The New Feminism on Main Street

How far, how deep run the currents of women's new consciousness in the U.S.? TIME Reporter-Researcher Marguerite Michaels visited Red Oak, Iowa. Her report:

RED OAK lies in the furrowed hills of southwestern Iowa, a farming and industrial community of 6,210 people, 19 churches, five public parks and two nursing homes. It has the third largest swimming pool in the state and boasts a Holiday Inn. As in most small towns, the social geography follows the contour of the land. In Red Oak, the rigid distinctions between "The Hill" and "The Flats" have just begun to be blurred by the subdivisions housing the middle-class managers of the new industries.

Mention the words "Women's Liberation" and the reaction is immediately negative. Said one woman: "That means you're waving the red flag of liberalism." Still, the new consciousness has touched the town, perhaps changed it slightly. The Union Carbide factory has opened all its job categories to women. When the men gather over their coffee in the doughnut shop on the square, they no longer criticize married women for working. Retired Assistant Postmaster Gordon Will notes: 'They used to say, 'What does she think she's doing out of the house?' You don't hear them talk like that any more." Though there is little feminist rhetoric in Red Oak, issues are discussed in the bridge clubs and beauty parlors. Few women said they opposed abortion; equal pay for equal work is an accepted axiom. In principle, most women say they would send their children to a good day-care center; in practice, a child-care center opened last year--and soon closed for lack of customers.

In Red Oak, "this Women's Lib thing" filters in through television and newspapers. The library has copies of Simone de Beauvoir's Second Sex and Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique on its shelves, but not Kate Millett's Sexual Politics or Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch. The crisp explanation from Librarian Jeannette Winter: "I'll get them as soon as three people ask for them."

Among the library's likely customers are women of disparate interests and backgrounds: young wives, working women, farm women, members of the Red Oak aristocracy. The largest group of feminists is made up of young wives and mothers. Some are outspoken, by Red Oak standards. Debbie Bulkeley, 30, flatly states: "I identify with Women's Lib. I watch one of those women on Johnny Carson and I think, That's me.' Then I get up the next day, feed the kids and clean house and it wears off. Still it makes me so mad to be always Mrs. Richard Bulkeley. I don't have a first name of my own. I'm a person too. I wouldn't want to be called Women's Lib, though. That's going too far." One woman reports snubs from neighbors for expressing similar feminist viewpoints.

Red Oak's only card-carrying feminist is N.O.W. Member Elizabeth Richards, 59. A Radcliffe graduate, the wife of a lawyer and a member of one of Red Oak's oldest, wealthiest families, she joined N.O.W. "as soon as they opened up their membership."

Forays into Democratic politics--including an unsuccessful race for the state legislature--sparked her feminism. Says she: "The women's movement has made me more content with my lot. I know I'm not the only one who's complaining; I'm not nuts." Norma Johnson, 37, snares the frustration over the banality of small-town social life with Sinclair Lewis' Main Street rebel, Carol Kennicott. She has spent eight years in night classes working toward her bachelor's and master's degrees. "I got to be age 30 and thought, 'Is this all there is--the bridge and socials and on and on?' I went back to school. I got a lot of cracks from the neighbors. They'd say, 'And what are you going to do with your children while you go to school?' I told one lady, 'Why, of course, I'm going to neglect them.' That stopped the conversation."

Mr. and Mrs. Ross Davis are perhaps typical of the resistance to Women's Lib in Red Oak by both men and women. "When my husband married me he said, 'I'm Ross the Boss and don't ever forget it,' " says Mrs. Davis. Insurance Salesman Ross Davis adds: "I believe in Women's Liberation. I think my wife should do whatever she wants--as long as she asks my permission." Many Red Oak women agree with Doctor's Wife Jane Smith: "A woman's place is in the home taking care of her children. If a woman gets bored with the housework, there are plenty of organizations she can join."

A few miles outside Red Oak, Connie Bolton, 39, laughs about Women's Liberation: "I'm in partnership with my husband." The Boltons run a 160-acre farm together. "I can't imagine getting a job somewhere. Every time I leave home, some of the animals get out. Who do you think chases them? The liberated woman." Charlotte Lamb, 34, a divorcee, was supporting her two sons by working as a secretary. Last month she was promoted to personnel manager. Only one man congratulated her; others made derogatory remarks. Says Lamb: "I hope I never go through a day like that again. I didn't expect that kind of reaction. I was so depressed."

Feminism's future in Red Oak lies, of course, in its women of the future. High School Senior Rachel Hays is a cheerleader, and in Red Oak, cheerleaders--once the summa of girlish status--are becoming passe. Says Rachel: "They're having trouble scraping up enough girls in the class behind us." Her goal: "I think what I'd really like is to marry a millionaire." She is quickly corrected by Sarah McKenzie, a member of the junior class that has failed to produce enough cheerleaders: "Don't say 'I'm going to marry a millionaire.' Be one. Say Tm going to be a millionaire.'"

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