Beverly called the names of the honorees, and they came up to receive their medals from me. Michele videotaped the event, while my daughter-in-law, Elinore, and Merikay McLeod took photos.

Once the event was over, many of the honorees came up to personally thank me. Hopefully, they'll all join VFA. They'll receive our ENEWS letter and a note reminding them. It's so important that feminists keep connected, even after many have retired from activity.

WHY STOCKTON? A LITTLE BACKGROUND: In 1962 I lived  in Bogota with my Colombian husband and four children, a "dama de la casa" with time to devote to my great love, singing. One day I was introduced to a visiting soprano, Aline Eraso, who'd moved to Bogota  with her Colombian husband and 3 year old daughter. After Aline and family returned to her home town of Stockton, California we exchanged Xmas cards for years, though our lives went in completely different directions. She was singing with the Stockton Opera Company and I was back in New York working full time in the movement.

In the 1980s I was living in New Orleans recuperating from years of heavy feminist activity  and Aline visited me with her daughter, Elinore. At the time my son Denis was also visiting. It had to be fate. They married and have lived in Stockton for 10 years. 

 

 

"Of course', she said, 'Beverly McCarthy," and gave me her address. Beverly is one of the most important women in town, years ago, and still is. (right: Mayor Ann Johnston, Jacqui Ceballos,

Beverly McCarthy and Ruth Gottstein)

I sent Beverly information about VFA. She joined immediately, but every time I was in town, she was off somewhere.

Last November, in Stockton for Thanksgiving, we finally met. Of course I urged her to have a VFA event to honor Stockton's pioneer feminists. Beverly, who has been president of the local NOW chapter several times and every year for the past 20 or so has given a Susan B. Anthony celebration, agreed. She had the Status of Women Commission co-sponsor it, sent out a letter to all she felt  deserved to be honored, and the rest is herstory. Jacqui 

Merikay McLeod  writes an article in her local newspaper that reminds us how important our work was.... and is!   
 
DOORS HAVE BEEN OPENED FOR US THROUGH THE EFFORTS OF OTHERS  - Merikay McCleod

I was reminded recently that we're often so solidly stuck in our oh-so-busy present, we forget how we got here. Such forgetting can rob us blind, and even hurt others.

For example, I vote in local, state and national elections. I work, receive a paycheck and deposit that check in my bank account. I own real estate. All of these things were once denied women, but today they are part of my ordinary life. These and so many other things have come to me as the result of other people's hard work.

When we forget that doors have been opened for us through the efforts of others, we may fool ourselves into thinking that we opened them ourselves. Or we may traipse blindly through life, thinking we owe no one for all we have. (left: Merikay McLeod)

Such ignorance breeds the arrogance of entitlement.

What reminded me of all this was a luncheon at the Stockton Golf and Country Club August 27, honoring 43 local feminists whose efforts have changed the world in small and large ways.

Sponsored by the San Joaquin County Commission on the Status of Women and the Veteran Feminists of America, the luncheon was an enthusiastic celebration. More than 150 women and men from throughout the foothills and Central Valley attended.

Jacqui Ceballos, national president of VFA, flew in from Arizona to personally congratulate the feminist activists - some well into their 80s - for making America better.

As each honoree's name was announced, Ceballos slipped a VFA medal of honor on a red-white-and blue ribbon over her head, and thanked her for her contribution while the audience cheered and applauded.

I was one of the 43 honored. I received my medal for bringing equal pay to a religious publishing house back in the 1970s. Before my lawsuit, women at Pacific Press Publishing Association earned about half what men earned, and they had no opportunity for equal advancement.

As Jacqui Ceballos slipped my medal over my head and thanked me for the effort I had put forth so many years ago, I marveled. My experience back then was one of being ridiculed, criticized, ostracized, shunned and even threatened. There were few thanking me in those far away days. Instead, Most of my colleagues were busy badmouthing and mudslinging in a desperate attempt to distance themselves from the "crazy libber" insisting on equal pay for equal work.

My story is similar to the other 42 honorees' stories. We each pursued our cause because it was the right thing to do, and because we did not want others to have to live in the world we'd endured.

My husband is a Viet Nam vet and whenever he describes the sick-at-heart feeling of risking all only to be vilified upon returning home, I tell him I know the feeling. (right: the gathering crowd)

As with veterans of other wars, we women didn't take on the cause to be thanked, but the VFA 'thank you' felt profound.

Whenever I hear radio personalities referring to feminists as Nazis, whenever I hear women repudiating the struggles that have given them lives rich with possibilities, or shrugging carelessly about the rights and privileges they now enjoy, I want to shake them and say "Don't you realize the sacrifices that have been made on your behalf?" At the VFA luncheon, an entire roomful of people knew well the sacrifices and it felt transforming to be in their presence.

Another foothill feminist - Ruth Gottstein of Volcano in Amador County - received a medal. Gottstein owns Volcano Press. She published the first book in the U.S. addressing domestic violence.

During the luncheon, we told each other our stories - sad, funny, frightening -- and always with the ending that our efforts had made a difference and that difference made the struggle worthwhile.

Stockton Mayor Ann Johnston, who MC'd the event, said the best part of being mayor is seeing the expressions on the faces of young girls who come to her office.

"They say, 'You mean, I can be mayor?'" she said. "The light of possibility shines from their faces."

For me, the best part of the luncheon was remembering what sisterhood feels like. And remembering that here in America, our rights and responsibilities come to us through the (often hard-fought) efforts of others.