Going Rogue: An American Life by Lynn Vincent, Sarah Palin Page A
Authors: Lynn Vincent, Sarah Palin
Tags: General, science, Contemporary, History, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Political, Biography, USA, Non-Fiction, Political Science, Politics, Women, Autobiography, alaska, History of the Americas, Memoirs, Biography And Autobiography, Women Politicians, Sarah, Vice-Presidential candidates - United States, Women governors, 21st century history: from c 2000 -, Autobiography: General, Women politicians - United States, Palin, Vice-Presidential candidates, Central government, Republican Party (U.S.: 1854- ), Governors - Alaska, Alaska - Politics and government, Conservatives - Women - United States, U.S. - Contemporary Politics
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course, no one else did either because we had had only one chief in our entire history. Bur I was well within my aurhority to fire him-his posirion was an at-will political appointment. Still, he sued. He claimed sexual discriminarion. He said in rhe suit that I musr have been intimidated by him because he was a big powerful male and I was a woman, and he couldn’t help that, so it was “wrongful rermination.”
I told our city atrorney, “Give me a break. I’ve been living in a
‘man’s world’ all my life-when I hunt, when I’m on a commercial fishing boat, when I was reporring sports from men’s locker rooms.” I was no stranger to these bastions of masculinity. It took almost three years to defend against that lawsuit, but in the end a judge agreed with me.
When I ran
reelection, John Stein again challenged me for
the job. In one debate, Stein referred to me as a “cheerleader” and a “Spice Girl.”
A cheerleader? I thought. Come on, don’t insult cheerleaders like that. I was just a jock and I couldn’t hold a candle to rheir pep and coordination.
“At least get ir right;’ I laughed when it was my turn to respond. “Call me ‘Sporry Spice’!”
• 79
•
SARAH
PALIN
I thought the whole thing was hilarious because a TV station was covering the debate and I knew that his sexist remark would play to my advantage. (As Napoleon said, “Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.”) A young female reporter, brand new to Alaska, caught Stein’s “Spice Girl” comment.
“I can’t believe what that candidate just said about you!” she rold me, appalled and sympathetic.
I shook my head in a “can you believe whar we women have ro put up with?” way and milked it for all it was worth. “I know, I know,” I said. “But you just have ro rise above all that and plow through! Look, we have ro work twice as hard ro prove we’re half as capable as men think they are.”
Then I gave her a wink and whispered the old familiar punchline, “Thankfully, it’s not thar difficult.” I won the election with about 75 percent of the vote in a threeway race. In my second tetm, I had the honor of setving my peers from around the state as president of the Alaska Conference of Mayors. In that position, I led dozens of other mayors in dealing with statewide issues, such as municipal revenue sharing and advocating for local control of government. I loved being able to help other communities, and it allowed me ro expand my contacts around the state.
4
So often in life, the first hint of tragedy artives with a phone call. Early in the morning of September 11, 2001, our police department called me at home to tell me ro turn on the news. Thousands of miles away, at the epicentet of our country’s financial markets, the World Ttade Center atrocity unfolded before our eyes. Surreal reports continued: The Pentagon had been hit. A plane had crashed in a Pennsylvania field. For the first time in hisrory, the Federal Aviation Administration had ordered every plane out of the sky.
.
80
•
Going Rogue
Like all Americans, Alaskans wondered where the terrorists would strike next. The terrorists had struck at our military and financial center, and had meant to hit another seat of power in Washington. Officials thought the Trans-Alaska Pipeline could be on the list of possible targets. In Anchorage, the Air Force scrambled fighter jets, while FAA air traffic controllers frantically tried to make contact with at least one foreign jet still in the air out of communication with towers. In Wasilla, I monitored the early-morning events from my office as we prepared the Valley’s public safety building as an emergency center. Later I gathered with area residents at the Wasilla Presbyterian Church to pray for the thousands of victims.
My parents would travel from Wasilla to New York in the aftermath of 9/11 to work near the World Trade Center. Their temporary job with the USDA Wildlife Services
I told our city atrorney, “Give me a break. I’ve been living in a
‘man’s world’ all my life-when I hunt, when I’m on a commercial fishing boat, when I was reporring sports from men’s locker rooms.” I was no stranger to these bastions of masculinity. It took almost three years to defend against that lawsuit, but in the end a judge agreed with me.
When I ran
reelection, John Stein again challenged me for
the job. In one debate, Stein referred to me as a “cheerleader” and a “Spice Girl.”
A cheerleader? I thought. Come on, don’t insult cheerleaders like that. I was just a jock and I couldn’t hold a candle to rheir pep and coordination.
“At least get ir right;’ I laughed when it was my turn to respond. “Call me ‘Sporry Spice’!”
• 79
•
SARAH
PALIN
I thought the whole thing was hilarious because a TV station was covering the debate and I knew that his sexist remark would play to my advantage. (As Napoleon said, “Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.”) A young female reporter, brand new to Alaska, caught Stein’s “Spice Girl” comment.
“I can’t believe what that candidate just said about you!” she rold me, appalled and sympathetic.
I shook my head in a “can you believe whar we women have ro put up with?” way and milked it for all it was worth. “I know, I know,” I said. “But you just have ro rise above all that and plow through! Look, we have ro work twice as hard ro prove we’re half as capable as men think they are.”
Then I gave her a wink and whispered the old familiar punchline, “Thankfully, it’s not thar difficult.” I won the election with about 75 percent of the vote in a threeway race. In my second tetm, I had the honor of setving my peers from around the state as president of the Alaska Conference of Mayors. In that position, I led dozens of other mayors in dealing with statewide issues, such as municipal revenue sharing and advocating for local control of government. I loved being able to help other communities, and it allowed me ro expand my contacts around the state.
4
So often in life, the first hint of tragedy artives with a phone call. Early in the morning of September 11, 2001, our police department called me at home to tell me ro turn on the news. Thousands of miles away, at the epicentet of our country’s financial markets, the World Ttade Center atrocity unfolded before our eyes. Surreal reports continued: The Pentagon had been hit. A plane had crashed in a Pennsylvania field. For the first time in hisrory, the Federal Aviation Administration had ordered every plane out of the sky.
.
80
•
Going Rogue
Like all Americans, Alaskans wondered where the terrorists would strike next. The terrorists had struck at our military and financial center, and had meant to hit another seat of power in Washington. Officials thought the Trans-Alaska Pipeline could be on the list of possible targets. In Anchorage, the Air Force scrambled fighter jets, while FAA air traffic controllers frantically tried to make contact with at least one foreign jet still in the air out of communication with towers. In Wasilla, I monitored the early-morning events from my office as we prepared the Valley’s public safety building as an emergency center. Later I gathered with area residents at the Wasilla Presbyterian Church to pray for the thousands of victims.
My parents would travel from Wasilla to New York in the aftermath of 9/11 to work near the World Trade Center. Their temporary job with the USDA Wildlife Services
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