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Stay-at-home moms don’t need a defense

A Day in the Life of a Wartime Housewife. By Ministry of Information Photo Division Photographer [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

All day yesterday, I kept seeing this post cropping up. It’s essentially yet another defense of stay-at-home motherhood, complete with elevating the role of Wife and Mother to a status nearly equal to the heavenly host. There is nothing more guaranteed to make my blood boil than some misguided person thinking the answer to disparaging stay-at-home moms is to do just the opposite.

Before I get to what’s wrong here, I do want to point out what Matt Walsh got right. I could die happy if I never again had to hear either of these phrases:

What do you DO all day?

and

I would be SO BORED!

I’ve heard them before. A lot. And yes, it does make me feel small. Unappreciated. Undervalued. It makes me think those people either didn’t put in much effort when they were home or like they think I lie on the sofa eating bonbons and watching The View (gross; as if) because I have nothing better to do with my time. Yes, I do want desperately to tell every single person who has ever said those things to me to go fuck off. I don’t (usually), but I’d like to.

You know what’s just as bad, though?

Telling women that they’re not spending enough time with their kids. Telling women that being a WifeMommy is the most important thing she’ll ever do. Telling women they need husbands and children to be happy, fulfilled, and productive. Telling professional women that they are so expendable that no one will miss them at work if they leave.

Here are some of the things Matt Walsh got wrong:

1. Staying home is super hard work.

Unless your spouse thinks it’s the at-home parent’s job to do 100% of the housework, yard work, and childcare–24/7–there are definitely moments of down time. When my kids were tiny, nap time was my best friend. That’s not to say parenting and chores aren’t hard, just that it’s not some endless parade of labor. Matt Walsh did comment that there’s some down time, as there is in many other jobs. However, he also spend a fair number of paragraphs ranting about how “hard” staying home is. Parenting and caring for the household do involve a lot of work, but there’s no need to go overboard and act like I’m doing heavy construction all day.

2. Parenting isn’t a “job.”

I need to vent for a moment about “words mean things.” I could write an entire blog post–maybe even a series–on this craptastic view. Words have the meaning we attach to them–not some platonic ideal meaning. We use the word “job” in all sorts of ways. “I have a job to do!” doesn’t necessarily mean for pay. “That’s not my job!” doesn’t have anything to do with getting paid either. So stop insisting that stay-at-home moms do not have a “job” to do. We do. So do moms who work outside the home. So do dads. It’s just another way to make sure we separate people into the categories where we think they belong. It’s another way to disparage both at-home parents and work-outside-the-home parents.

3. At-home moms belong on a pedestal.

We are not special. We are not better. I’m not interested in being elevated above anyone else. It puts me in some untouchable place where I can’t have a shitty day when I don’t even have the energy to take a shower and I feed my child Ritz crackers and string cheese for lunch so I don’t have to cook. Up on that pedestal is a magical fairy land where sick moms push through the pain to make sure that the laundry is done and the house sparkles and the kids look like glossies in a magazine. In that land, the awesome craft project on page 9 of Family Fun always turns out just like the picture, and I sew my kids’ Halloween costumes by hand. I don’t know about other stay-at-home moms, but I sure as hell don’t live in that place.

4. Moms are irreplaceable.

Well, okay, we’re not easily replaced. But working outside the home is not the same thing as having a mother die or abandon her family. What a horrid comparison. I know lots and lots of women who have paid, outside-the-home jobs. They are amazing moms! They haven’t been “replaced” by anyone. The other problem here is that it erases stay-at-home dads. Please, tell me again how only mommy can take care of the kids. I think I must have forgotten that daddies are just glorified babysitters. Never mind families that have two daddies. Or is this the universe where one of them must be pretending to be “the girl” in that relationship?

5. Someone, somewhere, has said it’s “ideal” for moms to spend less time with their kids.

I have never heard even one person say this. Sure, I’ve heard the aforementioned comments about being home. But no one has suggested that the world would be a better place if women just got off their asses and went to the office for a few hours a day.

My biggest problem with the whole post can be summed up with this quote:

Yes, she is just a mother. Which is sort of like looking at the sky and saying, “hey, it’s just the sun.”

