Twenty-six years ago, I had dinner with Gloria Steinem.
Time will never erase our conversation. The immediate camaraderie, the deep sense of purpose we all felt that night in Lodi where we drank wine and chatted incessantly with the legend — the woman who fundamentally reshaped the modern landscape of what is called the Second Wave of feminism.
What I discovered that evening about this “staunch feminist” who proclaimed that night that she “never burned her bra,” as was the myth. Instead, we met a woman of extraordinary calm, candor and warmth. For that unforgettable evening, she was one of us. One of the girls.
Her passing on Sept. 2, peacefully at her home in New York City at the age of 92, was a jolt to me and so many others as we came of age with her inspired voice inside our heads.
What remains with me is not simply that I met Gloria Steinem, but how she made us feel: welcomed, understood and connected. And how her actions, her personal stamp of feminist advocacy lifted up a generation of women who today are standing up for what matters most-women’s rights, choice, pay equity, justice.
That second wave, with Gloria at the helm, ignited my thinking and thus my actions. I became engaged with the Commission on the Status of Women, marched for women, organized for women. And today, raised both my son and daughter to understand that equality of the sexes is a right not privilege.
That one short dinner was a culmination of what we knew of her work-in some ways we patterned our future selves by growing up with Gloria. For myself, Second Wave feminism was defined by my own personal journey. I was emboldened to not sit on a sideline or silent. I started Eleanor by Women United, built leadership conferences bringing together young and “established” women and always, always stood up for the rights of all women.
Gloria helped shape our thinking, my thinking. She shifted our perspective of how women were perceived and recognized. In the 70’s, my formative years, I read Ms. Magazine and watched Steinem on the news. I took notice. I had no idea at that time how much she would influence my path until decades later.
That lovely night, where our unforgettable night manifested itself, nestled in the comfort and light of the old Inn, I was working for Kaiser Permanente. We had launched a program called Celebration of Women’s Wellness. It was an annual leadership conference that we hosted and held at Lodi’s Hutchins Street Square featuring women of national prominence who would speak on stage, always before a sold-out crowd. It ran for twelve illustrious years.
But before each event, we hosted a dinner with the speakers. Through the years we invited many notable women leaders. There was Ann Richards, the hard charging and outspoken former governor of Texas; Mae Jemison, the first black female astronaut to reach space; Deborah Norville, former anchor for “Inside Edition” and co-host of “Today on NBC;” Olympic gold medalist and three-time world figure skating champion, Peggy Fleming; or the award-winning actress and mental health advocate Patty Duke. Each woman, accomplished in their own right was a joy to meet up close and personal.
But the night we met Gloria was different from the others. It was personal. It was powerful.
I have vivid memories of being uncharacteristically nervous, to the point of nausea knowing that I would be meeting someone of Gloria’s historical stature. A living legend in a field that held my heart. Women’s rights.
The knowing that I would be sharing a meal, seated next to her- a pioneering journalist and the icon of the modern American feminist movement who had fought for decades for gender equality and social justice was both exciting and nerve racking. After all, she was the co-founder of Ms. Magazine, she created the women’s action alliance and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
Would I show her photos of my beautiful children, talk about our advocacy efforts, did she like sports? Where to begin. Would she be wearing her signature aviator glasses? Would she be as stunning as photos had shown-as an article in Vogue coined Gloria Steinem the “most attractive activist in women’s lib.” What would she be thinking as she dropped into Lodi if for only 48 hours. Would she be memorable? Would we be memorable?
I exhaled to calm my nerves when I entered the room where our private dinner was being held. I immediately tried to recall how I might exchange those first few words with a woman who had eclipsed all of us with her bravery, but my mind went blank. I thought, shall I reference a quote from one of her books, “Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions,” or “Revolution From Within”? Or simply say, welcome.
Gloria, unlike the titles of her books, did not seem outrageous or rebellious at all. I had this image of her as being fierce, focused — almost warrior-like in her demeanor. She was anything but that. When that first encounter arrived, we shook hands. Her grip was light but firm; I was touching the hand of greatness. Gloria looked at you deeply, like you were the only person in the room, and she simply smiled and said hello and immediately thanked me for the invitation to join our “celebration.” She stood with me for what seemed like an eternity to simply talk about our event. No frills, no forced conversation she immediately pulled you in. Perhaps it was a result of her years of investigative journalism; she always led with questions.
She was gracious and thoughtful in a quiet and unconditional way. Disarming from the onset. She did not rush within our company and settled in by speaking with everyone in the room who were on the invite list for that small pre-event dinner. She never consumed the room with her public largeness-she was just one of the girls.
One of our guests, a young girl, happily, bouncingly approached Gloria, and introduced herself. No fear. She looked up at Gloria and proudly stated, “I read about you in my history books”. We held our breath with that comment, thinking that this 60-something woman might find that remark offensive, but she let out a loud and hearty laugh and sweetly expressed her thoughtfulness to the young girl. It was a surreal moment. Gloria had humility. Great humility.
