Photo by Carlos Aristizabal
The campus of my alma mater is small. Located on Manhattan’s Upper West Side between 116th and 120th Street on Broadway, its entrance is framed by a wrought iron gate welcoming the women who enter into a serene space that contradicts New York City’s hectic vibe. Female empowerment is steeped in Barnard College’s 134-year history, producing graduates like Martha Stewart, Joan Collins and Twyla Tharp.
Which is why my class, the Class of 1992, was stoked to learn that Bill Clinton — who at the time had just been named the Democratic presidential candidate — would be the keynote speaker come graduation.
Excited chatter permeated the college in anticipation of the event. What would he say? Would there be Secret Service agents on campus? Would Hillary be with him? Young women on the brink of becoming astrophysicists, playwrights and teachers could not stop speculating. Despite the controversies that had surrounded him, having Clinton speak at one’s commencement was a pretty big deal.
Then the letter arrived.
It was short and to the point, announcing that Clinton had been replaced by an even more exceptional speaker:
Millicent C. McIntosh.
“Who?” we all said, scratching our collective, now-very-dispirited heads.
It went on to explain that McIntosh, then 94 years old, would be doing the honors instead.
As the school’s first president (elected in 1952) and mother of five, she navigated both professional and personal success at a time when women were expected to choose one or the other, at best. To us, she was just a person for which the school’s student center was named.
Disappointment dove in headfirst, flushing out excitement in a flash.
“What?!” my sisters and I cried out. “A little old lady in the stead of possibly the next president of the United States?”
The warm June day arrived, and parents cramped into the school’s tidy front lawn to watch their daughters receive their diplomas.
But first, Mrs. McIntosh spoke.
She appeared frail making her way to the podium. But once she began, the wisdom of her many years poured out. She may have not had the trademark charisma of Bill, but she certainly had the acumen nine decades of living generates. Among the many insights she gifted the Class of 1992 that day, one has resonated with me the most: It’s not just what you know, it’s who you know.
As a youthful 21-year-old, I couldn’t grasp how much truth is held in that simple phrase. It was only years later, after countless connections (many with other women reaching out doing the same) that I truly appreciated the power of those words.
Mrs. McIntosh may not have had the allure of Clinton, who as we know, went on to become President Clinton. Her appearance that day certainly did not cause much of a stir outside those wrought iron gates. But her words and her message stayed with me, serving as a quiet yet powerful tool that has helped me become the woman I am today, as well as a worthy lesson that oftentimes, when one least expects it, a silver lining awaits.
Happy Reading,
Alona Abbady Martinez
alona@bocaratonobserver.com