By chance, two different people have spoken to me recently about their late mothers, who experienced difficulties in following their chosen career when they were young. One of those women was born in the 1920s, the other in the 1930s. One was a doctor, the other a musician.
The doctor was a high-achieving medical student who won several medals upon graduation, but was not allowed to attend the graduation dinner because she was female.
The other was a gifted musician who wanted to be a concert pianist but also wanted to marry her sweetheart, who was also a musician. She thought that if she really aspired to become a concert pianist, she must remain single. If she married and had a family, that would mean giving up her dreams of a concert career. She realised (or felt) she couldn’t have both and agonised over the choice. In the end, she chose marriage and children. Her husband continued with his musical career and became a highly respected professional. Nobody – not even his wife – expected him to choose between parenthood and a career. Of course, this was normal at the time. There’s nothing unusual about these stories, though the people who told them to me were rueful on their mothers’ behalf as they looked back.
When I hear these tales, I can’t help thinking about the female pianists in my book Women and the Piano. If it is so hard to think oneself into the attitudes of the generation before mine, how much harder must it be to understand the social attitudes which women had to contend with 100 or 200 years ago? The dreams they had to swallow. The things they had to accept, the things they knew they could never change. The expressions on people’s faces as they reacted to news that a young women wanted to do this or that. We would probably be shocked if we could suddenly be back there, seeing the world as those women had to see it.
As a young doctor I was told in 1977 I could not become a surgeon because I was female, so the prejudice had not ceased by then! Also, told I had the hands (a pianist) and the brain but was just the wrong sex. Very frustrating and disappointing!
Anne, what a striking reminiscence! I’m surprised to hear this attitude still persisted in 1977 because by then, the 1975 Sex Discrimination Act had become law, hadn’t it, so it would have been technically illegal for anyone to tell you that you couldn’t be a surgeon because you were ‘just the wrong sex’. Your experience is frustrating indeed.
So true!!!
I am now one of those of an “older generation” soon to be 84.
As a child of 11 or 12, soon to enter high school, I loved animals and wanted to be a veterinarian–either that or a doctor (preferably a surgeon).
But I was discouraged (forbidden?) from studying the sciences, which would have been necessary to train for either of those two options.
A deep regret held fast to this day, although my alternate choice (linguistics) was not a bad one, as I also had talent in that area.
My refugee parents were not equipped, either psychologically or ideologically, to fight for me with the educational “authorities” of the day.
Thank you Nan for these reflections. Your observation about your parents is very touching.
When I was at school, I dimly remember that the only careers advice we had was along the lines of ‘suitable careers for girls would be secretary, nurse or teacher … that is, if you aren’t getting married.’ It’s amazing that so many of my contemporaries defied this advice and went into interesting careers. Of course, we were of a different generation than our schoolteachers.
I was very lucky to be trained by Professor Carys Bannister (1935-2010), only the second female consultant neurosurgeon to be appointed in the UK. Diana Beck was the first (appointed to the Royal Free in 1943).
Carys was also a music lover and it was a joy to share these two most important passions, medicine and music, with this great lady.
I’m happy to say that during my career I was involved in the training and appointment of several brilliant young women who are now NHS consultant neurosurgeons. The specialty and medicine more generally are all the better for it.
Thank you for contributing this reminiscence, David – good to be told of these important female surgeons.