I have a pantsuit tale to share. My mother, a stunningly talented woman, graduated as Valedictorian at the tender age of 16. However, her dreams of college were deferred as her brother was prioritized for funds. Instead, she attended secretarial school and became a professional actress. Yet, when the time came to embrace motherhood, she returned to Delaware. Once my sister and I were both off to school full time, she re-entered the workforce as the executive secretary for the newly formed Delaware State Arts Council, right in downtown Wilmington.
One frigid February afternoon, my dad swung by to take her to lunch. As she stood up, proudly donning a pantsuit, he turned on his heel and left. He simply couldn’t be seen with a woman in slacks. This was ages ago, but I can still picture her expression when she recounted that moment—an indelible mix of disbelief and defiance.
Years later, I find myself standing firm in my own choices. No one will shame me for wearing pantsuits. My husband and I, along with two of our sons and our oldest daughter, have already cast our votes for Hillary. Finally.
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In summary, my mother’s journey reflects the strength and resilience of women who defy convention. Pantsuits are symbols of empowerment, and I’m proud to continue that legacy.