you ever done this before?” When I rest my lips against his ear and whisper, “Of course,” it almost doesn’t feel like a lie. m
Here are some photographs I took in the middle of my second Ohio winter. It is a time where beginnings and endings seem equally distant. I am often more anxious in this lethargic time then I am in the midst of a transition, and these pictures function for me as a way to appreciate that certain stillness. by Helen Tuchmann
morning flight by Stella Akua Mensah The clouds’ shadows look like bruises on the open land upon the stretches of my skin blood-spots sprout roses from the way your bones push into me clear empty fields where Her fingers and lips used to reside-for eight hundred days She made a home on me. The shadows of old die and renew, like the passing of Storm-clouds they make way for the Sun.
art by leann skach
chess
Queen
by Linda Diaz
In a game known for its kings, this queen comes out on top.
T
hough many of us do not mull over the representation of chess and of chess players in American culture, it would take you merely a moment’s thought to realize that we view chess as a man’s game. When we think about chess, we think about ancient kings and businessmen flexing their intellect with some “friendly competition”. When we think about chess, we think about lanky, white boys with horn rimmed glasses, suspenders, and a tendency to breathe too loudly and too closely to other individuals pushing pieces of wood in a dimly lit room. When we think about chess, we do not think about little, Black, Puerto Rican girls in pigtails and blue-checkered skirts struggling to get up into their chairs to kick the asses of opponents more than twice their age and size. But, why is that, exactly? In reality, it is true that as a woman in the chess world, I am one of a minority. It is also true that as a woman of color in the chess world, I am one of a handful of this minority. The ratio of men to women in the competitive chess world is about 100:1. However, when you look out over a chess tournament room into a sea of male chess players, it can often make you feel as if you are the only one. Especially when playing in smaller clubs and events, depending of course on the club’s location and popularity, this ratio may seem more like 999999999999:1. And playing in the United States, where chess is not viewed as a distinguished competitive sport, these numbers seem even smaller. When I started playing competitive chess in the third grade, young female chess players like myself were already few and far between. In all honesty, it is not common for young children to like to play chess, and it is even less likely that their parents will invest in them as chess players at such a young age. Chess tournaments are expensive, often far away, and games take hours to play. However, in my experience, many of my female counterparts who enjoyed the game as I did were bullied out of it, called nerdy or weird primarily by the other girls who had already had the idea instilled in their minds that chess was something that only dorky boys liked. As for the boys, they would tease and mock us relentlessly, touting their chess prowess and filling our minds with delusions of their intrinsic superiority. This is not a new phenomenon. In fact, there are a long history of laws that have banned both women and people of color from entering in chess tournaments. In the same way that society tells girls that they are not good at math, that they cannot be as competitive as men, and that they are simply not as smart as men (all attributes that are associated with the game of chess), society tells women that they are not good at chess. At
that age, it was much easier to throw on a pair of tights and spend hours on our tippy toes than to risk being a social pariah, and by the time I had reached my peak playing level in high school, the number both of women and of women of color had dwindled down to an easily countable number. I do not mean to give the impression that women do not play chess. Make no mistake that there are thousands of professional female chess players who make a living championing their male counterparts time and again. Additionally, many of these women have not only paved their own paths to success, but are working tirelessly to do the same for young girls entering the chess world who are bound to be discriminated against. Having been given the opportunity to play both across country and around the world, I have been fortunate enough to meet and compete among so many brilliant women, many of whom I am proud to call my lifelong friends. However, being a competitive female chess player can still be an isolating experience. Having played competitive chess for over a decade now, I have endured countless experiences where men of all ages have been unsportsmanlike, chauvinistic, and downright offensive to me simply because I am a female chess player. Since the ripe age of eight, I have faced opponents who have been furious to lose to me, so much so that they have thrown their boards across the table, disregarded my skill by calling me “lucky,” and on more than a few occasions, verbally harassed me even after the tournament had finished. Yet, despite experiencing sexism before I’d even had the chance to comprehend it, I have also gained so much from the competitive chess world. I have won national tournaments, been sponsored to attend invitational chess camps and tournaments across the globe, and given academic scholarships based on my chess abilities, all the while meeting some of the best people that I know. As a college student, I am thankful that I have had so much experience sitting in the same place and focusing on one thing for eight hours straight without losing energy or interest. As a woman, I am grateful to all of the women who have helped me beat all forms of discouragement and discrimination on my way to my multiple successes, my mother, my female chess-playing companions, and the women who have forged the path for me beforehand. Ultimately, I am very lucky to have been given the opportunity to see so much of the world, good and bad, through my experiences. I don’t regret my decision to skip out on ballet class on that fateful afternoon in third grade one bit. m
there will always
a long way t
The constantly evolving world of tech creates unique challen opportunities for those attempting to break in. By Terri Burns
I