Instantly we knew that Ms. Steinem embraced being in the company of women. After all, throughout her life — whether it was in the Manhattan apartment where she hosted hundreds of talking circles, or speaking across the globe — she listened intently. She had a glow about her; she had natural poise. She was kind. Everyone in the room felt that sense of mindfulness. It seemed like she rekindled in us the unwavering need for women to gather. For us to be unpretentious and to be simple and natural. To be our own unique selves. Unapologetically.
The conversation, in between the main course and dessert, was nonstop. Gloria had the ability to summon in all of us the need to talk, to ask questions, to ponder life to tell our own unique stories. All in the span of a three-hour dinner. She made us feel like we belonged, not just to the movement but to each other. That our work in our cities was important, that we were important. She never boasted about her work, the world leaders, presidents, celebrities she had met nor about her accomplishments, she stayed in the moment to learn about us.
The evening lingered, the conversations with Gloria and between each other were absorbing. It was an elbows on the table leaning into each other type of night. As the candles on the dinner table burned down and table guests slowly departed, a small group of us remained with Gloria. She would be the last in the room to leave.
Our dinner, at the beautiful Wine and Roses Inn, which made the experience all the better was capped off as her then-boyfriend, David Bale joined us late, unexpectedly. He had driven from L.A. to be with Gloria. I asked him, how did you meet Gloria? He thew his shoulders back and emphatically announced “I am a card-carrying member of the National Organization for Women,” charmingly adding “we met at the NOW conference.”
He called her his queen.
While David is possibly best known for being the father of the actor Christian Bale, Gloria and David would be married a year later in Oklahoma in a Native American wedding with Wilma Mankiller — the first woman elected as the Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation — as the conductor of the Cherokee and civil ceremony. She was 66 and it was her first marriage. They legally used the term “partners” for their vows. Sadly, David passed away from brain lymphoma in 2003, three years after their wedding. Gloria never remarried.
The Celebration of Women’s Wellness began the morning after our dinner. Gloria was to come onstage as our last speaker. She donned a one-piece black cat suit. Incredibly stylish I thought. She could pull it off. She was tall and slender, which she attributed to her lifelong yoga practice. Outside the conference center, protesters with hand drawn anti-feminist signs marched. A group of people who disliked Ms. Steinem for her stances on the feminist movement circled the block. She was used to such divergent thinkers. Security was tight.
As I sat on the sidelines of the theater looking out into the audience of over 800 women and men, the Honorable Judge Sandra Butler Smith, our Mistress of Ceremonies, introduced Ms. Steinem.
Gloria seemingly floated onto the stage; without hesitation, the audience erupted into a standing ovation before she even began to speak. Many stood up with their fists held high, a signature feminist gesture. These women had been raised amid feminism’s First and Second Waves. Gloria returned the favor with a reciprocal fist in unison with every woman in that room. No words, just a movement. For the movement.
It was magical. She was on stage for over an hour delivering her messages of hope, and compelling the audience to recognize that this is the time for women to be advocates for each other, to stay constant with our own local efforts to ensure that women would have the same, equal rights and justice across the globe and in our own communities.
I hold dear the photo of myself and Gloria Steinem at the conference — my singular piece of evidence that I had indeed met her. It is not just a snapshot of me with some celebrity speaker; it held far more meaning. It is an image of a point in time when my own trajectory in the fight and support of women, of all ages, diversity and faiths was at its height. Gloria was my cement. She bonded my faith in the potential for us all to be part of a movement. Not a loud and angry type, but a kinder, gentler and no less powerful version.
And 26 years later, my fight has not lost its glimmer. Her passing stunned me. I cried. I felt like I had lost a friend. Her 92 years in our world is a marvel to me. She gave up everything to ensure that women had rights, freedom and the ability to express their value. In the weeks leading up to her passing, Gloria recorded an episode of the Netflix docuseries “Famous Last Words.” It was her last interview.
I watched the interview at 2 AM in the dark, the only light in the room coming from my television. Watching her face, which did not seem worn for her years but luminous. Her eyes still catching the interviewer. Her characteristic eloquence and style were on display. Her dialog clear and concise. Her words were chosen for this moment. Age did not diminish her luster. She was the same Gloria that I had shared a glass of wine with at the turn of the century.
At that hour, I retrieved from my small library, the book she signed for me over two decades ago. I turned the yellowed pages of her biography, “The Education of a Woman.” On the front page she wrote: “To Kristen, with gratitude for a good day in Lodi. Gloria Steinem.” I cried again, in the dark.
As the end of the episode, she looked straight into the camera and made her last on-air remarks just weeks before her passing:
Hello you unique individuals out there…I wish I could meet each one of you in person, but in a way, this is what allows us now to see each other’s lives, to influence each other’s lives, to respect each other, and therefore, to perpetuate what we hope is a global democracy. Please feel free to respond in any way you can, and please tell your own story.
Gloria would require that from all of us. And she would remind us that “a feminist is anyone who recognized the equality and full humanity of women and men.”
So tell your own story. Because it matters.