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4 r.CJ B 1 I 1 I Idl Friday,April 11988
Nebraskan
University of Nebraska-Lincoln
Mike Rcillcy, Editor, 472-1766
Diana Johnson, Editorial Page Editor
Jen Dcselms, Managing Editor
Curt Wagner, Associate News Editor
Chris Anderson, Associate News Editor
Joan Rczac, Copy Desk Chief
Joel Carlson, Columnist
‘Herstory’ ignored
Recorded past is of, by and for men
“Of our fathers we know always
some fact, some distinction.
They were soldiers or they were
sailors; they filled that office or
they made that law. But of our
mothers, our grandmothers, our
great-grandmothers, what re
mains? Nothing but a tradition.
One was beautiful; one was red
haired; one was kissed by a
Queen. We know nothing of them
except their names and the dates
of their marriages, and the
number of children they bore ."
—Virginia Woolf
Tucked among listings of
American, European,
ancient, medieval and
modem history classes in the
University of Nebraska-Lincoln
class schedule is a course en
titled “Women in History.”
Some question whether a
class on the roles and accom
plishments of women from an
tiquity to the present is necessary
or simply redundant in light of
the many other classes offered at
UNL. but a glance through the
materials of other courses re
veals that the experiences of
women have largely been ig
nored or trivialized.
Women’s studies courses and
. the celebration of Women’s His
tory Month, which concluded
Thursday, attempt to correct the
inattention given women’s is
I sues and accomplishments.
Many feminists use the word
“herstory” in reference to the ex
periences of women. This word,
according to Casey Miller and
Kate Swift, emphasizes that
“women's lives, deeds and par
ticipation in human affairs have
been neglected or underval ued in
standard histories.”
H.M. Swan wick wrote in
1935 that history is “largely a
record of battles or of alliances in
preparation for battles.” Ihe
lives of women have been omit
ted or not regarded as “real his
toryWomen have been consid
ered mainly as wives, mothers
and daughters of important men.
But such an approach ignores
the contributions of women such
as Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Mar
garet Sanger, Elizabeth Black
well, Harriet Tubman, Sally
Ride, Golda Meir and Mother
Teresa. Not only have women
been ignored in history classes,
but works by men dominate lit
erature and art history studies,
even though there have been
many talented women writers
and artists. And books by
women often are demoted to the
status of “romance,” when simi
lar works by men are considered
classics of literature.
Further indication of the trivi
alization of women’s accom
plishments is the persistent la
beling by gender rather than by
talents. While men can be doc- ;
tors, lawyers and writers, even
the most accomplished of their
female counterparts are referred
to as “lady doctors,” “lady law
yers” and “women writers.”
Think of the strangeness of refer
ring to a physician as a “man
doctor.”
Congress has declared March
Women’s History Month each
yearsincc 1982. According to an
article in the Christian Science
Monitor, each state plans cele
brations in conjunction with the
month. Essay contests, parades
and awards are among the events
during the month.
Women’s studies curricula
and events such as Women’s
History Month and UNL’s
Women’s Week aim to increase
people’s awareness of the treat
ment of women. But ultimately,
such endeavors have a more
idealistic goal: to work for the
day when women’s issues and
history arc integrated into main
stream education and students
learn not only the accomplish
ments of their forefathers, but of
their foremothers as well.
Lynch thanked for proposing helmet law
since state sen. uan uyncn pro
posed LB428, the mandatory helmet
law, I have heard many complaints
from others who say it is an infringe
ment on their rights. 1 would like to
thank Lynch for proposing this very
important bill.
My 18-yeai -old brother was one of
the “complainers.” He said helmets
were not “cool.” He also said that he
was a careful driver and would never
be in an accident— if he could help it.
Unfortunately, he did not take into
account other drivers who were not so
careful.
On March 10, my brother was a
passenger on a motorcycle. My
brother was hit by a car that (alleg
edly) ran a stop sign. My brother flew
• over the car and hit the back of his
head on the curb. He was not w earing
a nclmet. Luckily a nurse saved ms
life by administering CPR. He was
knocked unconscious and has been in
a deep coma ever since.
The doctors tell us he might come
out of the coma eventually, but they
say he has a very slim chance of
leading a normal life. The extent of
damage will not be known until he
regains consciousness. All my family
can do is wail, and frankly, the wait
has been extremely painful.
1 thank Lynch because maybe now
some other family will be spared the
hardships and agony that mine faces
and will continue to face until my
brother’s condition improves.
Christine Allcrhciligcn
senior
English
I_
Editorials do not necessarily rc
fleet the views of the university, its
employees, the students or the Nit
Board of Regents.
The Daily Nebraskan's publishers
are the regents, who established the
UNI. Publications Board to supervise
the daily production of the paper.
According to policy set ny the
regents, responsibility for the edito
rial content of the newspaper ties
solely in the hands of its student edi
tors.
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SHtUJTO © ISSB^— -Z_
Everyone has some handicap
But the flaw of prejudice is more crippling than any other
Sometime before spring
break a friend and I were dis
cussing the letters on the
Daily Nebraskan editorial page that
denounced gays. They condemn
those they view as “subhuman,” writ
ing letters to the editor, publicly pub
lishing their prejudice and perpetuat
ing bigotry — oftentimes in the name
of God.
