I started to speak out in class. It suddenly seemed completely ridiculous that girls were not allowed to wear pants to school—even in winter, when we had to navigate snowdrifts in dresses and rubber boots. We weren’t allowed to wear panty hose either. What was this nonsense? I asked the principal, Mr. Toole.

Mr. Toole, with his big, square, black-rimmed glasses that looked like twin TV sets, said, “Janice, if you can get the majority of the girls in your class to sign a petition, I will allow you and them to wear pants.” He said this to me then smiled. I thought, This is too easy. You are a fool, Mr. Toole! This thing will be knocked out by the end of week. I was in fifth grade.

That night, with the help of my dad, I created a petition. It simply said, “We, the undersigned, wish to be granted the right to wear pants to school.” I thought there couldn’t be a simpler thing. All the girls wanted to wear pants. All the girls complained about having to wear dresses. All I had to do to change that was round up a posse and have them sign their names.
I was about to get my first lesson in reality. 

Mr. Toole had the benefit of wisdom and cynicism on his side. He watched with a bemused grin as I was rejected, one after another, by every girl in my class. I was at once outraged, perplexed, and crushed that no one would support what I thought was a group cause.

“But don’t you want to wear pants to school?” I pleaded with Joan White.

“Of course I do,” she answered, “but I’ll get in trouble if I sign that th...