The Program in Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s StudiesCatherine Cunningham Mahoney had hard won confidence. She was a sharp dresser, a great dancer, and she knew how to write in squiggly characters that she alone could read (I later learned that this was stenography). She was very smart even though she was not highly educated. The child of immigrants who lost her mother at an early age, she was forced to leave school after the eighth grade. In her teens, she took courses in stenography (so she could get a job) and elocution (she wanted to speak without a New York accent). Despite her limited education, she knew more than most college graduates: she remained the family expert on grammar even after her own children surpassed her schooling. She was also a beautiful writer, the person we turned to when we needed help with a speech or an essay. She encouraged her children and grandchildren to go to college. Although she valued higher education, she had no time for people who put on airs. As if to deflate her own bourgeois ambitions, she named the fur she wore around her neck “George,” after the deceased family cat. She exuded kindness, but she also harbored a fierce competitive spirit. She taught us the song, “Anything you can do, I can do better,” and admonished us not to count on praise, reward, or recognition but to “take pride in a job well done.” In addition to making hard work look fun, she also shared life lessons, urging us to be disciplined and to “keep our wits about us.” Somehow, without a mother’s guidance but with the help of her sister, family, and friends she learned how to move through the world with ease. Classy and clever, in the best sense of that word, she embodied grace and confidence.
