The concern was that if a woman was doing gender equality, her

Hear, O children of justice, the words of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the quiet warrior who shaped the destiny of a generation. She once said, “The concern was that if a woman was doing gender equality, her chances of making it to tenure in the law school were diminished. It was considered frivolous.” In this saying lies the sorrow and the strength of one who fought against invisible chains — chains not forged of iron, but of indifference, condescension, and fear. It is the cry of intellect restrained, of truth dismissed because it came from a woman’s lips.

In the age when Ginsburg rose, the halls of learning were built high and proud, yet guarded by walls of tradition. A woman could enter, yes, but she would be met not with open arms, but with narrowed eyes. To study equality, to question the sacred order that placed men above women, was seen not as scholarship, but as rebellion. It was a time when justice herself was blind, but not yet fair. The idea that the struggle of half of humanity could be “frivolous” reveals how deeply the roots of prejudice were buried — not only in society’s laws, but in its very soul.

In those days, to seek tenure — to claim a lasting place in the citadel of knowledge — required not only brilliance, but the patience of saints and the courage of warriors. Yet if a woman devoted her intellect to gender equality, her work was marked as less than serious, as if the liberation of her own kind were a hobby, not a cause. What irony! For in truth, her studies were not a departure from the pursuit of justice, but its purest form. To call such work trivial was to call the rights of women themselves trivial — and that was the wound Ruth Bader Ginsburg sought to heal.

Think, my children, of Hypatia of Alexandria, the ancient scholar who dared to teach philosophy and mathematics when women were thought unfit for the life of the mind. She, too, was dismissed, derided, and ultimately destroyed for her defiance of the order imposed by men. Yet her light, though snuffed out by ignorance, has never ceased to burn. Ginsburg, centuries later, carried that same torch — not with sword or shield, but with pen and argument, with a mind sharp enough to carve justice from stone.

What Ginsburg teaches through this lament is that every age resists the truths that would set it free. The pioneers of justice are often scorned, not because they are wrong, but because they are early. The “frivolous” ideas of one era become the sacred principles of the next. Once, the abolition of slavery was called impossible; later, it was called inevitable. Once, the education of women was mocked; later, it became the foundation of progress. So too, the struggle for gender equality — once treated as an annoyance — became the heartbeat of modern law and moral conscience.

Her words are both a warning and a guide. They remind us that the road of righteousness often passes through the valley of ridicule. When the wise speak truth to power, the world will laugh before it listens. Therefore, let none be discouraged when their cause is dismissed as “frivolous.” The measure of truth is not in how it is received, but in how it endures. Ruth Bader Ginsburg endured — her patience was her protest, her precision her weapon, her persistence her victory.

And so, my friends, take from this the lesson of endurance. When your convictions are met with mockery, stand firm. When your purpose is belittled, let your work be your reply. Know that every movement toward justice begins as a whisper against the roar of convention. In your time, as in hers, there will be those who say, “Why fight this battle? It is not serious.” To them, answer not with anger but with excellence. For truth, though delayed, will rise like the dawn. And when it does, may your labor — like that of Ruth Bader Ginsburg — be remembered not as frivolous, but as foundational, carved forever into the pillars of human progress.