Abroad for Her Country: Tales of a Pioneer Woman Ambassador in the U.S. Foreign Service

Tegucigalpa, Honduras, 1966–69 (Deputy Chief of Mission; Chargé d’Affaires a.i.)

Nine Tegucigalpa, Honduras, 1966–69 (Deputy Chief of Mission; Chargé d’Affaires a.i.) Sensitivity Training for Leadership As my first assignment to Rome in the mid-1960s ended abruptly with the death of my mother, who had been my in-residence dependent for ten years, the Department of State was at its sympathetic best with my next assignment. I was transferred to a different continent, a different language, and a leadership responsibility that became a turning point in my career— deputy chief of mission (DCM) to Embassy Tegucigalpa in Honduras. I thus became the first woman assigned as deputy ambassador to a Latin American post. I spoke Spanish, had geographic familiarity from previous assignments to Colombia and Chile, and had gained some leadership experience as commercial counselor at Embassy Rome. Also in my favor was the year in the Senior Seminar in Foreign Policy in Arlington, Virginia. The State Department seemed to think that my preparation for Honduras should also include “sensitivity training” with a group of midlevel peers. Again I was the only woman in an otherwise all-male group of twenty-five. A curious course, its location at Garmisch-Partenkirchen in Germany was even more curious, apparently chosen because of easy 201 accessibility for participants selected from around Europe and the Middle East. I came up from Rome, still grieving deeply only weeks after my mother’s death—not the best circumstances for “sensitivity” training. With superb mountain scenery as backdrop, we sat for a week through trainer-led modules on leadership, group dynamics, and behavioral problems , then took turns sitting on what was called “the hot seat.” This meant being the center of attention while colleagues fired challenging questions on whatever subject they could get away with of a personal or official nature. It was vitally important to keep one’s cool. Once on “the hot seat” I was thrown a curve: “What makes YOU think YOU will make a good DCM in Honduras?” Even though my colleagues were generally of minister-counselor rank and came from heading sections in the largest embassies in Europe, none had yet been named No. 2 in an embassy. Perhaps none would have given a second thought to a small post in Central America. But it was the title that caught their attention and the chance it represented to stand in for an ambassador as chargé d’affaires ad interim, whether for a day or possibly months. I resented the pettiness, perhaps even jealousy, behind the question. But I hid my feelings, realizing it was only a game of sorts. In the mid1960s , the Feminist Revolution hadn’t yet taken hold. Many men were still having trouble adjusting to the possibility that women might be their equal, or even be leaders like men. I refused to be assertive on the subject and was silent on the revolutionary feminists, who seemed at times to focus almost exclusively on gender and to ignore quality of performance, experience, and compatibility as critical factors in achieving their goals. I believed there was a different way, based on natural complementarity and not rocking the boat. It was clear that men had primacy of place in jobs and leadership in those days, but women were increasingly getting into professions like the male strongholds of law and medicine, as well as business. Women were generally tolerated, even liked, if they were “humble” enough, didn’t push too hard, or get too far out ahead of the men. When that rude question was thrown at me during the course at Garmisch , it appeared to go beyond theoretical testing to convey real doubts about my leadership ability. I drew a deep breath, then replied in such a soft, measured voice I hardly recognized it: “I did not ask for the job. The Tegucigalpa, Honduras, 1966–69 202 Department of State assigned me to it and seems to have confidence in my ability to discharge it; so I will try to do the best I can, based on my background and experience.” Although the question deeply offended me, it was probably legitimate within the bounds of what the course was trying to achieve, and I was determined not to break into tears. Unfortunately, the man before me had wept when mercilessly set up by his classmates. While on the hot seat he left himself wide open by “running at the mouth” with some foolish admissions about...