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Tammy Baldwin, a Smith College alumna and the first
woman to serve in the House of Representatives from her native Wisconsin, was the
speaker at Smith’s 131st commencement ceremony Sunday, May 17.
President Christ, members of the faculty, parents, and
especially the graduates.... It’s wonderful to be here this morning surrounded
by so many incredible women. It’s especially exciting for me to be here with
my class for our 25th reunion. My classmates are not only some of my best friends.
They were -- and are still -- some of my role models.
My bio says I won my first campaign for public office
when I was 24 years old. But my classmates always remind me that’s not completely
true. My first campaign was right here at Smith when I ran for president of my house.
I felt confident. I had passionately followed politics for years. And, not only was
it my house, it was called Baldwin House.
Needless to say, I lost. But, I learned my lesson. I’ve
never run another campaign against a Smithie. And I’ve never lost another election.
For the graduates, this may be the first time that you’ve
thought of yourself as being part of a much larger community of Smith women. Perhaps
watching the alumnae walk by yesterday, you felt what I felt 25 years ago. Amazement.
Awe. Where do these incredible women come from? When did they get to be so impressive?
Now that I am on the other side of that age gap, I’m
going to let you in on a secret. We are the ones who are amazed. We are the ones
who are in awe. We look out at all of you talented, confident, beautiful women, and
we can’t help but be excited about what you will accomplish.
I’m also reminded of what another Smith alumna,
the author Madeleine L’Engle wrote. “We can't take any credit for our
talents,” she said. “It's how we use them that counts.”
For those of you who are worrying that this is going
to turn into a lecture about how you need to devote your lives to a higher purpose
....Don’t.
I already believe that your generation is more committed
to making a difference in the lives of others than any other in my lifetime.
Let me share a few thoughts today about where I hope
you can make a difference -- and about how you can use your abundant talents.
One of my favorite professors was Jim Henle. My first
class with him was “infinitesimal calculus.” I was a math major and
a pretty sharp student. In his class he did something that took me completely by
surprise.
He assigned us “insoluble problems” -- problems
with no solutions -- as homework. We weren’t expected to come up with
the answers. But we were expected to show some progress.
Professor Henle’s point was that by pushing against
the boundaries of what we knew, we could expand those boundaries. Of course, in the
back of our heads, a lot of us had another thought: that every problem starts out
as insoluble. Then somebody goes and cracks it.
I never figured out any of the problems. There’s
a reason I became a politician and not a mathematician. But as my career has progressed,
I’ve thought back to that class many times.
Far too often, our greatest challenges are portrayed
as insoluble problems. And our reaction is to throw up our hands, say “oh well,” and
go on to the next challenge. But history teaches us that even our biggest problems
have solutions. How do you calculate the area of a circle? How do you build a computer
for less than a million dollars? How do you govern without a King... or Queen? All
insoluble problems -- or so they seemed.
So today, I have an assignment for you. No matter what
you do in the years to come, devote part of your time to working on what looks right
now to be an insoluble problem. It will be challenging. It will be frustrating. You
may not see any progress for many years. But it may also be the greatest contribution
to the world you ever make.
Before this gets too abstract, let me give a very personal
example. A problem that has long seemed insoluble is the denial of equal rights to
millions of gay and lesbian people all around the world.
I came out when I was 21 years old -- first to myself,
then to my closest friends. The world was a lot different back then. So was Smith.
I still have a yearbook in which there is a photograph of the Smith College Lesbian
Alliance. The photo was intentionally blurred by the students so that you couldn’t
make out their faces. Even at Smith, in that era, they didn’t want anyone to
know who they were. But they did want everyone to know that they existed.
I can tell you about that fear. The fear of consequences -- in
class, at home, and on the job -- that fear influenced their decision to blur
the photo. Back then, I didn’t know much about the gay rights movement. There
weren’t many gay or lesbian role models. I had to go find them. So I started
reading about Stonewall, Elaine Noble and Harvey Milk. I discovered a history of
courageous people who took huge risks to gain a few more rights or change a few minds.
Some were on this campus. I also discovered a history of violence, discrimination,
and injustice.
When I graduated, I thought I might have to make a choice....
Between pursuing a career of my dreams or being honest about who I am. Between public
service or being myself in public.
I decided I had to take my own risk. So I did one of
the most terrifying things I’ve ever done. I gave an interview to my local
newspaper. And I told them I was a lesbian.
That spring, I was elected to the Dane County Board
of Supervisors -- anyway. In that same year, I attended an international conference
for gay and lesbian officeholders. There were 14 of us. They could get away with
calling it “international” because one Member of the British Parliament
attended. That was it. And it wasn’t clear to any of us that our numbers were
going to grow.
Today it looks like we have reached a tipping point.
That conference I attended is in its 25th year. Last year it was sponsored by Prudential
and Pacific Gas and Electric. More than 800 officials were invited. Here in Massachusetts,
some same sex couples are celebrating their fifth wedding anniversaries. And three
weeks ago, I led the House in passing the Matthew Shepard Hate Crimes Act.
How did we get from there to here? There’s no
easy-to-follow chain of causes-and-effects. It took protests, marches, vigils, late
night conversations over the kitchen table. It took brave young gay people coming
out to their families. It took brave young straight people standing up for their
friends. It took brave old people changing their minds. It took religious arguments,
political arguments, biological arguments, philosophical arguments. It took running
for office and filing lawsuits and lobbying government and walking down the street
holding hands. It took all this and much more.