started learning computer science in my sophomore year of college. I’ve spent the last two years coding for school, joining tech clubs, attending technology events, and meeting some of the smartest and most incredible people in my field. I’m so grateful to say that it’s been an overwhelmingly positive experience for me. I recognize that this is a privilege, particularly as a black woman; I am part of a demographic that has not always been treated fairly in this field. But admittedly, my biggest struggle with computer science is in line with the thing I love most about it: coming to terms with the fact that there is always something new to learn, something to spend infinite time working on, people who will always have more experience and expertise. In computer science, there will always be a long way to go in terms of learning and growing, which for novice computer science programmers like myself, can be really intimidating. When I took Data Structures, a quintessential computer science course, I went to tutoring at least once a week for help in completing each of my homework assignments for the class. The tutors were all peers of mine, people my age who had been coding for years. Every time I struggled with even explaining a problem with my code, these peers of mine were 10 steps ahead, helping me better explain the issue and guiding me through
how to restructure my thought process so I could rid my assignment of computer bugs. While I’ve appreciated the help so much (seriously, tutoring has become an essential part of my college experience at this point), there’s still always a part of me in the back of my mind that is scolding myself for not being as great at coding as so many of my college counterparts. I know that technical proficiency and expertise takes time and practice, but in a field where everyone seems to be working on bettering their skills all the time, it can be hard to believe that you’ll ever catch up. For the elementary school kids hacking on video games to up their high scores, the middle schoolers casually building computers, the high schoolers that are far more technically adept than I, learning computer science for the first time at age 19 is considered “late.” I still have so much to learn, andI find it hard to not compare myself to the offspring of software developers and electrical engineers that are building Silicon Valley who’ve been following in their parents footsteps for as long as they’ve been able to read and write. To be frank, I don’t think I’m that good at coding just yet. I have a long way to go before I’m totally comfortable with my technical skills, and I struggle with being okay with that. I’ve learned to play to my strengths -- I love attending tech conferences, networking, chatting with
ys be
to go
nges and
professors and recruiters, and through my social nature I have built fantastic relationships that have benefitted me academically and professionally. Notably, public speaking, strong communication skills, and overall networking is a regular weakness for a lot of computer programmers, though in many instances not a weakness directly related to being a great software engineer. I’ve learned that my strengths are what sets me apart, and I take solace in that. But at the end of the day, no amount of social skills can replace the ability to write clean, beautiful code, or to ace a computer science test. Even after I gain a lot of technical experience and knowledge, I know that there will always be a long way to go, and I’m learning to live with that. m
“In a field where everyone seems to be working on bettering their skills all the time, it can be hard to believe that you’ll ever catch up”
from class valedictorian to medical engineer to mom: melinda endaya has some simple advice for women in tech
just do it
by justine goode
M
ost kids grow up thinking their mom is the prettiest, most brilliant woman in the world. I was no different. I idolized my mother—an engineer with dark, serious eyes, tan skin and a thick mane of brown hair, she was the perfect combination of brains and beauty, just like my favorite Disney princess, Belle. Additionally, our similar appearances and quiet personalities always perpetuated an idea that we were one and the same; something I wore like a badge of honor. I began to suspect this wasn’t quite accurate near the end of high school, and definitely after I left for college: I veered sharply towards the humanities and
a spectacularly dramatic emotional life, whereas she pursued computer science and remains, to this day, one of the most maddeningly level-headed people I know. Our differences have led to disagreements and mutual frustration; but recently, our radically different paths have made me curious to explore the life of someone I thought I knew better than most. For me, my mom’s personal mythology consisted of a few specific facts: she was her high school’s valedictorian, she met my dad on the morning of her 18th birthday, she graduated college with honors in engineering, she worked for a while in Norway (I’m
pretty sure I was conceived there) before pursuing a career in medical engineering. What I did not know (among other things) was that one of her first jobs was on Ronald Reagan’s “Star Wars” Initiative, that she was a project lead for the Norweigan Royal Air Force at 28, and that she’s really, really good at throwing shade at coders. Having her explain her job was like hearing her speak a different language, and I was totally fascinated by how little I actually knew about this very large portion of her life. What follows is an excerpt of our conversation concerning women in tech, being a first generation college grad, and the evolution of the field of computer science over the past 30 years. Justine: How would you describe to a layperson what you do now? Melinda: Hm, that’s an interesting question. We work on implantable and handheld devices that monitor and treat cardiovascular conditions. J: And your day to day work—how much is coding and how much is engineering? M: I probably haven’t coded in four or five years. For the majority of my career, I’ve been a hybrid of project manager and developer. So even back at Hughes, I was a developer but also a project lead. The kind of stuff I worked on — I was always sensitive about being called a programmer, because to me a programmer, at least at that time, was someone who wrote programs for big machines that just executed a ton of instructions. But for me, I was drawn to the engineering side so I went into real-time, embedded software. Embedded means that it’s low-level software that’s very closely tied to the hardware, so it’s interfacing with the hardware as well as the data. And real-time is significant too, it’s not like, “Let me do this big long calculation”, it’s more like—we’ve got these inputs coming in, you have to process it and do something with it in real time, while new data and events continue to come in. Embedded is also kind of at the opposite end from the user interface with displays, and buttons and graphics. J: Ok, that makes a lot of sense, because I remember growing up you would always be working closely with devices. But I got confused, because I also remembered that a long time ago, maybe 10 years, you were working on interfaces and buttons and things like that.
