Madison Verner: Could you explain how you became a professor and how you found your field in rhetoric and composition?

Erin Costello Wecker: It was a circuitous route (for certain) as I am the first person in my family to go to college, so you could say I took my time exploring before committing to a field of expertise for my doctoral work. With that said, I grew up with parents that were voracious readers who also had a ravenous appetite for music, which followed us from our home to our cars and to the pub that they owned. There were always books and tunes. I was always encouraged to be curious, but I was also a huge procrastinator and kind of thought of myself as a little bit of a slacker throughout school. Every report card I’ve ever had was always along the lines of, “Erin is very bright and could do so much more.” I’ve never really thought of myself in the mold of an academic because in my family we referred to big thinking and debating around the kitchen table as banter–these conversations fueled our minds and hearts. Recollecting on those memories now, I can say that it was in these exchanges with my parents and brother where that the natural rhetor in me began to emerge. 

But academics were not my primary focus until I went to college. For my middle and high school years I attended a ski racing academy in Vermont where we balanced intellectual pursuits and rigorous athletic training. Like nearly everyone at my school, our shared dream was to try and make the Olympics. I guess I’ve always had a pretty intense drive and tenacity for things that I wanted to achieve. At the age of 20, my ski racing career abruptly ended due to an injury, so it was time to redirect my energies. In all honesty, I had no idea what I wanted to do after ski racing because for so many years I myopically focused on this one thing that brought me a ton of joy, but then in a flash it was over.”

 At the time of my accident I was living in Utah. Being from New England, I was really captivated by the lifestyle in the Mountain West, so I went to Montana as my brother was living there already and enrolled in college. For nearly two years, I had no idea what to major in or what I wanted to be when I grew up. Based on my love of reading I declared my major as English with a minor in Native American Studies. Unbeknownst to me, this decision fuelled a magical transition wherein I finally found a tangible way to transfer my athletic drive into something new. A cherished byproduct of this shift was the way in which my course work stirred an intellectual revival–somthing my elementary school teachers seemed to know was just waiting to emerge. As an undergraduate I found an academic rhythm that suited me and I knew that I wanted to attend graduate school as I still had so many unanswered questions. Luckily, I was accepted into the Irish Studies program at Boston College, which in many ways is my intellectual home and first love, if you will. When I completed my master’s degree, I took time off to decide if I should apply to Ph.D. programs. 

Now, when I share this part of my academic journey, my transparency shocks some people as many think of doctoral-level work as just following your passion. Certainly that is part of the equation as it is vital to locate an area of expertise which consistently conjures a deep sense of longitudinal and sustainable wonder. But in stark reality to that schema is the acknowledgment that upon completion of my degree, I needed to secure employment. The collision of these disparate energies made me wonder if there was a way to choose my own adventure–a unicorn-esque plan of study if you will. My mentors challenged me to think about ways to braid together myriad fields to form a wider net of inquiry—one that would include Irish Studies while concurrently opening up space for other related interests. I started exploring the field of Rhetoric and Composition. I was instantly captivated when exposed to Aspasia of Miletus (c. 470-after 428 BC) who is often credited with being the first female rhetorician. At the time, I was quite new to the field of rhetoric, but this first introduction super charged my intellectual curiosity.

So, I started to think about ways that I could try and better understand Irish Studies through the prism of rhetoric and composition. My decision to get a Ph.D. in rhetoric ended up being serendipitous as it enables me to work across multiple discourse communities and varied dimensions of academia. 

Verner: When I was researching you before this interview, I found that you were super interdisciplinary. I think it just makes a more interesting topic. Could you tell me about your research on Irish women’s labor and Magdalene laundries?

Costello Wecker: Yeah, absolutely. That all started for me back when I was at Boston College doing my master’s degree in Irish Studies. I was lucky to be mentored by Dr. James Smith, who is one the most inquisitive, generous, compassionate, and brilliant people I’ve ever met. When I arrived at Boston College, I was quite green to the culture and rigor of graduate-level studies. As the first person in my family to go to college, I felt as though I lacked the formal training needed to be successful in higher-ed. Thankfully, Dr. Smith interrupted my running script of doubt and instead offered me encouragement which made space for my ideas to grow. At the same time, he was working on his landmark book, “Ireland’s Magdalen Laundries and the Nation’s Architecture of Containment.” 

As a graduate student this provided me the rare opportunity to watch one of my professors conduct archival research and draft a text. I remain in awe of Smith’s ability to interrogate the social norms that brutally labeled people outcasts and misfits–and how that same society hid, contained, and marginalized these innocents. I was intrigued by the questions he was asking, and so I started to ask my own through the lens of a feminist rhetorician. Without going into too many specific details about Ireland’s Magdalen Laundries, I will just note that the last one closed in 1996, which is the same year I graduated high school. That date is salient in that it is plausible that I could have been placed in one of these institutions, as could some of my peers; thus, it is worth pausing to metabolize the fact that this is all recent history.

The more I learned about these institutions the more my intellectual curiosity grew. Prior to meeting Dr. Smith, I had no awareness of this particular history. I grew up in a vibrant Irish American household where our culture and heritage were central to our understanding of the world, but this topic never came up at family gatherings. I have always been intrigued by absences and I started to trace the erasure of women from historical records and public memory. Our vernacular is littered with terms to broadcast these absences such as silencing, airbrushing, obscuring, forgetting, etc. Yet within these absences, I contend there is evidence of a meaningful presence, which is a concept that my current book investigates. 

