R-MWC in retrospect

Jenny and I on the day I moved in.

Jenny Baird, as she was then called, graduated from Randolph-Macon Woman’s College in May 1999. She, the world-wise older sister, regaled me, the excitable middle schooler, with tales of her college. At age 11, I was amazed that this small college had a creative writing major, a study abroad program in England, and—this was the icing on the cake—horses! I’m now neither a Creative Writing major nor a horseback rider (though I did make it to England), yet at Macon, in the one year that I did attend Macon, I found something even greater.

Reena and I as first-years, Day II of the strike.

As a senior in high school, I was plagued with a crippling mental affliction: I hated women. I saw women as the older versions of the stuck up, bitchy, rude, and mean girls at my high school, and therefore not worth my time. I also hated being a woman, and hated the role in life that, according some traditionalists with whom I surrounded myself, I was supposed to play. Luckily I had an older sister, and she helped keep that ray of hope that women might one day be redeemable in my eyes. Along with her tales of horses, writing, and England, Jenny inspired me to follow in her mature, intelligent, and caring footsteps and was in my eyes what I later learned had a name here: a Randolph-Macon Woman. I told myself that if Jenny could go to a woman’s college and enjoy it, there must be something that female companionship had to offer; I should give women a chance, and R-MWC was the right place to do it.

Jenny was, consequentially, the first person I called after I’d made my final decision. The conversation went something like this:

“Jenny, I know where I’m going for college.”

“Katherine, that’s wonderful!” There was a pause. “So, if you go, you’ll be graduating in 2010?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You’ll be an even, then.”

“I guess I will, yea.”

“You know I was an odd, right?”

A pause. “I think that might be a problem, Jenny.”

I hadn’t even arrived and already I felt like I had an identity at Macon. But being here was an experience that I never expected. Within the first week, I had more female friends than I’d ever had in my life. There was something about being surrounded by women and hearing about women and thinking about women that helped me see how amazing and strong women really are. It helped me love being a woman, to stand up for and respect myself more than I ever had before. I discovered that the value of single sex education was more than classroom-deep, and that this place was more than just a college. Thanks to R-MWC, I have learned to proudfully define myself not only as a Classicist, a writer, a traveller… but also as a woman. And I will forever strive to achieve that highest accolade of respectability, maturity, womanliness, and class: the title of a Randolph-Macon Woman.

Submitted to the Sundial campus paper in response to a prompt asking seniors for articles answering the question "What does R-MWC mean to you?"