Here we arc at the University of
Nebraska-Lincoln, an institute of
higher learning that places great
emphasis on tolerating viewpoints
and lifestyles that differ from our
own. Almost funny, we thought, if it
weren’t so sad. These people exercis
ing in this perverse form of “Homo
phobic Olympics.” Too bad, my
friend and 1 agreed, that these extreme
forms of prejudice that people utilize
to cast out of the human race those
different from us.
1 waved off my friend and turned to
sec David, an acquaintance from my
high school days. To be honest, when
ever 1 saw David, I gave him little
more than the time of day. I didn’t
have time for him, his problem read
ily apparent with anyone to whom he
talked.
David is handicapped.
He’s not handicapped in the vis
ible way one imagines such a person
to be. He has no wheelchair. In fact,
my acquaintance with David goes
back to a roller-skating rink where he
was one of the best skaters. He could
skate circles around me, and I worked
there.
But when David talked, he spoke
slowly and without precision. It made
him sound dense, inarticulate, with
out much to say.
When you’re a cocky 15-year-old,
as I was at the time, you don’t take
people like David very seriously. I
didn’t perform overt forms of ridicule
toward him like others, but he wasn’t
like me or my friends. He was, in my
mind, less than human.
Now, nearly 10 years later, I’ve
grown up, but my attitudes toward
David haven’t. And we met once
again in the Nebraska Union.
“Hi John,” he drawled in his char
acteristic slow speech.
“Hi David,” 1 said. My vocal tone
toward him was the same as always:
foaming-at-thc-mouth friendly, but
patronizing and aloof. It’s the lone
reserved for those not taken seriously.
Much like one would talk loa 3-year
old who just recited the alphabet.
Normally, I give David a few
superficial words, “weather talk” I
call it, then scurry away. This day,
though, I sat down with him. Why, I
don’t know. Maybe I was just into
weather talk that day.
But David had more on his mind
than the weather. He was depressed.
“I want a girlfriend,” he said. “I
want a job, too.”
He struck a mutual chord. When
the first words from someone you’ve
categorized as subhuman are the very
thoughts you spend 90 percent of your
mental capacity pondering, you lake
note. In the 10 years I’ve known him,
he has never said anything dealing
with much substance. Maybe because
I never stuck around long enough to
listen.
Today, David was talking about
more than simply women and jobs.
He was analyzing why he had neither.
Hedidn’t say the word, but he knew it.
Prejudice.
My reasons for not having a job or
a meaningful romantic relationship
deal with problems that exist within
me. David’s problem lies not inside
him, but in others. It lies in prejudiced
people — people like me, who look at
those with handicaps as crippled
mentally as well as physically.
I wish others could’ve sat where I
did that day. They would have heard
a man with a speech impediment ar
ticulate himself flawlessly. The man
before me was sensitive and tradi
tional, yet non-chauvinistic in his
views about women. On relationship
roles he was very modem. He even
wanted to be a “Mr. Mom’’ for his kids
someday, should the situation war
rant it.
They would have heard a man
outlining his determination to work '
hard at a job, if only someone would
give him the chance.
They would have heard a man
who’d felt the pain of prejudice, a
pain that some of us will never know.
“People put me down so much I
can’t pick myself back up,” he told
me.
I know people who did that. I was
one of them. Perhaps directly in my
earlier years, certainly indirectly the
latter. He may never have known it,
but I did; I viewed him as a member of
a humanity just under mine. Not
explicitly, but implicitly.
In my mind he was mentally re
tarded. His speech seemed to indicate
this. After our talk I don’t know any
more. And it doesn’t matter anyway.
Better than any professor, David
gave me a refresher course in Human
Relations 101. That all humans, de
spite sex, creed, color or sex ual orien
tation, have their flaws.
“Everybody has a handicap,” he
said. “You have a handicap in you, I
have a handicap in me.”
Somehow I felt my handicap was
more crippling than his.
Coffey Is a senior political science major
and a Daily Nebraskan arts and entertain
ment reporter. 19
Reader: Legislature
can afford to fix door
About four months ago, I visited
the Nebraska State Capitol with some
out-of-town guests. I was shocked to
sec the door to the post office on the
first floor lorn from its hinges and
propped up against the opening. I told
my guests that we must have had a
break-in They accepted this.
A month later, I again visited the
Capitol, and 1 was even more dis
tressed to sec that the door has not
been repaired and is still propped up
against the opening. This is certainly
not a very secure situation for a post
office.
I was concerned for the image this
gives our fine Capitol Building
I realize that since ConAgra has
gotten both lectin the trough, there is
not enough lax money to take care of
ihc Commonwealth and State Sccu
r*ty depositors, as this is “adult”
money. I do feel, if our Legislature
Can a‘J°rd ?1 fj0*000 for new entrance
(Uw^an^gcncrou^alar^ncrcascs jj
for themselves, they certainly can I
I rnd $ 100 to install a new door at the ■
Capitol post office. p
Lester Christiansen l|
Lincoln m
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