M: Right, and that was a change for me. So the bulk of my career was embedded work. But then when I joined Savacor (a startup company), I was the only developer, so I had to do the embedded and the user interface sides, and that that became my first foray into user interface development. That was when you were in first grade. So, I had to write the code that was talking to the implanted sensor device, process that data in real time, and then on the other side, display the data and interact with the patient and clinician. So it was endto-end; challenging but fun. Working for a startup and being the only developer (for a time) was a really interesting career opportunity.
“It was literally one lunchtime conversation with my English teacher, where he said, “You’re good at math and science. You should go into engineering. And that was it. That’s how I decided to be an engineer.” J: How have the shifts in technology affected you? I mean, I’m sure you just adapt, but have there been any really significant changes since you started? M: In general, the miniaturization of electronics is hugely significant in all product development. Though the industries I’ve worked in - particularly the regulated medical space - by definition can’t be early adopters of the newest technologies. Over the years, though, and across industries, I have to say it’s amazing to realize how far our development tools have progressed—like being able to do serious work on a tiny laptop, away from the office, vs. being sequestered in a rooftop lab with a very large, very immobile workstation. J: How did you get into computer science? Did they offer courses in high school, or did you discover it once you got to college?
M: [laughs] It was literally one lunchtime conversation with my one of my teachers— with my English teacher, I think—where he said, “You’re good at math and science. You should go into engineering.” And that was it. That’s how I decided to be an engineer. J: How old were you? M: I was probably a senior. J: But you were younger, because you skipped a grade. So, you were sixteen? Seventeen? M: Actually, it was probably near the end of my junior year. So sixteen. J: So they didn’t offer computer science classes yet in high school? M: No, definitely not. J: So when you got to Santa Clara, that was the first time you learned anything about coding? M: Yeah. J: Do you remember what some of your first courses were? M: Well, when I went in, you could take computer science in the math department or the engineering department. So I decided to take it in the engineering department. I think the math department was probably more programming focused, and in engineering I had more electronics and hardware courses. But I also took classes like Logic in the math department, which was really interesting. And one of my all-time favorite teachers was my freshman year Calculus teacher. J: And what kind of technology were you using for these courses? What kinds of computers and programs were you using? M: Oh man. I think we programmed in FORTRAN and Pascal, and the math
department might have been using COBOL with punch cards. The computer was probably a PDP-11. J: So how did you decide to join the engineering department instead of math? M: I thought engineering was more hands on, and had more practical applications. And that kind of problem solving interested me more than pure coding. I liked the idea of building things. J: And were you nervous when you started, since it was just completely new for you — and not just for you, but the field itself was still relatively young, right? M: The computer science topics were harder to get my head around, so it was nice to have the electrical engineering stuff that was more concrete and easier to dig into. But eventually it all came together. And no, I wasn’t nervous. J: Of course you weren’t. M: And it’s not because I’m this supremely confident person or anything. But it does lead me to a topic that’s given me pause lately — hearing repeatedly in the media that young women need to be specially encouraged in order to pursue a degree in computer science. I realize that I don’t have first-hand experience with what students are experiencing today, but it’s hard to reconcile with my own experiences way back when. I think I’m probably the shyest person of all time, but I didn’t go into engineering because someone said, “It’s okay, you can do it, don’t let the boys intimidate you.” It was really just, “This is what I’m suited for, and it sounds interesting, so that’s what I’ll do.” This idea that you have to be coddled into going tech— J: Well, I don’t think they’re trying to coddle girls. But I actually think that’s a really good example of how people would want women to approach tech. Just having the confidence in themselves that
they can do it. So that seems really empowering. How did you feel about being an engineering major, compared your friends or Dad? M: I don’t mean to dismiss the current experiences of young women studying computer science; I was just lucky to have nice classmates and a good environment, so it was easy to just follow through with the plan. But regarding majors, I had friends in engineering, but also business, humanities, sciences. I suppose the engineering workload might have been considered a little bit heavier, or at least, more structured. But no one was thinking, “Oh, I work so much harder, I have so much more to do.” Everybody just got their work done. J: [laughs] Yeah…that’s definitely a change. I feel like your answers are pretty straightforward—you were never nervous, you just did what you wanted to do—but I was wondering if you felt similarly about being not only the first woman in your family to go into