Austin Seminary Women in the 80's

Once the thought occurred to me in 1980 that I might indeed have a call to enter the ministry, it took me the better part of three years to finally enroll. I believe now that there was at least one reason for my delay: my “image” of what a clergywoman was supposed to be. It wasn’t pretty. I had visions of never wearing makeup again, of living forever in sensible shoes, and an eternity of G-rated movies. Knowing myself as I did, I was hard-pressed to believe that God was calling me to such an ascetic life.

That was before I began to explore my sense of call with such role models as Cynthia Logan, Cynthia Campbell, Ilene Dunn and Judy Fletcher. I was not aware of many clergywomen at all, much less Presbyterian clergywomen, when I began seminary in 1983. Cynthia Campbell was the only female professor on campus. After being reassured that there would indeed be cosmetics, attractive shoes (which is a plus, given our affinity for Geneva gowns) and yes, the occasional glass of wine, I decided that there was indeed room for someone like me in the gospel ministry.

First-year women were few in number in the fall of 1983: Rene, Ann, Nancy, Ardith and me - was that it?! Our entering class was small in number: twenty-five or so. That meant that only about 20% of our class was female. Given that, I didn’t feel the least bit singled out or discriminated against in the classroom or on campus. We women had the feeling that the real “pioneers” had come before us, so we didn’t feel the need to fight too many gender-related battles. Far from being discouraged or singled out, my experience was that women students were welcomed and encouraged on a par with the men.

The campus infrastructure still didn’t know what to do with us, however. The only time I really felt strange about being a female seminary student was when the handful of us - along with Cynthia Campbell - were invited to take part in a tea for the seminary wives’ association in the fall of 1983. How little we had in common with that group! I wasn’t even a wife at the time, much less the wife of a student. The wives were nice enough to us, but weren’t terribly interested in discussing what we were experiencing in the classroom. I’m sure that we seemed equally as foreign to them.

One of the fun things about being among the first “numerous” women on campus was that we got to be part of some of the first “all-women” events. The planning was neither intentional nor exclusive; it just happened that way. Our trip to Central America in January 1987 was the first all-female-student January trip. In spring of 1985, I also found myself to be one of what Prescott Williams later called “The Seven Sisters.” As it so happened, seven women students (and no men!) signed up to take Prescott’s Hebrew Exegesis of Isaiah class. Though we took note of these two all-women gatherings, I must say that by 1985 such gatherings felt more routine than remarkable.

One exercise was indeed an intentional grouping of the women students. In the spring of 1987, one class required that all seniors write their own statement of belief as well as take part in a group creed-writing exercise. The only caveat of the group exercise was that all group members must agree on all statements of the creed. Professors Cynthia Campbell and Prescott Williams presented for class vote two different groupings of students. One was a more random grouping; but we voted to take the more deliberate grouping, which one of my classmates labeled as “the smart ones, the women, the conservatives, and everyone else.”

As I recall, the women didn’t seem particularly thrilled about being singled out in this way. I think most of us would have preferred to be in blended groups. But we decided to make lemonade out of the situation, and it turned out to be great fun. Perhaps the main thing I learned (or had reinforced) is how diverse we women students were. Biology didn’t necessarily create unity. In the end, we were rather pleased with the distinctively feminine flavor of our statement of faith.

I wish I could say that our particular group of women students had been the force behind some impressive change around campus, or that we had fostered reforms in some way. But we didn’t. In my experience, the assimilation of women into the life of Austin Seminary was slow and steady, unremarkable but definitely there. In fact, we were FAR more welcomed, included, nurtured, and accepted in the seminary community than in some instances in the “real world.”

When I began interviewing with churches at the end of my senior year, one search committee asked me with a sneer if I could moderate a Session meeting. Realizing that my future with this particular committee was limited, I told them a better question was whether I was willing to moderate their Session.

In retrospect, however, I wouldn’t call the atmosphere of Austin Seminary an “ivory tower” for women students. Having absorbed from seminary the notion that male-female differences were a non-issue, I have been able to treat it as a non-issue with the various congregations I’ve served over the last 20 years. Instead of training me to be a “woman minister,” I’m grateful that Austin taught me to be the best minister that I could be - one that happens to be a woman, and who gratefully brings those gifts and differences to the ministry.