To that end, I started looking to see if and/or how Irish women and Irish American women were obscured or forgotten. Were these acts of erasure malicious? As I interrogated those absences, I found myself facing some of the more well-known examples of women’s contributions disappearing. For example, the Easter Rising which took place in 1916 in Ireland, is a pivotal moment in the fight for independence. There’s a really famous picture of Éilís Ní Fhearghail (Elizabeth O’Farrell) and Pádraig Mac Piarais (Patrick Pearse) standing shoulder to shoulder while surrendering to the British. Both Éilís Ní Fhearghail and Pádraig Mac Piarais are taking the same risk, but she is airbrushed out of the photograph. Her erasure varies in that in some images you see the hem of her skirt and in others you can only see her boots. I started thinking that if she could be airbrushed from a major moment in history, then there must be countless examples of stories that haven’t been celebrated. Serendipitously, just a few years ago, massive celebrations were happening all over Ireland in celebration of various centenaries. With those celebrations came calls from public libraries, historical societies, and even the National Archives of Ireland for citizens to bring forward any heirlooms or material culture that represented pivotal moments in time. This call was unique in that each object represents a personal history, a familial history, and a national history—and embedded within the fabric of these objects are stories—many still waiting to be heard. Serendipitously, just a few years ago, massive celebrations were happening all over Ireland in celebration of various centenaries. With those celebrations came calls from public libraries, historical societies, and even the National Archives of Ireland put out calls for citizens to share heirlooms as examples of the material culture that represented these pivotal moments in time. In this way, each example of material culture represents a personal history, a familial history, and a national history—and embedded within the fabric of these objects are stories—many still waiting to be heard. That’s how I became acquainted with Kate Kennedy (1827-90), who is the subject of my current book–a labor of love that has required over five years of archival research due to a variety of factors including her own legacy being obstructed.    

Verner: That’s a great transition into my next question, which is perfect. I’d love to talk about your work on Kate Kennedy. Could you tell me about the book you’re writing, Irish Trailblazers in California: The Story of Kate Kennedy? 

Costello Wecker:Yes, of course! That title is actually from one of my lectures on Kennedy, but not the title of the book. The title that I’m playing around with currently is “The Persistent Agitator: Kate Kennedy’s Mission for Gender Pay Parity and Protection from Arbitrary Demotion and Dismissal.” I want to emphasize that the persistent agitator bit is my nickname for Kennedy. I say that phrase with love as Kennedy feels like a dear friend of mine at this point as I have been spending so much time with her—and her status as a persistent agitator is one of her qualities that I find most remarkable. I say that with great love, admiration, and respect. Let me tell you how I came to Kate Kennedy because I did not find her on my own. I was here in Montana, this was probably eight years ago. I was a couple of years into my job here at the University of Montana, and Robert O’Driscoll, who was the Consul General of Ireland (San Francisco office) came on an official visit. It was the first time I was meeting Robert and we started chatting while walking in St. Patrick’s cemetery in Butte, Montana. 

Robert asked me, “beyond being a scholar, what else makes you tick?” Actually, Madison, my conversation with him is similar to how we started this interview.  He said, “I actually know a woman…well, I don’t know her. She’s dead. She died in 1890, but there’s a woman that you need to write a book about. Because when I hear you talk about yourself, I hear this person.” He then asked, “have you ever heard of Kate Kennedy?” And I replied, “no, should I?” His face lit up and he exclaimed, “I’m serious. You should write a book on Kennedy.” He offered me a few  tidbits about her life and then encouraged me to pursue the project with this advice, “You’re the researcher. You’re the scholar. Just hit the ground running!” I started reaching out to local people and organizations that Robert suggested. I also just started looking for Kate Kennedy and asking, where had her story gone? Who was she? Why aren’t there any installations of public memory dedicated to her?  Is there power in memorialization and if so who controls these narratives of public memory? Who decides what is remembered and what is forgotten? Can obfuscation and erasure be disrupted? 

Kate Kennedy emigrated from Ireland to New York city during the worst year of An Gorta Mór (the Great Hunger). While this time period was marked by massive waves of immigration, Kennedy’s story is unique in that her family left Ireland not because of starvation, but rather for political reasons.

Kennedy was incredibly well-educated and her first job in New York had her doing lace work. Unsatisfied by the lack of career prospects in New York, Kennedy decides to head west to San Francisco. Kennedy faced intense anti-Irish, anti-Catholic prejudice in California. In the face of this, she took two cases to the California Supreme Court and won. The first case was in 1874 and established equal work for equal pay (gender pay parity). Despite this landmark victory, I can say for certain that in 2025 many women are still paid less than their male counterparts—and I include myself in this lopsided fact. Next, Kennedy sued her employer, the California Board of Education (CBE), which you might imagine enraged them. In turn, the CBE demoted and then eventually fired Kennedy without cause. She sued for protection against arbitrary demotion and dismissal–and won. Now this case directly connects to my professional life because as a tenured professor I am grateful for Kennedy’s actions as her victory is at the crux of the tenure system in the United States.  

