Women's History Month (Women of the Month) - 3/24

Cove woman turns love of physical fitness into a thriving business helping others

BY JOHN CLARK HERALD CORRESPONDENT

KEMPNER — Years ago, when longtime Copperas Cove school teacher Trish Stoddard lived in California, she was overweight, out of shape, and none too happy about it.

Today, the mother of five and grandmother of five is not only a picture of physical fitness she is a personal trainer, group instructor, and owner of Sweat at Cove Fitness in Copperas Cove, a family-owned facility with around 1,000 members that includes treadmills, free weights, ellipticals, state-of-theart machines, two group fitness studios, an indoor cycling studio, tanning beds, saunas jacuzzis and a juice bar.

When she bought the business three years ago, it was literally a dream come true.

“My dream has always been to own a gym — always,” said Stoddard, an educator for 27 years who finished her career teaching physics and coaching the swim team at Copperas Cove HighSchool and took over the gym in 2021.

Born in Reno, Nevada, Trish graduated from high school in El Dorado Hills, California in 1985. After getting married, having a couple of children, gaining weight and finding it difficult to lose, she joined a gym, started a nutrition counseling program, and participated in step aerobics.

“I had kind of an ‘aha mo-

her now ex-husband to Fort Hood (Fort Cavazos) and they moved to Central Texas. As soon as she arrived, she started looking for a gym and found Ace Athletics, which was located in the Town Square shopping center and later moved to its new location and renamed Sweat at Cove Fitness

As determined as she was to get in shape, like a lot of people she struggled sometimes

“I must admit, I was on a rollercoaster back then,” Trish said. “You know, life gets in the way and so you stop going to the gym. Then you start back; then you stop; then you start again. Then, the girl at Ace Athletics asked me did I want to teach a step aerobics class. I was, like, ‘I don’t know how to teach step aerobics.’

“She said she would teach me, and once I started teaching classes, it was like, ‘I don’t feel like going to the gym but I have to because I have to teach my class.’ That helped keep me more motivated and more consistent.

“One class tur ned into five, which turned into 19 classes a week (she currently teaches).”

Finding success in the quest for physical fitness takes two primary things, Trish says: consistency and patience

ment,’” Trish said, “and decided I needed to do something.” She was making progress when the U.S. Ar my assigned

“A lot of people know they want to get fit,” she said. “They just have to take that first step and get here. That is why our sign-up room has a sign on the door that says, ‘The First Step.’

Sometimes people say, ‘I’m not sure if I want to sign up today,’ and I’m like, ‘Look, you’ve taken the first step. You got here Obviously, you want to get fit, so what’s holding you back?’

“Once you get here, consistency is the key. You don’t have to work out 10 hours a day or do a thousand burpees or anything crazy. Do a little bit every day and you get stronger and more fit. You’ll feel better and that will motivate you to do more, and eventually you’ll get to where you want to be.

“A lot of people want to get results right away. They join the gym and they’re consistent for a month or two and then they give up because they’re not getting the results they want. I ask them, “How long did it take you to gain weight?’

“They might say something like, ’Nine years.’

“OK, well, you’ve got to give yourself some time to take it off.”

Some say the hardest part about getting in shape is simply showing up. One way to find — and keep — that motivation is to figure out one’s “why.” What is the underlying reason for wanting to start an exercise program?

“A lot of people are motivated by the aesthetics of physical fitness — they want to look good — but as you get older, you start to realize it’s really about your health,” Trish said. “It’s when you go to the doctor and get your blood work and everything looks

good. It’s when I want to go with my grandkids to San Antonio and run up and down the River Walk and not be out of breath. If the kids want to go hiking, you don’t want to be, like, ‘Oh, I can’t do that.’

“Everybody is motivated by different reasons. I’ve learned over time that some people come to the gym to work hard. They want to work out; they want to sweat. Some people come to the gym because they need a break from their kids, or they want to socialize with their friends.

