I say to the women out there, remember how difficult it was for

In the words of Maryanne Trump Barry: “I say to the women out there, remember how difficult it was for women like Justice O’Connor starting out. Even though she graduated with top grades, she had to take a job as a legal secretary. Remember how far we have come.” These words shine like a beacon across the generations, reminding us that the path of progress is paved with sacrifice, endurance, and courage. They speak both to the struggle of the past and the triumph of the present, urging all who listen to honor those who bore the weight of injustice so that others might walk more freely.

The ancients often reminded their children of the hardships endured by their forebears, so that gratitude would temper pride and perseverance would strengthen resolve. In this spirit, Barry calls upon women to remember the trials of Sandra Day O’Connor, the first woman to sit upon the Supreme Court of the United States. Though she possessed brilliance and earned high honors in her studies, the world of law was closed to her as a woman. Firms would not hire her as an attorney, though lesser men filled those posts with ease. Forced by prejudice, she began her journey not in the seat of judgment, but behind the desk of a secretary.

Yet O’Connor did not despair. She endured, she learned, she proved herself indispensable, and in time her brilliance could not be denied. Rising through the ranks of law and politics, she shattered the barrier once thought unbreakable and ascended to the nation’s highest court. Her story is a living testament that though injustice may delay destiny, it cannot forever deny it. This is why Barry urges us to “remember how far we have come.” For to forget is to dishonor the struggle; to remember is to find strength to continue the journey.

History is filled with such tales. In ancient Rome, women could not plead before the courts or hold office, yet they influenced politics and safeguarded family honor through wisdom and counsel. In the early days of the American republic, women were denied both vote and profession, yet they organized, educated, and agitated until their voices grew too strong to be silenced. Each generation bore its weight, and each pressed a little farther, until the walls began to crack and light poured through.

The deeper meaning of Barry’s words is this: progress is not a gift, but a conquest. Rights are not handed down from the powerful without struggle; they are wrested from reluctance through courage and persistence. Women like O’Connor bore indignity not because they lacked merit, but because society refused to see. By remembering this, women today—and indeed all people—are reminded to guard against complacency, for what was won through struggle can be lost through forgetfulness.

The lesson here is not merely one of memory, but of responsibility. If women of the past endured the role of secretary when they were fit to be judges, then women of the present must use their opportunities not only for themselves but to widen the path for those who follow. Gratitude for progress must be matched with vigilance to preserve it, and courage to expand it further.

So let this teaching endure: remember the struggles of those who came before, honor their sacrifice by living fully in the opportunities they carved, and never forget that the arc of justice bends only when many hands, over many years, pull it toward the light. In your own life, face obstacles with courage, use your gifts with integrity, and lend your strength to others still struggling. For only then can we truly say, with truth and pride: remember how far we have come.