Verner: The tenure system was created by that action? 

Costello Wecker: In part, yes. Her second case established protection from arbitrary demotion and dismissal, which is now what the catch-all is for tenure, not just in universities but also elementary schools, high schools. That tenure system that we have in this country is largely informed by her bold moves. Kennedy knew she was more educated, had more experience, but she was paid less than her male colleagues. 

I think of my own personal history as a first-generation college student that probably doesn’t fit perfectly within academia. I’m rough around the edges, but it is because of Kate Kennedy that there’s space for scholars like me to think in ways that are perhaps unconventional without the persistent fear of being fired. I have been fortunate to uncover some remarkable materials related to Kennedy, so I’m also working on a documentary about her to showcase how her victories are not merely historic in nature; rather the same issues Kennedy was fighting for in the 1800s cyclically reappear and warrant our attention to persistently agitate for equality. 

Verner: We’ll talk more about her right now. Would you tell me about female political agency in San Francisco at the time of Kate Kennedy? 

Costello Wecker: Female political agency wasn’t a uniquely American or San Franciscan thing, but Kennedy’s version of it was informed by the prejudice she encountered in California. To help illustrate that sequence of events,  I offer the film “Gangs of New York,” which stars Daniel Day-Lewis and Leonardo DiCaprio. The film doesn’t focus on female political agency or San Francisco, but it does expose the reignited nativist movement of the 1840s, which Kennedy lived through. As people started moving west, so did the anti-immigration stance of cities like New York, Boston, and Chicago eventually spreading all the way to San Francisco. During Kennedy’s lifetime, there were multiple publications in San Francisco that published poisonous, anti-Irish and anti-Catholic columns, articles, comics, etc. and these periodicals were quite popular. Honestly, it’s overwhelming how much vitriolic content these publications produced on a daily basis and how many subscribers they boasted. But, to get back to your question, the way that women circulated in San Francisco during the 1840s and 1850s, was largely informed by membership within different societal enclaves or discourse communities, which in turn amplified or restricted their political agency. On paper, certain aspects of Kennedy’s personhood should have rendered her social status stagnant within the hierarchies of San Francisco’s elite because she was an Irish immigrant and Catholic–she never married and never had children–and she was the highly educated, but working class. Undeterred by these seemingly insurmountable obstacles, Kennedy resolutely entered the workforce, ran for political office, and befriended powerful allies such as lawyers and judges who supported her legal battles through filing multiple amicus briefs on her behalf. To my mind, one of the defining characteristics of Kennedy’s political agency was her ability to transgress prescribed social norms as evidenced by her fervent commitment to enshrining women’s and workers’ rights within the Golden State–even when this required her to operate as a solo political agent. While circumstances often required her to work alone, Kennedy was always fighting for the collective, but on her terms.  She was under the radar. She was not somebody that would have wanted a bunch of Instagram followers. She just quietly did the work—without any fanfare—because what motivated Kennedy was a sense of justice for all—not the promise of celebrity. 

When Kennedy won her first case with the California Supreme Court and established gender pay parity, many well-known suffragists made the trek from Seneca Falls to San Francisco, including Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Kennedy welcomed the visit, but was direct about not wanting any fanfare. She just wanted to talk about ideas and ways to advance various issues confronting women with likeminded peers. In part, I think her refusal of antiquated gender norms is partially responsible for the dearth of public memory surrounding her life’s work. In the public record, Kennedy is recorded as a disruptive force, but not in the same way I use this phrase with admiration. A lot of the newspapers at the time struggled to report on Kennedy because she defied categorization. To my mind this is most obvious in the clumsy attempts of the press to unearth gossip about her sexuality, marital status, etc.and when they were unable to find anything salacious they simply labeled her a spinster, but nothing could be further from the truth.  More specifically, some of this gossip-style reporting stems from her refusal to embrace the rigid decorum of the Victorian Era or that of the overlapping Gilded Age–in this way Kate Kennedy dared to exit the parlor and I am so glad she did!

Verner: That’s super interesting. And she sounds like a really strong woman. And I’m glad you don’t consider her a spinster because I know with a lot of things like my studies in college, we talk a lot about and I research a lot of East Asian politics and women. And spinster is a very commonly used phrase for just any woman who doesn’t get married. 

Costello Wecker: Right, I totally agree with you about how problematic that label is across the board. Consider, too, that such prevailing attitudes were something Kennedy witnessed regularly and as she rebuked such limiting thinking, I believe her exclusion served as a spark that encouraged her to be involved in the suffrage movement and local politics. To that point, Kennedy was the first woman to run for public office in the state of California. Her vanguard candidacy stands out to me in two distinct ways: she ran for public office nearly three decades before women were legally allowed to vote in the United States and she entered the political arena knowing that her supervisor, the superintendent of schools, was also running in the same election. Kennedy did not win her election, but in marvelous fashion, her candidacy successfully took away enough votes to spoil her supervisor’s campaign causing him to lose the election as well. My mind blissfully expands when I metabolize how wondrous and bold Kennedy’s actions were and I am reminded how her efforts are extremely relevant in this current moment. 

