April 9, 2013--Mariam Chamberlain

An accomplished colleague, mentor, friend, Mariam Chamberlain, at 94, died last week.

Our first meeting is still fresh in my mind.

I came to the Ford Foundation as its third program officer responsible for women's studies grant-making. She was the first. Between us, Alison Bernstein served brilliantly.

When I was appointed, I though of it as either a cosmic mistake or at least ironic--a man is to be responsible for women's studies grant-making? Must be a mistake, I thought. The foundation leadership will straighten it out within a week or two. In the meantime, it seemed wise to lay low. This was back in 1991 and things such as women's and ethnic studies were appropriately fraught with identity striving and politics. The striving I could identify and deal with, but the politics? About that I was not so sure.

So when Dr. Chamberlain showed up unannounced at my office during my first few days of lying low, I was wary but happy to see her. She was a living legend. If she wasn't there to excoriate me for my arrogant acceptance of the women's studies assignment, maybe she would tell me that she was an emissary from the Ford senior leadership to tell me it had all been an error and was asked to help extract me from a complicated situation. She would assure me, I hoped, that everything would be all right and I would soon be able to focus my work on community colleges and the reform of public education. Things I knew about and was prepared to work hard at to make a difference. That was why I came to Ford in the first place, giving up a secure position at NYU to do so.

But, no, she was there to offer an historical overview of the field of women's studies and Ford's remarkable role in funding many aspects of its early manifestations. How, before her time at Ford, the field existed largely underground and under-regarded. It existed, was tolerated on a few campuses as a marginal part of universities' offerings, with staff and faculty offices literally and metaphorically in the basement.

Research itself about women's roles in history and culture was almost nonexistent, but now--and here is where she saw me coming into the picture--it was time for the powerful research of the previous decades, all that had to that point been incorporated in individual women's studies courses, this needed to be--she used this word--"mainstreamed." Hard-wired right into the regular curriculum.

So the basic course in the history of the Civil War should be expanded to incorporate what the research about women's roles she and Alison and Ford had supported over the decades had discovered. Courses in American literature should not just include a book or two by women writers, but rather a "gender perspective" should be applied to everything studied--from Hawthorne to Bellow.

And, she briefed me, it was time to invite men into the process. For example, the organization she had co-founded, the National  Council for Research On Women (NCROW) from its beginning had only female members and its board had been and was exclusively female. It was time, she felt, that men should be welcomed as members and invited to serve on its board.

"So," I asked, "why didn't you, why didn't Alison, why don't either or both of you make this case? Wouldn't that be more effective than having me go over there and . . .?"

"I understand,"Mariam reached out toward me. "I know it won't be easy for you.  But I hope you agree that this is the right thing to attempt to achieve." I nodded. I always have been an integrationist. "And, I am sure, you would also agree that this would be a difficult thing for us to do. If you need to, you can say that since the Ford Foundation believes in equity in all situations, it is time for a version of gender equity now when it comes to women's studies. And that the field, thanks to hundreds of women and some men, and of course the Ford Foundation, is strong enough to be more inclusive. First, as feminists as well as scholars, we needed to do a better job of including women of color--in the early days the field was almost exclusively made up of white women--and we needed to get comfortable with gay and ethnic studies.  We are doing better at this. Much better. But it is time to take the next step."

"I suppose that's right," I said with some nervousness since I knew where this was headed.

"And I'll do what I can to help."

I believed her. She did, though my time working at this was complicated, very complicated. But NCROW and equivalent organizations and institutions took steps to integrate.

While this was proceeding, I saw Mariam along the way at various meetings and events. She didn't need to ask how things were going. From her network, which included everyone, she knew and she knew how I was doing.

After about two years of this, one morning she was again at my office door. She said that she knew I was busy but had one word for me. Literally one word--"You're a mensch."

If that in any way was true, it was because of her. She is, was unique. A great force in a deceptively frail body. All of us, especially those who are her hundreds of lifelong colleagues, will never forget her and will always be eager to acknowledge that she changed our lives.