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The morning that we returned from winter break, I emailed the faculty and staff to welcome them back for the new year. I mentioned that I had seen the Broadway musical Suffs over the break. Suffs chronicles the suffragist movement beginning in 1913—a familiar date, no doubt, to all of us, since Westridge was founded that very same year. To say that this musical captures so much of what we think about, talk about, sing about (Surgere Tentamus – We Strive to Rise), and feel the legacy of at Westridge is an understatement. Passing the baton from generation to generation of women—and all the challenge and inspiration that comes with it; the constant vigilance (often exhausting) and the overall conviction (always inspiring) of striving and rising. I went through a box of tissues watching this play. The final song “Keep Marching” echoes the concept of generations of striving:

“You won’t live to see the future that you fight for
Maybe no one gets to reach that perfect day…
'Cause your ancestors are all the proof you need
That progress is possible, not guaranteed
It will only be made if we keep marching
Keep marching on
… The gains will feel small and the losses too large
Keep marching, keep marching
You’ll rarely agree with whoever’s in charge
Keep marching, keep marching
… And let history sound the alarm of how
The future demands that we fight for it now
It will only be ours if we keep marching
Keep marching on.”

Our faculty and staff often feel like we are marching on alongside our students into the future. Cheering them on, thinking forward with them, believing deeply in the impact we know they will have on the world beyond Westridge. And I find that when progress for them, for women, is in question, as it almost always is, there is both comfort and gravitas in leading a school that has existed since 1913—through two world wars, through social unrest, through pandemics and much more. There is a sense of perpetual forward momentum to that. History always “sound(s) an alarm” to warn us that progress is never to be taken for granted—“progress… is not guaranteed”—and yet the history of our school is still comforting in its expansiveness. History has its eyes on us (Hamilton). We better take that seriously.

While the seriousness and future-orientation of our mission is always motivating, necessary, and full of change-the world-energy, so too is boldly claiming joy, pleasure, and the vitality of the moment. This feels especially meaningful for girls and women—and especially meaningful in these dizzying and divisive world times. 

This Women’s History Month, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ability of girls and women to claim joy and how this connects to true freedom. That might be because we rang in March with a day off from academic classes for our annual All School Day, a day to pause and rest and have fun together. A day of listening to the shrieks and laughter of our students—and watching them weave community service elements into this day of rest (thank you to the ASB and Service Reps for planning such a great day for us!) In addition to our All School Day, two moments in the last few months link in my mind as I think about this concept. 

The first is a Cyndi Lauper concert that I attended in November at the Intuit Dome with my daughter Lucy, a current Westridge senior. This was a very full-circle moment for me because Lauper’s She’s So Unusual was my very first cassette tape, and I listened to it endlessly when it first came out. And so, to attend this concert with my almost-adult daughter was quite emotional in the way that time-passing moments always are. At the end of the concert, Lauper sang the song everyone was waiting for, of course, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” while everyone danced and sang along. As the song neared its end, the chant turned from “girls just wanna have fun” to “girls just wanna have fundamental rights”—Lauper led the inspired crowd in the fast and intense repetition of this powerful phrase. While this song can seem simple and light, a close look at its lyrics (“oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones” and “daddy dear you know you’re still number one”) and the slight but intentional shift in this chant from “fun” to “fundamental” reveals a deeper significance, something more definitive. Many have noted that this song, this album, is feminist and forward-thinking. This wordplay between “fun” and “fundamental rights” that girls “just” want to have links the two concepts beautifully: fun is freedom, is full humanity, is a fundamental right along with all other fundamental rights that girls and women deserve. When forces suppress girls and women, suppressing fun is part of this dehumanization. To claim fun is subversive.

The second moment was a few weeks ago when I visited with former Westridge head of school, Fran Scoble, at her nearby home in Pasadena. Whenever we meet up, we have memorable conversations that I cherish, and often our conversations turn to our mutual love of literature, especially poetry. This time the conversation somehow naturally took us to Robert Browning’s famous dramatic monologue, “My Last Duchess,” an eerie poem in which the Duke showcases and discusses a painting of his Duchess; as the poem goes on, the Duke reveals that he had the Duchess killed because:

“She had
A heart – how shall I say? – too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’ver
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, t’was all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace – all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least.”

That the Duchess took so much pleasure and had “spot(s) of joy” in such an indiscriminate, full, and robust way for so many worldly things makes the Duke so insanely jealous that he kills her to control her and end all of her pleasure once and for all. As I was having this conversation with Fran, for some reason, my mind imagined the Duchess dancing at the Cyndi Lauper concert. The Duchess “just” wanted to have fun—to have fundamental rights, to have the fundamental right to have fun and pleasure, to enjoy the beauty and sensuality and deliciousness of life. To be alive in the fullest, most human way. Too much for the Duke to abide. 

And it was with all of this in mind—suffragists in 1913, Cyndi, the Duchess, and the challenging state of the world today—that I attended the recent California Association of Independent Schools conference for heads of school and trustees and heard the keynote speaker, Amer Kaissi, a professor and researcher of leadership, speak about the importance of humility (combined with ambition) for leaders. To be a humble leader, one needs self-reflection, open-mindedness, and appreciation for others. While Kaissi’s speech was not explicitly about girls and women, I keep linking this notion of humility in leadership to Cyndi, to the Duchess, and ultimately to Westridge’s mission. It is humility in leadership that allows for genuine collaboration and empathy, genuine courage and compassion, and that sees the strength in championing fundamental rights, the full humanity and aliveness of people, especially the most marginalized. Lauper’s “Daddy dear” and Browning’s Duke insist on being “number one,” on controlling at all costs. As my senior Westridge daughter noted when I was chatting with her about these ideas, “The primary focus of a leader who lacks humility is restraint and not freedom. Humility allows for fun to be a given, not because a humble leader is less motivated and can make room for fun, but because there’s no self-indulgent reason for a leader to restrict it.” 

A girl who “just” wants to have fun/fundamental rights, a Duchess with a heart “too soon made glad,” girls and women insisting on the full human experience—these have been threats to power structures that lack humility throughout history. Maybe that “perfect day” suffragists “marched on” for—and that we at Westridge continue to strive for today—can only be reached through all of us championing our mission in the broadest sense: to send courageous and compassionate leaders, leaders with humility, into the future world. A serious and joyful mission, for sure. 
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Andrea Kassar is the head of Westridge School. She has more than 20 years’ experience as an administrator and teacher at girls’ schools in New York, and is a graduate of Brearley, a K-12 girls’ school in Manhattan. She holds a B.A. in English and psychology from the University of Chicago, an M.A. in English and comparative literature from Columbia University, and an M.A. in psychology from the New School for Social Research. She is also the parent of three children—Lucy '25, Billy, and Cecily.