“It doesn’t matter what brings you in, as long as you show up and move your body. That’s the key.”

After so many years in the fitness industry, making the transition from employee to owner has been fairly smooth but not without the occasional bump in the road, Stoddard says. It has been a lot of work, but she loves it and the support and encouragement she gets from her husband of 19 years, Jeff, is a big part of helping her realize her dream.

“He supports me in every way,” Trish said. “I also couldn’t do it without my great staff

“I’ve been working at this gym for 25 years now. I went from an instructor to group fitness manager to general manager and now owner. I always thought, ‘If I ran this place, I would do it this way or that way. Now, I get to do it that way.’

“I really do hope I’ve made improvements and made it better.”

COURTESY PHOTO | TONNIA PHELPS

Trish Stoddard, a longtime Copperas Cove school teacher and now owner of the Sweat at Cove Fitness gym, teaches 19 group fitness classes a week

Killeen has the 10th largest wage gap with women compared to men

BY ERIN ESKEW HERALD CORRESPONDENT

Wage gap differences remain a hot button topic for women’s rights. TruckInfo analyzed the impact women have on the labor force and the discrepancies in their compensation.

Compared to other similarly sized metro areas, Killeen has the 10th largest wage gap with women making $0.63 for every dollar their male counterparts make, according to the study. This discrepancy means with a median income of $24,566, Killeen women make about $14,738 less than their male coworkers who report a median income of $39,304.

Only eight mid-size metro areas reported larger wage gaps, the study stated. The largest wage gap is in Irvine, California, where on average, women make $0.45 cents less per dollar than men.

Texas has the 9th largest wage gap nationwide, with women making an average of $0.30 less than men employed in the state, the study said

Although women are becoming an increasingly larger presence in the workforce, many occupations appear more favorable to one gender over the other.

The apparent gender segregation in the workforce is largely by choice showing a trend of preferences among those employed, according to Charley

Ayres, a director at Workforce Solutions of Central Texas.

“Typically the intense jobs of manual labor or involving working with ‘things’ rather than working with ‘people’ tend to attract males,” Ayres said. “This is consistent across the globe.”

Nationally, women make up 97.4% of elementary education, 95.2% of childcare workers, 94.3% of executive administrative assistants, 93.1% of dental assistants, 93% of administrative assistants, about 91% of medical assistants and medical records, 89.5% of veterinary

technicians, 89.3% of infor mation clerks, and 89% of the beauty industry Male-dominated fields include welding, soldering and brazing where women make up 5.3% of the field; women make up 5% of the firefighter field; 4.2% of machinists; 4.1% of industrial and refractory machinery mechanics; 4% of maintenance and repair workers; 3.8% of first-line supervisors of construction trades; 3.5% of construction laborers; 2% of electricians; 1.9% of carpenters; and 1.6% of automotive service technicians and mechanics. Discrepancies in wages tend to correlate with occupational choices and not gender, Ayres said. “For example, one of the fastest-growing industries in the Killeen-Temple Metro is Health Care and Social Assistance,” Ayres said. “This industry sector on average also provides the highest average wages. Taking into consideration that of the 23,777 jobs in the industry, 77.4% of these jobs are held by females, and in our region salaries are above the national

average.”

The national annual earnings average for these jobs is $75,276, Ayres said, while in the KilleenTemple Metro area, the average earnings are $100,571.

“Education is another industry that is dominated by females,” Ayres said. “More times than not, when you find these discrepancies, it is related to occupation and not gender However, there is strong evidence in many industries of a ‘skills gap.’

