I’ve spent a lifetime listening to self-proclaimed feminists pontificating about how the world hates women.  And I’m a woman.

I grew up the youngest of three sisters with one brother.  My oldest sister gave me a “Sisters Unite” t-shirt, complete with raised clenched fist, that I lived in at age 8.  And when I was in college, my brother’s girlfriend gave me a “69 cents” t-shirt that I wore at least once a week.  My college roommate also referred to me as “Woman” because I insisted it was condescending for people to refer to us as girls at 18-plus years of age.

In graduate school, I pointed out to two of my professors that I felt there was some bias involved in providing older, single guys with teaching assistantships that put them on their own in classrooms, while some of us women were overlooked or given graduate assistantships pairing us with professors. 

I’ve witnessed or experienced bias all my life.  But I didn’t whine about it.

I simply spoke honestly when appropriate and went on to do the work, whatever it was.  And I tried to do it better, smarter and more completely, acting as a person first.

So the Geraldine Ferraro flap sent me over the edge.  I’ve been seeing for months whiney, self-righteous, bloviating statements and posts all over the Internet about how Hillary Clinton is so discriminated against.  Cry me a river!

This woman has floated along on her husband’s coattails.  Experienced!  Only if you give her credit for her husband’s years in office.  And what kind of “feminist” takes credit for her husband’s resume?  Shouldn’t she do it on her own? 

In reality, Clinton’s only served seven years in public office.  And her resume of “working for change” includes one year with the Children’s Defense Fund.  Most of her working life has been as a corporate attorney, and there are some questions of conflict of interest with that experience.  Yet the mainstream media has given her a pass on her resume and tout her “experience” versus a man with nearly 11 years service as an elected official, plus years of public service as a community organizer, civil rights attorney and teacher.

But because she’s a woman, other women refuse to look at her as a person and evaluate her more broadly.  I’ve seen post after post by Taylor Marsh, Kathleen Reardon and Roseanne Barr, among others, touting the knee-jerk reaction that everyone is a woman-hater.  Can they not comprehend that some of us are choosing to evaluate the candidates based their resumes, experience and skills?  That we’re evaluating them as people?  That perhaps Hillary being a Clinton is more of a detriment to her candidacy than the fact she’s a woman?

I’m tired of women who want to blame all their troubles on how someone else perceives their gender.  I’m a human being. 

I take this 2008 presidential race personally.  Yes, I have chosen to support Barack Obama with my time and money.  But let me tell you why.

In June 1998, my family and I came back to Iowa to visit my parents at their farm.  During that week, I drove my parents to Nebraska Methodist Hospital Oncology Center for their comprehensive check ups.  Mom, who was battling colon cancer, had now developed two tiny spots on her liver.  And Dad, who was a five-year survivor of pancreatic cancer, was holding his own, but barely.  The long-term outlook for both was not optimistic.

Later that week, my dad and I sat at the picnic table in the backyard talking about what would happen to the farm.  He shared his disappointment that Iowa had never developed the economic opportunities to keep his three daughters and one son closer to home.  He also mourned the loss of rural culture.  That conversation, Dad’s deep disappointment and cracking voice, have stayed with me.

A little more than a year later, Mom and Dad were gone.  We spent two years sorting out the estate.  My older sisters inherited 80 acres of farm ground, the land where Dad had grown up, now rented and farmed by our cousin.  My brother and I (the younger two) inherited the farm and house where we’d grown up.  My brother, who was best suited to live here and maintain the place, searched for employment, but ran straight up against all the economic factors Dad lamented.  So my husband, a special education teacher, found a job, and we moved almost two years after dad’s death.  I was not upset to leave my corporate job behind and concentrate on our kids, then ages one and 13.

I did not anticipate what happened next.  Six months after returning to the place of my birth, my neighbors approached me about becoming a write-in candidate for school board.  Knowing the abysmal turnout for school board elections, I said, “Sure.”  Much to my surprise, I won the election, and the work has been non-stop ever since.  (For the record, school board directors are not paid in Iowa.) 

In addition to taking on school board leadership, I ended up with leadership roles in my Methodist church and a historic preservation group.  The new work included:  starting an after-school program at the church, writing and administering grant dollars, helping our school district develop a vision, establishing 501(c)3 status for the preservation group, and on and on.  On top of this, my son entered and graduated high school and my daughter went from toddler to elementary school.

Behind it all, though, replaying in my brain was that conversation with Dad.  I had returned to this place I love, disappointed to see so little had changed in the 18 years I’d been gone.  Decline was the only change.  And I was surrounded by people discouraged and confused – too cynical or worn out to fight for change.  Many didn’t know where to begin.

Yet I returned at a good time.  A few stalwart leaders are building some things here:  exploring economic development, opening small businesses, and pooling resources.  We’re beginning to show people that, “Yes we can” make a difference, whether it’s picking up the neighborhood or reopening a park.  But it’s a battle every day to get people to work for change; to believe it’s possible. 

So it’s exciting to see a national leader, who has lived this same experience, speak this truth and ask us to believe in ourselves.  Because until we decide to make America a better nation and to work for it, nothing will change.