To me, moments where an individual is able to affect change on a national scale, to benefit the wider community and not just advance their own goals, is part of what makes Kennedy so remarkable. I like to imagine Kennedy’s internal monologue when she was preparing to announce her candidacy for public office. She must have studied the landscape, noted where she was excluded, and said something such as, “all right, I cannot vote, but there isn’t a law saying that I cannot run for office, so I am going to do just that.”

Verner: I have a question on here about Kennedy’s political process. I don’t know if there’s more to say than what you’ve already said. So if there’s anything more about, like, how she ran, how she got support, I’d love to hear about that too. 

Costello Wecker: Sure, I can say a bit more about her political process. I’m just looking at my notes as we talk because I am currently working on the chapter that covers this topic. My main comment would be that Kennedy was very politically active, but her allegiance was not singular or contained by one political party or voting issue. She worked with a group called the Statewide Teachers Institute who put her up for election. A major cause that Kennedy was quite involved in was the Single Tax Movement also called Georgism. She was also in groups like the Minerva Society, some literary societies, etc. Her political process was unique in that she went into campaigns knowing that she had virtually no chance of winning, but she astutely recognized that simply getting her name on the ticket was far more invaluable. 

Verner: Did she get more votes than her boss?

Wecker: No. But she took enough votes away that the press attributed his loss to her running. In this current moment many people are hesitant to take something on unless they feel it’s a guaranteed victory. So Kennedy’s mindset to say, this is a loser, but it’s going to win something different is vitally relevant. I think, too, that’s why she was so involved in so many different groups, because she didn’t want to be known just as somebody that was in the Single Tax Movement or the US woman suffrage movement. To my mind, Kennedy did not want to be remembered or defined by a single cause. Rather, she saw the various problems plaguing average people and she endeavored to be an agent of change. She’s very kaleidoscopic, if you will. 

Verner: Could you tell me about the Colma Cemetery? 

Costello Wecker: Sure. I’m laughing because I’ve had some interesting experiences out there. So when Kate Kennedy died in 1890, she was originally buried in Laurel Hill Cemetery. Laurel Hill Cemetery was in San Francisco, in what is now the Laurel Heights area. Shortly after 1890, the city started saying to themselves, this is really good real estate, and we’ve got a lot of dead people taking up a lot of room here. So local politicians started a scheme to close Laurel Hill cemetery and relocate the remains of those already buried on the property. Now, the importance of Laurel Hill should not be understated. What I mean by that is Laurel Hill was the preferred burial place of many prominent people—so much so that there was a section of the cemetery called Senators Row, which featured a long line of ornately decorated mausoleums and elaborate headstones. Thus, when the city devised a plan to relocate Laurel Hill’s dead, officials may not have accurately anticipated the public outcry and intense protest that occurred in response to the plan to reinter thousands of human remains.

Eventually in 1914, the plan was put to a vote and as you might expect, there was a groundswell of impassioned activism to stop the removal and reinterment of the dead on the basis that Laurel Hill represented the final wishes of the corpses resting within the cemetery. Voters who opposed the city’s plans were victorious albeit only for a limited amount of time. After many intense legal challenges, the city was victorious and in 1937 they officially secured the right to relocate the dead. 

Well, now what do they do with all of these human remains? The plan was to move the dead just over 10 miles to Colma, CA. Now Colma itself is quite interesting as it is officially designated as a necropolis where the dead outnumber the living 1,000 to 1. There are multiple cemeteries in Colma, but the one that you’re asking me about is called Cypress Lawn Memorial Park. Let me offer a bit of logistics to help bring this picture into focus. When people were moved from Laurel Hill, the responsibility, both physically and financially was on the deceased’s estate or their living family and/or friends. Certainly, some people couldn’t afford to reinter their dead as it presented a considerable cost. When I think about how long it takes me to get there driving in my car, imagine the arduous journey in the late 1800s and early 1900s. It was not easy to get from San Francisco to Colma. It was a huge journey. It was an expensive journey. And it was an emotionally taxing journey to move tombstones, mausoleums, and human remains. It’s a big endeavor. There are estimates that approximately 47,000 bodies went unclaimed. When a family could not or in some instances would not pay to relocate their dead, the human remains ended up in a mass grave. In many instances a person who was buried in Laurel Hill with a proper tombstone may have ended up in an unmarked grave if the family or friends of the deceased did not fund the reinterment. 

Kennedy was originally buried in Laurel Hill and it is now believed that she is in Cypress Lawn. The reason I say “believed” is because I have located a family mausoleum and her mother’s separate burial site. But, I have gained access to her official internment records which are incomplete–this is something I cover in great detail in my book. So the first time I went to Cypress Lawn about five years ago, I was looking for her grave because so many of the interviews I conducted placed her there. From those interviews, people generously offered me directions to a beautiful obelisk that says Kennedy. Yet, the tombstone does not say Kate, there are no dates, and there is no other text besides the surname Kennedy. I have some ideas about her final resting place; however, I do not yet have definitive proof that this is in fact where Kennedy was relocated to after leaving Laurel Hill, but again those specific details will be shared once my book is in print. I can say that there are some really cool groups in San Francisco who hold events at this gravesite to honor Kennedy’s legacy. They are doing amazing work to ensure she is not lost from the historic records. To that end, I am energized by the treasure hunt that is archival research, so I returned to Cypress Lawn to see if they had any public-facing documents or records about this particular burial site on their property. The front desk staff member asked me for a name and either the birth or death date. They told me that the only Kate Kennedy they have records for died in 1990. And I replied that I was looking for Kate Kennedy, who died in 1890 and perhaps the listing they have was a typo or a mistake? The exchange was cordial until this moment and I was shocked when they asked me to leave as I was not a family member. 