However, in female-dominated fields, national statistics show women continue to make less than men, even in fields that are typically female-dominated. Women make $0.74 less per dollar ear ned than men in childcare, $0.76 less per dollar earned in medical records, $0.79 less per dollar ear ned as dental assistants, $0.81 less per dollar earned in the beauty industry, $0.85 less per dollar ear ned as secretaries and administrative assistants, $0.87 less per dollar earned as receptionists and infor mation clerks, $0.88 less per dollar ear ned as veterinary technicians, $0.89 less per dollar earned in elementary education, $0.92 less per dollar ear ned as medical assistants, $1.06 less per dollar ear ned as executive secretaries or executive administrative assistants

For more information, go to: https://www.truckinfo.net/research/cities-and-states-withthe-biggest-wage-gap.

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to Killeen on State Highway 195. With a median income of $24,566, Killeen women make

less than their male coworkers who report a median income of $39,304, according to a study.

Their children disappeared in Argentina’s dictatorship; these mothers have looked for them since

BY MARÍA TERESA HERNÁNDEZ ASSOCIATED PRESS

BUENOS AIRES, Argentina — Fortyseven years ago, before her hair tur ned white and she had no need of a wheelchair to march around Argentina’s most iconic square, Nora Cortiñas made a promise to her son who disappeared: She would search for him until her last breath.

Her commitment sums up the driving force of Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, a human rights organization created by women whose children were kidnapped by the military dictatorship that ruled Argentina from 1976 to 1983.

With time, their fight became a symbol of hope and resistance. Their wounds are shared by thousands who protest every year, on March 24, to remember the beginning of the bloodiest period of their country’s history

“They represent the fearless fight of a lot of women who, at all costs, sought the tools to deliver a message,” said Carlos Álvarez, 26, during a recent protest against Argentine President Javier Milei. “None of my relatives disappeared, and I still empathize with their struggle.”

Milei, a right-wing populist who took power in 2023, has minimized the severity of the repression during the dictatorship, alleging that human rights organizations’ claim of 30,000 disappearances during that period is false.

Long before Milei, when the military ruled, mothers like Cortiñas were discredited as “crazy” and “terrorists,” but their quest to lear n what happened to their children never ceased.

Week after week, since April 1977, Mothers of Plaza de Mayo have gathered at the square that provided the group

with its name. Together with Argentines who hurt with injustices of their own, they meet each Thursday, at 3:30 p.m., and circle around Plaza de Mayo’s pyramid.

“The story of my life is the story of all Mothers of Plaza de Mayo,” said Cortiñas, who will soon turn 94. “We don’t know anything about our children. A disappearance means you don’t know anything; there is no way to explain it.”

Her eldest son, Gustavo, was 24 when he disappeared on his way to work.

An admirer of Evita Perón, he was a militant of Montoneros, a Peronist guerrilla organization whose members were targeted by the military in the 1970s.

“When they took my son, on April 15, 1977, I went out to look for him and I encountered other mothers whose children had also been kidnapped,” Cortiñas said. Filled with uncertainty, Cortiñas and other mothers held their first gatherings at a local church where the bishop offered nothing but disdain. Frustrated, one of them said: “Enough, we need to

gain visibility.” They headed to Plaza de Mayo, where the presidential office is located, and where police unexpectedly provoked their symbolic march around the square A state of emergency was in place, preventing Argentines from gathering, so police officers screamed at them: “Move, ladies, move!”

And so, in pairs, crying silently without knowing that they would come

Members of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo protest in San Martin Square in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Nov. 21, 1977

MOTHERS

back every Thursday for the rest of their lives, the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo walked.

THE STORY BEHIND THEIR WHITE SCARVES

By October 1977, when Mothers of Plaza de Mayo decided to join a pilgrimage to the city of Luján, most of them felt let down by the Catholic Church.

Though they sought the church’s help and comfort, many of their once trusted priests told them to go home and pray. To gain exposure, one mother suggested carrying a pole with a blue or red cloth, but another replied that it wouldn’t be visible. “Let’s use one of our children’s diapers to cover our heads,” another mother said. “We all keep at least one of them, right?” And they all did.

