by: Marceline Donaldson
A friend of mine died on Sunday. The world is changing much too fast. Old friends are leaving, quietly. You hear nothing for a couple years and then the news comes that they have died. Keep your friends and family close. Before you know it, they will be gone.
Mary Daly died on Sunday. I first met Mary when I was at Harvard Business School. On a Sunday, I went to Memorial Church. No particular reason, that was what I did on Sundays. The preacher was Mary Daly. She preached a sermon I will never forget and at the end of it led a walk out to protest the patriarchy. – Almost everybody in Harvard Memorial Church that Sunday, walked out with her – me included. It was kind of like being in a shocked, unreal, dreamlike place. It was 1971 and the world was just waking up to what feminism and the women’s movement was all about.
I saw the picture of Mary Daly that the Boston Globe used over her obituary. It was probably the worst picture of her they could find. Choosing that picture said more about the Boston Globe than it did about Mary Daly. When I met Mary that Sunday, so many years ago, she was a young, very beautiful woman. I read Mary’s obituary in the Boston Globe. It said nothing about the Memorial Church walkout. It read as though what she did in life was to refuse to admit men to her classes at Boston College.
I spent the 1970’s protesting, reading Mary’s books, along with many more and waking up from my southern, feminine, shy self. I turned the ‘ne at the end of feminine into ‘st and have been doing my little bit to change a patriarchy that sometimes seems intransigent. Those who fought as hard as Mary Daly did, suffer the slings and arrows; the harsh judgments of their peers; the jealousy of those fighting alongside them; the rage of the patriarchy and more, but they have the freedom, the total internal freedom that comes with knowing who you are, of defining yourself; of not allowing this world and its institutional structures to dictate your sense of self-worth. That freedom is worth all the pain and agony which goes along with claiming it.
To Mary Daly – my deepest thanks for the incredible way you gave of yourself to bring about change from a baser way of living in this world to one in which me, my children and grandchildren can begin to heal from the burdens and abuses of the patriarchal system into which we were born.
Out of the depths of my despair, my frustration, my confusion, my feelings of being an alien where I live every day, breaks forth my realization of the incredible joy of being me – of understanding who that is – of not compromising my equality for anything or anyone – of becoming fierce and strong and proud of my femaleness. Stereotypes fall away, they lose their grip and I see through all the games being played against me. Games to diminish me; to bind me; to keep me from being all that i was born to be, all that my talents push me to be – how glorious is that freedom. May it keep its hold on me forever.
Amazingly, many of the things Mary Daly talked about I heard from my grandmother. She didn’t phrase them the same way and my grandmother would be appalled if anyone called her a feminist, but there she was. She talked about sin – if you are going to sin, sin boldly, she said. Always make your own living. You are a free, whole person – always remember that. There is nothing you can’t do. If one door closes, another door opens – only you have to be able to see the opening door and if you are crying over the door that closed in your face, you will surely miss the better one opening just a few feet away – and it isn’t going to sit there open for long, waiting until you arise from your self-pity, missy.
The world will miss a beautiful soul. God bless you Mary Daly. May your soul and the souls of the departed do glorious things together and be joyous in your new life in ways that were not possible on earth.
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