Schroeder already had served 20 years in the House by that point and welcomed the reinforcements. Women had entered virtually all the major professions in great numbers, but still lagged way behind in the House and Senate. Schroeder was seen as an activist. When she first entered Congress and was in her early 30s with two young children, male lawmakers wondered what she could possibly be doing in their world. “I have a brain and a uterus, and they both work,” she quipped.
Schroeder retired in 1996, having made a national reputation with her quick wit and sharp retorts. She now heads the Association of American Publishers, and is a popular speaker on college campuses. March is Women’s History Month, a time to take stock, and Schroeder is not optimistic about the prospects for a woman president. Asked at a symposium at the University of Missouri, Kansas City, when the ultimate glass ceiling might be shattered, Schroeder said 2020 “at the earliest,” which would be 100 years after women got the right to vote. There were groans from the largely female audience.
But there could be an exception, Schroeder went on. What if President Bush puts Condoleezza Rice on the ticket in 2004? The groans changed to oohs and ahs. Some of the reaction was positive; some negative. Marie Wilson, who heads The White House Project, an effort to project women as leaders with an eye to electing a woman president, noted that Rice, while competent and authoritative, was not “warm as toast,” which voters demand from women politicians.
Until now, all the speculation about putting an African-American on the Republican ticket has centered around Colin Powell, America’s Prince Charming, no matter which party you’re in. I had heard Rice talked about as a possible gubernatorial candidate in California, or as a future NFL commissioner. She’s a sports nut, one of the reasons she gets along so well with Bush. But no one had ever mentioned her as part of the vice-presidential sweepstakes. On some levels, it would be an inspired choice. Nobody could question her credentials. And if the war against terrorism continues to go reasonably well, she could claim her share of credit.
Rice has been criticized in some quarters for having too narrow a focus. She was a Russia scholar before joining the administration. But as a vice-presidential candidate, she would only have to get through a single debate, and that shouldn’t be a problem for somebody who’s a quick study. Unlike Colin Powell, whose moderate impulses regularly invite clashes with the GOP’s right wing, Rice seems genuinely conservative. It’s hard to imagine her going on MTV and extolling condoms, for example, as Powell recently did.
The Bushes love Rice. When they head to Camp David for the weekend, she usually goes with them. She has no private life as far as anybody can tell and appears fully dedicated to her job. A Bush-Rice ticket would be a nightmare for Democrats because it would cut into two of their most loyal constituencies, women and African-Americans.
Of course, there is the small matter of Dick Cheney. When asked about his future some months ago, Cheney sounded like he meant it when he said he had no plans to leave the ticket. He added, of course, that he serves at the president’s pleasure. And it’s hard to imagine that Bush won’t use the vice-presidential slot as a way to set up the party’s presidential candidate for 2008. No matter how good Cheney’s ticker is, he is not in a position from a health standpoint to be a future GOP standard bearer.
Schroeder remains frustrated by the glacial pace of progress for women in politics. “I thought surely by the 21st century we’d have more than 62 women in the House and 13 senators,” she said. “This is evolving, and I guess I’m a revolutionary.” Since women make up more than half of the voting population, and women’s votes are courted by politicians, why is it, Schroeder wondered, women haven’t demanded their fair share of political power? “Women don’t feel entitled, and until we do, we’re not going to do much about it,” she said. “If women spent half what they spent on makeup last year on a candidate, we could have a woman in the White House.”
Schroeder made a brief run at the White House in 1988 before exiting in a flood of tears when she concluded she couldn’t raise the money to continue. Women’s groups criticized her for crying because it played into the stereotype that women are too emotional to be commander in chief. “I don’t want anybody’s finger on the button who doesn’t cry,” she says defiantly. Not that she claims women are smarter than men. “If we were, we wouldn’t wear clothes that fasten in the back, and high heels,” she quips. “What is our uptightness about this? I figure we can’t mess it up much more.”
During Schroeder’s years in Congress, the single topic that generated more mail than any other was her hair, much of it from women, and all of it critical. She remembers the woman who enclosed a check with the note, “Here, get it dyed on me.” Another coyly asked how she wore her hair “when you dress up.” “Does anybody write to Newt Gingrich and say, ‘Get it thinned-you look like a chrysanthemum.’ What is it that makes women so nervous about seeing women …?” Schroeder wondered.
What will it take to change women’s mindset? Hearing of a kindergarten class where the girls were already planning their weddings, Schroeder suggested encouraging them to plan their inaugurals instead.
