On October 24, 2007, five wives of five presidential candidates participated in a discussion at the California Governor and First Lady’s Conference on Women. In the opening address, hostess and California first lady Maria Shriver emphasized the event’s importance.

“What you are witnessing up here is history,” she told the audience. “I want you to understand the magnitude of what you’re seeing.” The screen providing the backdrop for the five women’s discussion featured the glowing words, “Architects of Change.” Both Shriver’s introduction and the event’s title told the audience at the outset that what these women have to say matters a great deal. The value of their contribution to public discourse was left to them to demonstrate.

The discussion had little to do with the roles these women might play in the public sphere. The women told us about the joys and hardships of campaign trail life, the extent to which they advise (not at all) and support (unwaveringly) their husbands, their love for every American, and their thoughts on the pressures faced by all women, even, as Michelle Obama, wife of Illinois Senator Barack Obama said, “regular folks.”

My surprise in watching the event was not simply due to the frivolity of these topics but also that the audience was expected to understand that in a conversation with the spouses of five prominent candidates, these topics are perceived to be of greater interest than the presidential race itself.

Perhaps we should not expect the women to discuss the political issues that dominate their husbands’ presidential debates, but it is odd that the discussion elicited so little critical thinking about the significance of candidates’ spouses in the race itself. After all, an event dedicated to potential first ladies which is apparently significant enough to make the national news would seem to have included more substantial issues.

But the women were reluctant to dwell on the idea that they have public relevance. When Jeri Thompson, wife of former Tennessee Senator Fred Thompson, confessed that her “biggest fear” is “embarrassing Fred,” Elizabeth Edwards, wife of former North Carolina Senator John Edwards, reassured her that “Nobody is paying that much attention to us.” Most of the women downplayed their influence in public affairs and denied having anything to do with the advisement of their husbands on matters of strategy. Curiously, they said this even when this is not apparently the case. For example, Mrs. Edwards blogs for her husband and makes frequent appearances on television. Yet, one would not know this fact from this conference, which is perhaps telling about the persona they wish to portray as opposed to the kinds of actions they participate in on a less public level. More ostensive humility was echoed: Said Thompson, a former employee of the Republican Senate Conference and Republican National Committee, “I’m not even qualified.”

From this conference, apparently the only reason to listen to these women is to hear about their behind-the-scenes campaign experiences. Thompson had a baby-changing table installed into her husband’s tour bus; Cyndi McCain, wife of Arizona Senator John McCain, described “the wonder and beauty” of what campaigning has done for her marriage.

Only towards the end of an hour-long display of likeability did the women discuss the effect their activity in public life might have on the election. “It doesn’t matter how much anyone likes us,” said Edwards. When McCain contested, “They do look at you very carefully, and your families,” Edwards added, “That’s ’cause it tells them something about him — the extent to which he is the good father, coaches soccer, plays with [the children.]” Though Edwards admitted that the question of her relevance is “something I struggle with,” she was referring to a private issue, her struggle to justify “spending time away from my children” to campaign with her husband. Only Obama indicated a specific good that could come of the public attention devoted to the candidates’ spouses in the event’s most serious moment. “We can get Congress to really think critically about campaign funding,” she told her. “That’s on us.” But Obama does not explicate on how their position can necessarily give them the agency to do such.

Though people may not pay that much attention to them, these women nonetheless do have public influence. The women acknowledged this attention, but, Obama’s point aside, they were hesitant to regard themselves as anything other than the messengers of their husband’s family man qualities. Beyond this, the five women apparently had little interest in commenting on why an event dedicated to their discussion labeled them “Architects of Change.”

If the women themselves do not ask these questions, neither does the press in its coverage of the event, and neither do voters — at least not immediately. When the presidential race begins as early as this one did, it is to be expected that no one pay that much attention to the candidates or their spouses. At Columbia, our own political issues take center stage, and I doubt that many students have enough time to follow CNN’s coverage of John Edwards’ haircuts.

It is nearly impossible to avoid the media’s coverage of all the supposedly relevant aspects of a campaign: personal affairs, faux pas, statements of the candidate’s spouses. Oftentimes, it is up to us to take a step back and question why it is that we may like or dislike a candidate, and how these preferences may unconsciously reinforce our perception of gender roles in society. And if these women unabashedly take a back seat role in the husband’s campaigns, it is no wonder that our gender perceptions are such as they are.