I don’t want to dwell on history. What I want
to stress to you is that there was no “eureka” moment. There was no elegant
proof or simple formula. It took the constant application of pressure by people who
usually couldn’t even tell whether they were making a difference. This is what
it means to work on an insoluble problem.
The Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. said “the
arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” He used
it in many speeches, but the most famous time was in his speech in Montgomery after
the march from Selma.
Remember this was the third attempt to march. The first
time, they were attacked by the police with clubs and tear gas and had to turn back.
The second time, they were stopped by a judge’s order. The third time, they
finally made it all 54 miles to Montgomery where Dr. King gave his speech.
However, all they had accomplished was getting to Montgomery.
They hadn’t changed any laws. They hadn’t gotten any concessions. Jim
Crow was still the law of the land.
Today, we remember the march from Selma as a key turning
point in the civil rights struggle. This is how progress happens. You push and push
and push until you can’t push any more. Sometimes you are beaten back. But
in the end, that arc bends just slightly and the world is a better place.
Many of you know this history. I raise it today because
it is easy to forget that in the history books, we always know how the story ends.
Real life is different. We can’t see that far ahead. We don’t know what
the future brings.
It becomes easy to focus on problems that have clear
cut solutions. How do I get this job? How do I get this apartment? How do I pass
this bill? Avoiding the insoluble problems means saying that at best, we can do only
a little bit better. What a tragic pronouncement!
We can’t settle for a little better. We need to
take on the toughest insoluble problems -- including the problem I believe is
one of the greatest challenges of our time: global climate change.
I won’t assail you with statistics about carbon
dioxide levels on your graduation day; though levels may go up when you get your
diplomas and your parents finally exhale.
To me, the course of action seems obvious. Molly Ivins,
another Smith alumna, was famous for her “law of holes.” “When
you’re in a hole, stop digging.”
Polls tell us that Americans are highly concerned about
global warming. They also show that Americans aren’t
eager to act. They see climate change as an insoluble problem.
There is one statistic though, that gives me hope. When
Americans are asked whether we need “immediate, drastic” action on the
environment, people in your generation are more likely to say yes than people in
mine.
You can see this enthusiasm right here on this campus.
Whether it’s calling your representative to get more transportation funding...
or building a solar home... or calculating your school’s carbon footprint...
or operating a “bike kitchen”... many of you are already pushing in the
right direction.
We need you to do more. President Obama has said that
he can’t do it alone. We in Congress cannot do it alone. Whether we protect
our planet depends in large part on the actions of Americans who care about this
issue. Which means it depends in large part on you.
I’m not just talking to the environmental science
majors or the campus chapter of PIRG. What we need is a national transformation in
what we believe is possible. Which means it will take the combined force of billions
of small gestures. Buy a smaller car. Start a car pool. Ditch the car, get a bike.
Start a fluorescent light business. Urge Congress to act. Back candidates who share
your views. Run for office.
Yesterday, you marched behind the alumnae. But on this
issue, you will have to march ahead of us. I don’t mean to pile on just as
you’re preparing to take on all sorts of other new responsibilities. My generation
must also do its part. We all must.
In the end, our greatest obligation isn’t to each other. It is to the generations
of Americans and people all around the world who haven’t been born yet -- the
ones who will inhabit this planet long after we’re gone.
Poet Drew Dellinger captured this sentiment when he wrote:
“it’s 3:23 in the morning
and I’m awake
because my great great grandchildren
won’t let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?
surely you did something
when the seasons started failing?
as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with protest
when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once
you
knew?”
Climate change may be the most insoluble problem of
all. And yet, history teaches us that we can take these actions and make these sacrifices.
With the constant application of pressure, we can solve insoluble problems.
I was raised by my grandmother. She was born in 1906
before women had the right to vote. My grandmother always wanted to be an astronomer.
But the times dictated she learn to sew. “Nana” was an incredible artist
and seamstress. She made all of my clothes until junior high school. Then I recall
asking permission to buy a pair of blue jeans. Homemade jeans just couldn’t
compete with real Levis.
My grandmother was so proud when I graduated from Smith.
She was even prouder when I started my career in politics. Every time I appeared
in the newspaper, she clipped the article and saved it. She kept all of those clippings
in the drawer of the nightstand beside her bed.
The best part of running for Congress was that my grandmother,
at age 92, was able to vote for me and watch me get sworn in.
That nightstand of hers held many things that were special.
On top she had a photograph of my cousin and her first great-grandchild, Jennifer.
She would look at it before she went to sleep every night.
I don’t know what was going through her head in
those late night moments. I imagine she was thinking of everything that had changed
since she was born, about all the ways our country, for all its faults, had evolved
into a better, wiser, fairer place... about the great scientific discoveries... the
great wonders we’ve built... the great triumphs of justice.
She must have been marveling at what lay ahead for Jennifer.
Imagining the possibilities... not knowing exactly what would happen. But feeling
sure that those possibilities would be better, grander, and more plentiful than the
ones she had as a child so many years earlier.
We have solved insoluble problems in this country before.
I ask you to use your abundant talents to help us do it again. Whether you focus
on climate change, social injustice or some other challenge, I hope that you will
find your own barriers to push, your own difference to make, your own conventions
to topple. Don’t be discouraged. Have faith in progress even when you cannot
see it. Be the kind of leaders who inspire this faith in others.
But those problems can wait for another day. For now,
we all face a more urgent problem: Will I ever stop talking so that you can graduate
and go enjoy this day with your family and friends? Thankfully, this is a problem
with an easy solution.
Congratulations, Class of 2009!
You’re amazing! |