computer science, but the first person in your family to attend and graduate from college. Was that something you thought about? M: No. In fact, when you mentioned that context—it’s not like it was a surprise to me, but recently when that topic came up somewhere else, I literally had to stop and think, “Wait, am I the first?” It just hadn’t come up before. J: I mean, that’s why I asked, because for many people, that’s something really important to them—it’s a big accomplishment. But then I realized that my own mom is a first generation college grad, and we’ve never discussed it. M: Yeah, it is interesting, but it wasn’t a big thing. It wasn’t like Mimi and Papa [her parents] said, “Wow, you’re going to college!” J: It was just expected. M: And the thing about being a woman, or a first this or that, whatever—and this is probably just my personality, or my lack of personal awareness—but you just do what you do. J: And I’m sure you would say it’s never been a problem; it’s never gotten in your way, or in your head, that you’re a woman in a male-dominated field, but I wanted to ask if you’ve ever been met with unique obstacles. For example,
“I’m coming to the conclusion that [women’s experiences] are industry specific. I came up in ‘old school’ engineering industries. Maybe being a woman that kind of tech is entirely different from today’s Silicon Valleycentric tech world.” how many women were in your courses in college, and how many women have been in the workplace with you during your career? M: Well, certainly, girls were a minority in the engineering classes. But it never felt like a problem. We did gravitate toward each other and become friends, but then again, we became friends with the boys, too. It’s really interesting—I don’t know if I was really lucky or really oblivious, but the gender imbalance wasn’t an issue for me. Maybe Tau Beta Pi (engineering honor society) is a good example. Like I said, I’m a shy person. But we were having a meeting and they asked, “Who wants to run for president [of the campus chapter]?” And it wasn’t something I would normally do - I don’t like standing out - but then my other personality trait was that I felt bad, because nobody else was raising their hand. So I raised my hand, and that’s how it happened. It wasn’t a big deal, like “Oh, there’s a girl president of Tau Beta Pi.” It was just like, “Glad somebody did it.” When I started working after college, there were, not surprisingly, fewer women than men at my company. But in that case, I didn’t necessarily gravitate toward the other women to make friends – I gravitated to the other new engineers, who happened to be mostly men. The experience of being new college grads starting our careers was the more significant common thread at that point.
J: What I remember is you’ve just worked with really, really nice people your whole career, and I feel like that’s probably been significant. And that definitely helps in male-dominated fields—I feel like you’ve had really nice work environments. M: I know that statistically, my field is male-dominated, but my actual experiences are not. I’ve been really lucky to work with smart, hard-working, nice people— women and men—throughout my career. And that’s been true at multiple places. When I repeatedly hear about the hostile environments that “women in tech” are experiencing today, it doesn’t jibe with my last three decades. I’m kind of coming to the conclusion that maybe it’s industry-specific. I came up in “old school” engineering industries – defense, medical, even a brief stint in automotive electronics. Maybe being a woman in that kind of tech is entirely different from today’s Silicon Valley-centric tech world. But I can come up with one anecdote—and I think my lack of anecdotes is telling in itself. But when I was working at Hughes, they were making some
kind of promotional video showing our labs and the equipment—we do this, we do that, etc. And so they got my friends to do it, two or three guys and me. So we just read a script like: “Here’s this, there’s that, here’s a test chamber that’s hermetically sealed.” And then after they previewed the video at the site, some middle-aged engineer came up to me and said, laughing, “Do you even know ‘hermetically sealed’ means?” You know, “lar lar lar” (editor’s note: this is my mom’s strange way of saying “har har har”. We don’t know where it comes from). J: Oh my God! That’s awful! M: I’m sure I didn’t say anything, but I was thinking, “Of course I know what it means! I have a Bachelor’s degree in engineering!” His attitude probably wasn’t just because I was a woman; I looked really young, too. I probably looked like a high school student. It was just annoying; it obviously didn’t affect my career. It’s more expedient to just ignore the doofuses and get on with doing good work. m
The author (center) with her mother and grandmother
&
rivers
roads
a photo essay by laura shriver
I spent this past semester in Christchurch, New Zealand, studying at the university and researching the behavioral ecology of fur seals. I love ecology because, unlike most sciences, it operates from a systems perspective. It’s holistic rather than reductionist: the whole is more than the sum of its parts, so we study how the parts interact, rather than the parts on their own. As a Unitarian Universalist, I was taught to respect the interconnected web of life, and ecology embodies this principle. Everything living is connected, especially in ecosystems, and removing one component has innumerable effects. As I’ve travelled around New Zealand, I’ve tried to capture some of the unique and intricate landscapes and ecosystems of the country. Here are a few.
a v C V {
A N d v
new issue august 2015