The more I contemplated this exchange the more surprised I was by all of it. For example, Cypress Lawn has many, many famous and infamous people buried there such as William Randolph Hearst, Gertrude Atherton, Claus Spreckels, and Calvin Simmons. Of import, the cemetery grounds include The Cypress Lawn Heritage Museum, where visitors can learn about California history, including vignettes about people buried there called “notable residents.” Thus, my confusion only amplified as to why my query about Kennedy’s death date would result in me being asked to vacate the premises. It wasn’t until about two years ago that Cypress Lawn started to acknowledge that Kate Kennedy is buried there. While I am not contesting their interment records at this time, I do have some lingering questions based on my own archival research into Kennedy’s official interment records. And to me, whether she’s there (Cypress Lawn) or not doesn’t matter significantly. What does matter to me, though, is the uncertainty and conflicting information about her final resting place as it represents another absence, which is a central motif in my book. To me, those absences are worth interrogating. It’s not to say that she isn’t buried at Cypress Lawn. It’s not to say the tombstone labeled Kennedy isn’t hers. To me, having an official record of her interment not accurately matching other accounts is a further manifestation of the way that women have been obscured–and that erasure does matter. For example, I’m agnostic, so I don’t know where I am going when the veil thins. I don’t know when I am going. I don’t know how I am going. I just know that it’s going to happen eventually. With all of that uncertainty, a popular way for the living to reconcile the unknowns of death is to have a definitive place for your remains. In this way, it disturbs me that Kennedy did not get the final resting place she wanted when her body was removed from Laurel Hill. 

Verner: So you said the grave said Kennedy. Does it not say Kate with her? 

Costello Wecker: It doesn’t. It just says Kennedy. 

Verner: Does it say her death date? 

Costello Wecker: Nope. There are no dates on it at all. 

Verner: Ah. That is interesting. 

Costello Wecker: It’s very different from her mother’s grave, which is more traditional, featuring her full name, date of birth and death, and some remarks of familial remembrance such as “loving mother.” Her sister and brother-in-law are buried in one of the mausoleums at Cypress Lawn, which again present a completely different burial style to the obelesik.

All of this uncertainty is explored in my book with a focus on interrogating the commonplace occurrence inconsistencies within historic records as it pertains to the mis/spelling of names. This is a pattern that plagues the archival materials on Kennedy. While these inconsistencies are frustrating from a research perspective, I forward the notion that it was not a coincidence that Kennedy’s name appears with myriad spellings across historical records–rather, I avow these inconsistencies are evidence of the misogynistic erasure which permeates the lack of public memory centered on Kennedy. 

Verner: I don’t know if this will be included because this is just for fun commentary, but you notice my last name is Verner. It’s theorized that my last name is actually not really a last name that existed. It’s unclear if it might be Scandinavian, but some people think that when we came to the U.S. it was changed from Werner, you know, like the German spelling with a W, to a V. It happens all the time!

Costello Wecker: Wow, I 100% get what you mean! 

Verner: I think that happens all the time. Did people spell it with a C when they were trying to spell her name as Kate Kennedy? 

Costello Wecker: Sometimes. I have seen her name spelled about 17 different ways! Sometimes with a C and some records list her as Kathleen, Katie, Catherine, and on and on. But she is Kate. 

Verner: Would you tell me about your talk, which I thought was your book, if I’m not mistaken, on Irish trailblazers in California, the story of Kate Kennedy that you conducted in California and its reception? 

Costello Wecker: The Irish Network Bay Area  invited me out to celebrate St. Brigid’s Day, which is February 1st. This year is just the second year that Ireland observed a bank holiday for St. Brigid, who was a contemporary of St. Patrick. Relatedly, Ireland has three patron saints and she is the only woman, yet she just received an official observance in 2023. Let that sink in if you will and think again about the aforementioned erasure… 

My talk focused on the value of linking the past and the present. I offered inroads for ways to link vanguard women of the past, such as Kennedy and St. Brigid to challenges we face in this current moment. I started with basically what I was just sharing with you, the fact that we still have this enduring fight for equal pay. I started by detailing evidence of the many egregious injustices and prejudice Kennedy faced throughout her professional and personal life. Next, I elucidated Kennedy’s responses and the tactics of change she employed, which I underscore as vitally relevant in this current moment. For instance, Kennedy faced criticism for never marrying or having any children–especially within the context that she was an educator. So, Madison, you might imagine my disbelief that such antiquated, limited thinking from the 1800s has cyclically reappeared in 2025 where professors and teachers alike (I include myself here) are being criticized for daring to work in education without having children by some of the highest ranking government officials in the United States. I do not have any children and that is my choice. I share this because reproductive autonomy is extraordinarily important–the decision was mine and mine alone. And, I want to share that I love being an educator—I know this is what I am supposed to be doing with my professional life—there is no doubt about it! As a professor I get the amazing luxury of working in a field that celebrates discovery, curiosity, wonder, and banter. To that point, my students are the best part of my job and I learn from them on a daily basis—I know they learn from me as well and such organic reciprocity is a joy to witness. Accordingly, my classroom space is curated to encourage a deep sense of care and community–somehow, someway, I am miraculously able to accomplish this despite the fact that I do not have children. In this way, Kennedy’s lifework reminds me that the fight continues.