After the pilgrimage, while other parishioners prayed for the pope, the sick and the very same priests who turned their back on them, the mothers prayed for the disappeared Cortiñas treasures the scarf she wore that day. She has had four or five scarves since then, with her son’s name embroidered in blue thread.

“It makes me very proud, knowing they bear Gustavo’s name,” Cortiñas said. “He was a fighter, one of those who are necessary nowadays to change the world.”

Cortiñas never leaves her home without her white scarf. She mostly wears it during the Thursday march at Plaza de Mayo, but she always keeps it inside her handbag, next to a picture of Gustavo that she hangs from her neck at public events.

The scarves have multiplied over four decades. They can be seen on murals,

tiles, pins and protest signs

“I see them, and I feel hope,” said Luz Solvez, 36, on a recent day in Buenos Aires. “It is a symbol that summarizes part of our history. All the cruelty, how horrible it was, but also how they (the Mothers) took it on the side of justice instead of revenge.”

A few years ago, Graciela Franco’s daughter asked her to get identical tattoos. Franco wanted it “to be something truly meaningful.” Now, mother and daughter have a row of scarves on their forearms

Since 2017, Franco has worked with ceramist Carolina Umansky on a project called “ 30 Thousand Scarves for Memory,” which honors the 30,000 people who disappeared during the dictatorship They have produced and given away 400 ceramic tiles with images of scarves to symbolize the Mothers’ fight and the need for historic memory. Their hope is that the tiles be placed in plain sight, particularly at entrances to homes

“The idea is that they permanently generate a question,” Umansky said. “That anyone who looks at them asks: Why is this scarf in this house?”

A MOTHER WILL NEVER LOSE HOPE

Taty Almeida’s feels as if her old self — the one before her son Alejandro, 20, went missing — is gone. His disappearance so profoundly changed her that it’s as if she’s been rebor n in her despair and search for him.

“Alejandro gave birth to me,” Almeida, 93, said. “I am happy to have given birth to my three children, but Ale gave birth to me.”

She was unaware of her son’s militant connections when he vanished in June 1975. She was a deeply Catholic woman, raised by an Argentine general, who wrongfully blamed the Peronists for his disappearance. “I couldn’t think that my acquaintances (the military) were the culprits,” Almeida said. “I went to them, but never

got any help.”

For four years, she looked for her son on her own. It wasn’t until 1979 that she found the courage to approach the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo.

With her background, she worried they would think she was a spy. But once inside the house that they used as a headquarters, no one asked her political affiliation, religion or personal views. Just the one question all aching mothers were asked: “Who are you missing?”

“When they touched the most precious thing a woman has, a child, we went out like crazy, as they called us, to scream, to raise questions, to look for our children,” Almeida said.

Her faith is not lost but changed. Though she no longer attends Mass and is aware of the complicity that the Catholic Church played during the dictatorship, she still believes in God.

After 48 years of searching, she wears her white scarf to all protests and shares her story with journalists and younger generations, who she trusts will take the lead once the Mothers are all gone.

“I’m sure that Alejandro is very proud of me,” Almeida said. “That gives me strength.”

She wonders what he would look like today. Perhaps now, at age 69, would his curly hair have turned gray? Would he wear glasses? Would he have given her grandchildren?

“I always say that Alejandro is present, but no. He is gone.”

Even so, she says, there will always be hope and the fight does not end.

Argentine forensic anthropologists are identifying more and more remains of people who disappeared during the dictatorship. If they were to find Alejandro’s remains, she could finally grieve, bring him flowers, pray to him.

“I don’t want to leave without first, at least, being able to touch Alejandro’s bones.”

NATACHA PISARENKO | AP Nora Cortinas, 94, wears a photo of her disappeared son Gustavo as she poses for a portrait on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, Argentina, on Jan. 29

EDUARDO DI BAIA AP

Mothers of Plaza de Mayo protest the disappearances of their children outside the Casa Rosada presidential o ce in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on April 27, 1995.