Hello Nar,
Not so much denied access, really, as come face to face with lingering assumptions and culural habits. Bear with a little tale of autobiography, if you will.
The day I defended my dissertation was the first day I developed morning sickness with my first pregnancy. This is the most formal, rigorous examination in academe and can make or break the entire career process. 'Morning' is a misnomer; it can occur any time.
My advisor knew and graciously told me to leave at any time should I need to, without explanation, and also gave me leave to nibble on dry crackers. Yet not all the examination committee knew this. One in particular, after I had left the room for the committee's deliberations, objected to my "eating" during the exam. My advisor, after the vote, explained why I was nibbling on the crackers.
The committee exited the examination room, walked passed me without saying a word--not even telling if I had passed--to shake my husband's hand, who had been allowed to attend the defense (as I had been allowed to attend his).
The behaviour of these examiners is all the more ironic given their support of me in the defense. I had been challenged by one who questioned how I could discuss a female author in the same breath as Augustine and Coleridge. My reply of "Why not?" was met with hostility and I was told that it was not my place to pose the questions. These same men who rushed to congratulate my husband--not even me--on our impending family had supported my querilous reply by deflecting his retort.
Every time I read Carpenter on Tolkien's love of his club discussions and every time I read of Goldberry's discrete withdrawal, I think of the loss of 'her' contribution to that scene with Tom and the hobbits and I wish that Tolkien had been able to see his way through to extending the archetypes just a little farther.
Bethberry
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I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.
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