Verner: Yes. 

Costello Wecker: 

In the same plenary, I traced moments in Kennedy’s life where she successfully disrupted exclusionary practices and policies. I offered examples of feminist resistance that engaged with similar motifs Kennedy’s, but in vastly different applications and genres, such as Judy Chicago’s installation artwork, “The Dinner Party, which is housed at the Brooklyn Museum. Chicago’s masterpiece is a triangular table decorated with ornate place settings featuring heavily decorated textiles, chalices, plates, etc. that are all emblazoned with vulvas and butterfly imagery. Each place setting represents a woman from history and St. Brigid is one of the 39 women who secured a seat at the table. I discussed the common phraseology that women are forced to confront in professional settings such as, “get a seat at the table”, “break the glass ceiling,” etc. I then linked Kennedy’s efforts and Chicago’s artwork to dovetail these historic examples to issues women are confronting in this exact moment in time to demonstrate how St. Brigid and Kennedy were both subjected to gender inequity during their lifetimes—but also postmortem, which painfully telegraphs how persistent misogynistic thinking is particularly in professional arenas. 

The things that came out as themes, if you will, was the fact that they both lived unapologetically in the face of rampant misogyny.  I used a lot of the advocacy and coalition building framework from the American Association of University Women, which consistently publishes statistical facts about pay inequity and retirement security. I also shared navigational tools that I employ when assessing risk (such as self-advocacy to ask for a pay increase) as well as strategies to foster coalition building. I decided to focus on coalition building as this was a cornerstone of Kennedy’s advocacy efforts for women’s and workers’rights.

Kennedy’s membership in myriad coalitions returns us to your question, “What was she like politically?” In my book I devote a chapter to forwarding my belief that Kennedy was a keen coalition builder as she understood such formations were powerful mechanisms to enact change. Further, I contend that Kennedy did not create coalition as a way to merely advance her goals; rather, she understood that successful, sustained, longitudinal advocacy must be rooted in broad-based coalition building as this framework fosters a critical lens from which encourages members must examine who is already involved in the cause and who else needs to be added or included within the coalition. For her part, Kennedy formed coalition with the US woman suffrage movement, the single tax movement, and with groups committed to countering anti-immigration, anti-Irish, anti-Catholic prejudice. 

Verner: Yeah. She’s a Catholic Irish and what I would call today feminist. I don’t know if she’s self-identified with that term. 

Costello Wecker: It’s interesting. She was Catholic and then she did not want a Catholic funeral. 

Verner: Really? 

Costello Wecker: Yep. 

Verner: That’s such a fascinating end of her history. Did she question her views? Is that the implication of that, or do we not know? 

Costello Wecker: That’s the last piece of the book that I’m unsettled on, or not unsettled per se, but it is a section that I am still metabolizing as the exploration of another person’s faith and/relationship with religion is a complex undertaking that demands patience and immense care. I’ve had the great opportunity to meet some of Kennedy’s living family in Ireland who generously welcomed me into their ancestral home–so I feel a closeness to Kennedy by meeting those who are her relatives. Yet, the religion piece is something I am still navigating and unpacking. I have documentation that she did not want a Catholic funeral, those details of original research feature prominently in the manuscript–so I will land at a conclusion on this aspect of her life eventually–and that is the mystery and magnificence of archival research! 

I have been lucky enough to access some materials from local parishes that I know she was connected to at some point in her life, which has been illuminating. For instance, my research has helped paint a picture of her final wishes in that I have documentation to verify that there was some “ceremony” after her death, but it was not last rites and it was not a formal burial. It seems in life and death Kennedy operated on her own terms, which reifies her commitment to gender equity. More specifically, I believe as she faced her own mortality, the marginalization of women in the Catholic Church came into sharper focus–espeically in that women are prevented from holding any positions of power. I cannot imagine that history sitting well with Kennedy given that she devoted her life to securing women’s and workers’ rights via gender pay parity and protection from arbitrary dismissal or demotion. I refuse to usurp Kennedy’s voice, but I do want to understand her spirituality in a more concrete way, which I am delighted to share that a recent archival discovery has blown open this aspect of her life, but this aspect of my book is still in an inchoate stage, but I am energized by this new angle. I think that change in faith is something a lot of people experience. There is something timeless and universal here that many people would understand. 

Verner: Yeah. You don’t know what her reasoning is, and obviously one thing you discussed earlier was the influence of the Catholic Church within Ireland affecting politics. Just generally, is it out of protest? Is it out of personal views? I guess it’s hard to know without a lot of details from family memories that make sense. 

