[Congressional Record Volume 143, Number 135 (Thursday, October 2, 1997)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page E1897]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                      A TRIBUTE TO JESSICA KOZLOV

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                            HON. JIM SAXTON

                             of new jersey

                    in the house of representatives

                      Tuesday, September 30, 1997

  Mr. SAXTON. Mr. Speaker, recently a friend, a proud father, sent me 
an article his daughter authored. It seems to me that Jessica Kozlov, 
editor of Duke University's, the Chronicle, clearly articulates 
important and deep thoughts that are part of her developing being. I'd 
like to share them for the record.

                  [From the Chronicle, Sept. 16, 1997]

       Housewives Place in Society Minimized by Feminist Movement

                          (By Jessica Kozlov)

       June Cleaver is as anachronistic in the '90s as Peg Bundy 
     would have been in the '50s.
       It is because feminism has begun to dictate those 
     accomplishments of a woman that can be deemed ``merit-
     worthy''--and June Cleaver no longer fits that model? Or is 
     it because women have become so obsessively wrapped up in 
     breaking the glass ceiling that they have forgotten she ever 
     existed?
       In a society that encourages women to be men in the 
     workplace and mere nannies in the home, the triumphs and 
     rewards of being a ``house mom'' have been overshadowed by 
     the honor of being the division president of a company or by 
     the esteem earned from climbing the corporate ladder. I am an 
     anachronism in my own society, but only because of my mother: 
     She was June Cleaver, and the only one in my neighborhood.
       My family could be considered an atypical nuclear family: 
     two parents, two children and a German shepherd named 
     Abigail. All under one roof.
       Dad went to work every day. Mom stayed home, packed our 
     lunch and waited for the school nurse to call with an update 
     of my newest illness. She was always there to retrieve me, 
     teary eyed, from the school office-and because of that, I am 
     different.
       I came from a town where au pairs were the norm and 
     housemoms a foreign concept. I remember afternoons at my 
     friends' homes, eating after-school snacks served by 
     babysitters who didn't speak English and cared only about 
     their boyfriends back home in Italy or France.
       My mother put her career on hiatus when I was born--a 21-
     year hiatus, and counting. The most important thing to her 
     was raising her children, and for her, it was a full-time 
     job. The result: My friends wanted to be career women when 
     they grew up, and I just wanted to be Miss Piggy.
       But 21 years have passed since my mom made that decision, 
     and society is different. My mother was a product of the June 
     Cleaver era, but my generation is the product of an era that 
     began with ``Working Girl'' and has yet to peak.
       Our society no longer admires the woman who chooses her 
     family over her career. Feminism's quest to shatter the glass 
     ceiling began as a valiant, admirable effort--and it has 
     almost achieved its tangible goal. But in its path it has 
     left a track of shattered values, misdirected esteem and 
     latch-key children. The feminist movement has taken great 
     strides in the past few decades: An increasing number of 
     women are playing major roles in today's corporate world, and 
     we are rapidly achieving a ``genderless'' workplace. Women 
     themselves have completed a 180-degree rotation-from the 
     homemaker to the working girl. That which we respect and 
     strive for as women--and as society as a whole--has also 
     completed that rotation.
       In changing the perspective from which we define our 
     values, we have changed our accomplishments to parallel those 
     values. In other words, because a powerful movement valued 
     gender equality in the workplace, women strive to achieve 
     that equality.
       Undermining the importance of gender equality is not my 
     intention. Indeed, women have come a long way and should 
     strive to maintain the gain already earned. But we must not 
     lose sight of--or minimize--the reward we once experienced, 
     be it personal or external, from raising our own children. 
     The success that accompanies raising a child--in the eyes of 
     many members of society--is no longer equivalent to the 
     success that accompanies climbing the corporate ladder.
       Now here we are at the third-ranked school in the nation, 
     attending class after class. And for the first time, maybe 
     learning just how much we don't know. We are here because we 
     strive for the best--to be the best and to do the best. And 
     we are immersed in an environment that fosters those 
     intentions.
       As I sit here in The Chronicle office enjoying the end of 
     one of my many 18-hour days, I realize I have the genes of 
     the quintessential workaholic.
       Not long from now I will once again ask myself what I want 
     to be when I grow up--and the answer will be much more 
     difficult than it was in the days when Miss Piggy was my 
     hero. A career is certainly a priority, and it is to that end 
     that I have been trained to think.
       Logically, I know I would appreciate the opportunity to 
     stay home with my children--to raise children who will have 
     the benefit of a childhood experience similar to mine and to 
     promote their ability to grow up and contribute to the wealth 
     of knowledge and the pool of successful individuals; to put 
     down the reins of this parade of all-nighters and end the 
     days endured on pure adrenaline highs.
       I hope in today's society, in which the working woman is 
     valued over the homemaker, I'll have the courage to follow my 
     values as I have defined them and not follow what society has 
     proscribed for me, just as my mother would have done.

     

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