I feel compelled to share my story about pantsuits. My mother was an extraordinary woman, blessed with both beauty and talent. Achieving Valedictorian at just 16, she aspired to pursue higher education, but her family’s financial priorities led her to secretarial school instead. Despite her dreams, she became a professional actress but chose to return to Delaware when she embraced motherhood. Once my sister and I were both in school full-time, she took on the role of executive secretary for the Delaware State Arts Council during its inaugural year, working in the heart of Wilmington.
One chilly February afternoon, my father came to take her to lunch. When she rose from her desk, she proudly wore a pantsuit—definitely not a skirt. In that moment, he turned and walked away, refusing to be seen with a woman in slacks.
This memory lingers with me, and I can still recall the look on her face as she recounted that story. No one can shame me for embracing pantsuits. Today, two of my sons and my eldest daughter have already cast their votes for Hillary, and my husband and I will do the same on Tuesday. Finally, it feels like a victory.
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In summary, my mother’s experience with pantsuits reflects a broader narrative of empowerment and choice, one that resonates deeply with our current cultural landscape. As we navigate our own paths, we carry forward the lessons learned from those before us.