Costello Wecker: Her mother, Eliza kept a really extensive journal and I have some excerpts from that document. It is noted that the family left Ireland during An Gorta Mór, but their reasons for doing so were largely political in nature. Eliza noted that the British were exporting food while the Irish were starving and she questioned, “how could this be a Christian land?” I mention this as in the midst of the mid 1800s, while the great hunger was ravaging Ireland, Kate Kennedy’s mother, who had just been recently widowed, was thinking about her faith. I’m wondering if, as a family, they had a more scholarly perspective on theology, but that’s something I’m still investigating.  

Verner: Yes. I feel like at the time there were only different sects of Christianity you could be a part of within the United States. It’s interesting that she didn’t want to have the ceremonial rights of the Catholic Church. I’d love to hear more about your chapter within Misogyny in American Culture: Causes, Trends, and Solutions called “Fashion Forward? 

Costello Wecker: My grandmother, Elaine Charlton Dougherty, was born in 1913. When she was about thirteen years old she started working full time as a model in New York City. Her first job was as a Macy’s Deb model, and she was making more money than her father was a seasoned professional. She dropped out of school and made her living doing high fashion modeling. Growing up I was in awe of my grandmother because she was meticulous and I do not mean just her looks, she had this poise and presence of self that fascinated me. She dressed in equal parts couture, avant-garde, homemade, and self-styled looks. She did not dress to impress anyone, rather she used fashion as a rhetorical device to telegraph her stance on the economy, politics, gender, and beyond–to her style was a potent communicator–far more interesting than mere fads or trends. Personal style and fashion was something that was always of interest to me, not just because of her, but I loved looking at Vogue magazine, and I loved seeing the creative process inherent in producing a runway show and seasonal collections. Then, when I was an undergraduate, the series Sex in the City premiered, and that show was a major moment in terms of defining my own sense of style through sartorial choices. The show’s costume designer Patricia Fields, was brilliant in that styled clothes in a way that they became the characters in their own right. 

But fashion and clothing choices were not always a source of joy for me. I was a college student in the late 1990s, which was a time when reports of sexual assault were frequently met with a refrain akin to “what was she wearing?” It would be decades before “believe women” entered the vernacular. So, when the call went out for the collection, I wanted to contribute a chapter that interrogated how misogyny functions within the beauty and fashion industries. Fashion is an art form and it is also a rich, complex text. Thus, I centered my chapter around the question, “can you appreciate the artwork while simultaneously being repulsed by the artist?” Two designers emerged, Karl Lagerfeld, lead designer at Chanel (1983-2019) and Lee Alexander McQueen (1992-2010) of his eponymous line, Alexander McQueen because their work spoke to me from a design perspective, but their worldviews were in stark contrast to my own. I started looking at what I loved about their creations while also critiquing how both of them were deeply misogynistic. One example was an ad campaign for an Alexander McQueen collection that I really loved as it had a Vivienne Westwood punk vibe with shocking plaids, grommets, and buckles all utilized in super unexpected ways. The collection drew on the fields of history and literature, which spoke to me as a professor and feminist rhetorician. But the majority of the print ads were forms of forniphilia where women’s bodies were contorted into furniture in a way that made them appear as voiceless, inanimate objects that existed to serve the user and viewer. Now this was a moment where I tried to reconcile my moral compass (on a large scale) in relation to my adoration for fashion. 

This then extended into the current climate crisis we are witnessing. Fashion plays a large role in environmental degradation by fostering an insatiable desire to be “on trend.” This fuels a rabid form of consumerism through the advent of fast fashion. As a counter to fast fashion, I seek out vintage clothing in an attempt to not participate in funding businesses that ignore equitable work conditions and disregard fair pay practices, which serendipitously connect back to Kennedy’s efforts. I am still trying to figure out my own relationship with fashion, but this chapter was an opportunity to metabolize my own position on what is acceptable and what is not within the industry. I started going through and historically tracking the ways that fashion encourages us to adorn ourselves when in actuality these practices are a form of contortion. I also documented trends in the beauty industry that were popular at various times but were also highly toxic such as makeup products that were laden with harmful substances and heavy metals including lead, mercury, and arsenic. 

Thus, that chapter was trying to demolish fossilized mantles of misogyny. In this way, I was able to flip the script and gently force readers to entertain misogyny within the frame of artistry. Then I offered myriad schemas to consider like: as a consumer, if you’re buying an a Alexander McQueen garment which was marketed with advertisements that feature forniphilia, such a women being bent into impossible positions such as coffee tables with a male model putting his boot on their necks, then what are you actually buying? What worldview is your purchase amplifying? And how do you feel when you wear a sweater that was sold via misogynistic advertisements? 

Verner: That’s a fascinating topic to discuss, and it’s one that is really difficult because fashion is just the clothes we wear that we all have to wear. Almost all industries, including fashion, are often dominated by men, and so you get a lot of very questionable people as well as trends. The environmental component is definitely true as well. 

Costello Wecker: Well, think about Britney Spears’ first music video, when she appeared not as a musketeer, but dressed in a modified, I would argue Catholic-style school uniform. That video catapulted her into homes across the globe and everything about the little cardigan and the plaid skirt she is wearing are hyper-sexualized. 

Verner: I went to a Catholic school. It’s definitely true that it’s hyper-sexualized in our culture. I think Britney Spears’ music video is a very good example of that. Her shirt is very short in both directions. I’d love to hear about your experiences as a co-chair of both Building Coalition Across Commonplaces and Living Feminist Lives: Materialities, Methodologies, and Practices. 

