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Grace’s obstacles were
women’s obstacles
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Opportunities denied because of her
gender
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| By Tom G. Kernaghan |
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| “Cooey” dear: |
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Take what life hath to offer you,
Good fortune or sad mischance;
Weigh out the good and use it well,
Then grin and bear the balance. |
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Love,
Muriel Allan
April 5, 1924 |
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Grace usually waited until bedtime to
cry; often she would cry herself to sleep. One time, however,
her young daughter Alison saw her break down in the kitchen.
It was 1953 and Grace’s attempt to reunite with her estranged
husband, George, had failed. The usually observant eyes
didn’t see that her girl, then nine, was peering through
the crack in the door, watching the tears Grace believed
were being shed in absolute solitude. One of the great
contradictions of her life was that while she often felt
alone in her battle against obstacles, she was in fact
always around people.
Many surrounded her, for example, during the Great Depression.
The mercilessness of that terrible decade is now common
knowledge. We know about the staggering unemployment,
the unrelenting western drought, and the general desperation.
What can be known about Grace’s personal struggle during
this period must be understood in the light of her family
dynamic prior to it.
Irene died of smallpox in 1907, before her first birthday.
Though Grace never knew her older sister, and though Irene’s
name was seldom mentioned in the house, the tragedy had
a profound impact on her. Irene’s ghost was present in
every importunate demand made of her by her parents. Those
demands, though motivated by love, placed Grace in a position
of constant attention. Much was expected of her because
of her intelligence, because of her surname, and because
she had lived. Many of her autograph book entries, like
the above poem, written by a lifelong friend, testify
to the strain she felt as a youth in a society showing
increasing consideration for women, but not outright equality.
On April 5, 1924, The Globe and Mail ran an advertisement
for women’s clothing store La Vogue (772 Yonge Street):
“Boyish Suits” for $16.95, with “slim, boyish lines.”
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Grace visiting family
property
Wychwood, in Cobourg, 1933.
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On that same night, Central Technical School was putting
on the opera of Gounod’s Faust. Even though Grace was
involved with such high school productions, she could
never fully hide her frustration over the obstacles that
frequently blocked her ambition in a changing urban society—a
Canada that, thanks to the “Famous Five” of 1927, recognized
that women were “qualified persons” and eligible for membership
in the Senate.
During her undergrad years, Grace was told that her shot
at architecture school had been denied to her because
of her gender. And years later, after opting for teachers’
college and then a job at a Galt school for girls, a job
she grew to love, she was told that the exigencies of
the Depression required her to give up her career. Grace
had also fallen in love with a good man, George Galbraith,
a handsome bank teller from Galt. But when the two were
married in June 1936, she was told she had to quit her
job: she had to make room for men.
Grace couldn’t help but bridle at this turn in a life
she’d spent preparing for independence, only to find a
glass ceiling that reflected back at her all the expectations
and pressures placed upon her by her family—and the hope
of a women’s movement that still lacked the power to smash
through the very glass that taunted her.
Cobourg beckoned. Her father, Herbert, had moved his firearms
plant there in 1929, and acquired a lakeside home he named
Wychwood (after his old neighbourhood in Toronto). He’d
also paid for Grace’s education, so she and George followed
the family. So did her memories of the Annex. Often, in
her quiet moments, she recalled the hours spent playing
jacks on the steps of Hillcrest Public School. But it
would be years before she taught school again. And before
her happy marriage crumbled under family pressure, she
would experience disappointment for which no woman can
really prepare. A tubular pregnancy left her unable to
bear children. But that didn’t stop her. As always, Grace
found another way. And years later, her own daughter would
return to the Annex.
Tom G. Kernaghan writes Through Grace’s Eyes, a monthly
column on Grace Eleanor Cooey, who was born and raised
in the Annex at the beginning of the 20th century.
(Through Grace's Eyes -- The Annex Gleaner -- March 2004 issue) |
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