Published Articles

AFTER THE WALL
by Karen Ackland
WIN International Magazine, February 2000

It has been ten years since the fall of the Berlin Wall. On a recent trip to Berlin, I ask my friend Jutta, who was born and raised in East Germany, how she feels about the last decade. She replies that the changes are all in the past and that she rarely thinks about them. But I am not sure that I believe her. Only this morning, as we drove through the city in her red Honda, she announced that we are crossing the former border. I know that for her, particularly as a woman, there was more than one border to cross.

"I never used to consider myself a feminist, at least not up to now," Jutta tells me. "There was no need for this concept in the East because there was more equality between men and women. But it seems that the more successful men become, the more they assume feelings of superiority. As women, our career opportunities have increased, but only if we are assertive and fight for ourselves. It has been very hard. Many women, because of their age, education, or inclination, have not yet learned to face these challenges. And in this society, nobody cares if we fail."

I first met Jutta five years ago when I was in Berlin on business. We both worked for the same company that manufactured industrial thermometers. My job was to coordinate marketing activities between the European division in Berlin and corporate headquarters in California. Jutta, a petite, dark-haired woman in her early 40s, was my host. Through our friendship, I received a personal view of the changes women in East Germany were facing.

I had hoped on that first trip to experience some of the enthusiasm for a reunited Germany that I'd seen on television as cheering crowds tore down the Berlin Wall. Instead, the atmosphere seemed thick with anxiety, particularly among women, as they were the ones most affected by high unemployment rates, the loss of childcare and other social services. I had naively assumed that women would appreciate the new career opportunities available to them. Instead I learned that they had always considered themselves equal partners with men and for the first time were facing job discrimination.

Over lunch at one of the new Chinese restaurants that seem to have sprung up on every block in East Berlin with the advent of capitalism, Jutta confided her worries that her husband would lose his job again. She didn't know what would happen to her children, who now faced so many new choices. She was unsure whether to add to her already hectic schedule by taking on more responsibility within the company. Everything was new and the extent of the change seemed overwhelming.

Jutta grew up in a small town in the HŠrz Mountains and moved to Berlin in 1971 to study languages at Humboldt University, the German Democratic Republic's most prestigious university. She met her husband, Roland, in her sophomore year and they had their first child, Manuela, just before she graduated. She was then 24, an age, she notes with bemusement, considered old for a first-time mother in the GDR.

Jutta already had a job contract as a government translator, but took the normal six months maternity leave with full pay before starting the job. When the half-year was over, she was unhappy to leave Manuela at a nursery, but "the government and our education told us that it is beneficial for everyone to grow up learning to live and work within the larger community." Three years later, she had a son, Matthias. After German reunification, Jutta lost her position as a government interpreter when the East German embassies were closed. Roland, who had worked in a large, state-owned electronics firm, also lost his job when the firm could not compete with the availability of western consumer goods.

"After the Wall came down, we went through phases of enthusiasm, disappointment, anger, and finally a wild determination to survive," recalled Jutta. "It all happened so unexpectedly. The currency changed from one day to the next and left us with half of our money. We continued to live in the same apartment, but our rent increased six times in the first several years. Yes, there were more things available in the stores, but what good is the latest color TV when I'm not sure if I will have a paycheck next month?"

In 1991, Jutta found a job as a secretary/translator with my company. The office was in the eastern section of the city and all the local employees were former East Germans. The learning curve was steep, since most of the staff had previously worked as engineers or scientists and no one had experience with marketing, sales, or customer support.

"I had 15 years experience as an interpreter, but I found translating the technical product literature difficult," Jutta recalled. "Some of the engineers were good at explaining things, but others were impatient and clearly doubted whether a person without a degree in physics or engineering, especially a woman, would ever be able to understand."

Jutta assumed that she would look for work as a translator when things settled down. But she found the challenge of building a company exciting and she grew to like her colleagues. She learned to stand her ground in a male-dominated world and developed new confidence. She continued to take on extra responsibility and today she is a marketing manager at the company.

She admits that she was intimidated when she first met Western women. "I did not have the same self-confidence, to me it often seemed like arrogance, that these women displayed," she said. "I felt stupid, clumsy, and less attractive. Sometimes I felt jealous of what these women had -- expensive cars, big houses, and attractive clothes. I had always worked in the formal environments of embassies and trade missions, and I envied the casual way they related to their male colleagues. I felt insecure because we were told our education and experience was inferior. But as I spent more time with these women, I realized that wasn't true. Now when I meet women from the West, I know that they have many of the same problems that I have."

Roland has sometimes found it difficult to cope with his "new" wife. He was retrained as a computer technician, but he doesn't enjoy his job and is frustrated that Jutta makes more money than he does. Previously their salaries were equal.

"He used to know me as a person who was never sure about anything, least of all about herself," said Jutta. "Whenever I had to face a difficult situation, he was the one who told me, 'You can do this, I believe in you.' Now I have my own self-confidence."

Jutta thinks that her family life would have been better without reunification. Despite her accomplishments, she feels guilty when she thinks about the time she has spent away from her husband and teenage children. "Manuela and Matthias had to change from one school system to a totally different one at a critical time in their lives. I wanted to help them, but I was often wrapped up with my own problems. When they left school, it was almost impossible to find an apprenticeship. In the past the state guaranteed everyone a job or additional education."

Today when I talk to Jutta, I hear accomplishment, rather than anxiety in her voice.

"I wouldn't want to return to the GDR, even if such a country existed," she tells me. "My life now is more interesting than it would have been, and I am stronger. It has taken me a long time to see it, but for me the new society brought something good. Another woman might see it in a different way."

Karen Ackland is a writer and marketing consultant that works with high technology and small business clients in Silicon Valley. She and her husband live in Santa Cruz, California.

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