Costello Wecker: I was talking earlier about Kate Kennedy’s work and her commitment to coalition building. But, honestly, I would not have survived my Ph.D. without this feminist practice. A pivotal moment in my doctoral work was when I first attended the Feminisms and Rhetorics conference, which is held biennially. Feminisms and Rhetorics is the most welcoming and enriching site of professional development, supportive collaboration, and intellectual discovery. I was fortunate to be asked to serve as a co-chair of the Feminist workshop as part of another conference called the Conference on College Composition and Communication and sponsored by the Coalition of Feminist Scholars in the History of Rhetoric and Composition. The workshops are structured thematically and invite participants to tackle some of the thornier themes and trends within the field. 

 One of the most important things about those workshops is they always conclude with tangible action items. As a coalition, we strive to amplify impactful change within our discourse community. We endeavor to have initiatives. We look around the room and we say, who’s not here? How do we include more of those voices? The workshops allow us to come together to ask what work has been done already and where do we need to go next as a field? Collectively how do we make that happen? I think embracing such recursivity is really important if we are to achieve truly multivocal, inclusive spaces within the profession.

Verner: That’s the only way we’re going to be able to have more scholars with more perspectives who can influence the field and understand topics more deeply. Obviously, you talked about how your professor or your PhD lead helped you get introduced to this part of feminist literature and history within Irish Studies. Now, you are creating your own studies on Kate Kennedy and just building on that work, and that’s really inspirational. 

Costello Wecker: These workshops have a unique spirit of intellectual generosity. When I first attended as a graduate student, I couldn’t believe that a scholar who wrote an article or a book that changed my life was present and willing to think and learn alongside me in community. It’s like Judy Chicago’s “Dinner Table” we all gathered around a communal table. Such connectivity celebrates experiential knowledge alongside professional expertise in a gentle and invitational manner. As a first generation college student this was invaluable because I often felt that everyone was smarter than me–that I am evergreen. 

Verner: I don’t think that’s true.

Costello Wecker: Ah, thank you! But even in the moments when I feel there is still so much I do not know, I am buoyed by the blossoming of intellectual and emotional labor that happens within these workshops–it is an important reminder that having more to learn is a magnificent gift. 

Verner: Do you support our project for a Women’s AP U.S. History course?

Costello Wecker: Yeah! I wholeheartedly support it. Something I love about this project is the way in which it locates a major educational gap and disrupts the status quo by radically amplifying the achievements of women. Further, without lines of study such as the proposed Women’s AP U.S. History course, certain historical voices will continue to be suppressed and undervalued. The inclusion of this course into the library AP educational credits will reify women’s contributions while also improving access to innovative curricula, which I care about deeply. Let me offer a visual example of how enthusiastic I am about this course; I previously mentioned my interest in fashion, well, I am so devoted to this project that I am prepared to design and wear custom sweater vests that read “I love AP US Women’s History Courses” everyday until this dream is reality. On the back, it would say, “Ask me about it!” This project dares to query, “who is not represented?” and then advances the conversation by providing a robust answer. To be honest, and you can print this, I am pants-crapping excited!

Verner: I love that! I feel the same way. I think this is an incredible project, and I was lucky enough to have teachers who were passionate about women’s history in my high school. However, I don’t think most schools have that, and it’s also not a required part of the curriculum. Most women’s classes are not going to naturally come about in high school curriculums. I see this as such an exciting project. I am so glad to be working on it, and I am so glad to have interviewed you!

Costello Wecker: I will tell you one more thing that makes me think about educational access, curricular design, and the importance of this course. When you think canonically about literature there are endless anthologies to choose from such as Norton, The Riverside Collection, and the Field Day (not an exhaustive list). As a professor of Irish Studies, the Field Day Anthology of Irish Writing is like a family member, but our relationship is not without issues. More specifically, the first three volumes only sparsely included women writers. It wasn’t until volumes IV and V that women were appropriately included–and that caveat is important. While I appreciate that the anthology eventually course corrected with the publication of volumes IV and V, the sting of exclusion ignites every time I look at my bookshelf and see those volumes bringing up the rear like a caboose on a long train. It is hard to gaze upon volumes IV and V and not think that in some ways they were an afterthought.  

Verner: You haven’t heard of their other interviews, but you remind me of one of the other people I interviewed who her entire project is just researching women that nobody has ever heard of. They’re all regular women who happen to do great things, but are never talked about. That’s the same with Kate Kennedy, and I’m honestly surprised I’ve never heard of her because I literally live in San Francisco. She basically created the tenure system, and she won Supreme Court cases. 

Costello Wecker: She fought for (and won) the right to gender pay parity! A thing that keeps me enthralled by Kennedy’s life’s work is the idea that she took on this issue way back in 1874. In this way Kennedy’s legacy is a beacon of hope, but also a reminder as to the importance of the Women’s AP U.S. History course. My wish is that my book will help introduce the world to the legendary and persistent agitator that was Kate Kennedy–because sometimes we all need to be loud and make some noise. 

Verner: You gotta be. 

Wecker: You’re not wrong. 

Verner: Well, thank you so much. 

Wecker: Thank you!