What is implied here is that mothers, like the sun, are the center of everything. A woman’s value becomes tied to her status as WifeMommy, the person around whom the entire family solar system revolves. It ignores real women and real life in favor of an ideal, an image of the perfect family. Central to this view is the belief that a true family looks a lot like a 1950s television show. If WifeMommy is the Sun, then there isn’t any room for stay-at-home dads or same-sex couples or single parents or couples without children or unpartnered people without children or grandparents raising their grandkids. Those family situations and structures fall outside the boundaries of what is good and right, and we can therefore justify denying help, care, or solutions when the need arises.

It’s time we stopped trying to make a case for a return to a rose-tinted view of a by-gone era. This is the way individuals and families live in 2013. It’s like going out in the rain without an umbrella and demanding that it stop raining because you’re getting wet. Are there issues that can come up because of the changes in family structure? Sure. Not because those changes are bad but because they are different. “Different” doesn’t require fixing; it requires new strategies. Instead of arguing over who’s more deserving of a pedestal, let’s sit down together and figure out how we can do this thing called life together.

Two Secrets

Friendship

We sit on her bed, talking about our hair. She pulls out a magazine and shows me a picture, says she’s going to get her hair cut like the model. I shrug. My hair is too fine and straight to look cute in that style, but her thick waves would look perfect. I tell her so, and she giggles.

We’re quiet for a few minutes, and then she says, “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” I say.

“You’ll think I’m weird.”

“Weirder than I already do?”

She grabs her pillow and hits me with it. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I say again.

She leans over the side of the bed and pulls out a box. Inside, there are half a dozen Barbies. I can feel my heart pounding. Does she know about me?

She hauls the box onto the bed and hands me one with a sparkling pink dress and bare feet. She apologizes; she tells me she lost the shoes ages ago. I take the Barbie.

We play for a long time, this game we should have given up years ago when we started buying our own ninety-nine-cent lip gloss from the corner drug store. It feels good to slide back into our past together–to have someone to share this secret with.

She says, “Want to have a wedding? I think I still have all the dresses and stuff at the bottom of the box.” She rummages around.

“Who’s going to get married?”

She shrugs. “Um…how about these two?” She holds up a doll with unnatural red hair and one with a set of painted-on tan lines.

I make a face. “But they’re both girls.”

She huffs. “Well, I don’t have a Ken.”

“I could bring mine next time,” I offer.

“Okay. But for now, these two can get married. Anyway, it’s legal.”

“True.”

We hold a wedding ceremony for them, complete with a Smurfette figurine as the flower girl. There aren’t enough dolls to fill our makeshift church, so we line the bed with stuffed animals to serve as witness to this momentous occasion.

When we’re through, we carefully lay the Barbies back in their cardboard prison, and she gets up to slide it back under the bed. I lay on my back, staring upside down at the poster above her headboard. It’s that girl who was on some reality music show last year, and she has it in exactly the same place where I keep the one of the cute boy from all those movies.

I roll over and press my cheek into her pillow, my head turned to face out into the room. She is sitting next to the bed, her knees drawn up and her head laying on her folded arms. She looks up when I shift.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” she says.

I’m pretty sure I know what it is. We’ve been friends since we were five. Slowly, I reach my hand down so I can touch her arm. Our eyes meet.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “No matter what, I’ll always be here for you.” I smile at her.

She grins back.

_________________________

Today is National Coming Out Day. I wish the story above was how it could always be, but I’m realistic enough to know it isn’t. If you’re reading, please be THIS friend.

Being a woman of confidence (part 2)

Women

Gabrielle Émilie Le Tonnelier de Breteuil, marquise du Châtelet (1706-1749), French mathematician and physicist, via Wikimedia

The other day, I asked you to tell me what you’re good at, and you delivered. Between comments here and on Twitter and Facebook, as well as private emails, I learned that we are amazingly good at all kinds of things. So what are they?

We’re good at our jobs.

No matter what we do, we do it well! You told me that you are writers, teachers, artists, doctors, nurses, lawyers, marketing professionals, dancers, accountants, bankers, childcare workers, librarians, pastors, engineers . . . the list goes on. And you love your work! You’re professional, and you do your jobs well. One woman commented on my post that she’s published 3 novels. Holy cow, what an accomplishment! I mean, I think publishing just one novel would be pretty amazing. A few weeks ago, my church celebrated the anniversary of our pastor’s ordination. I was awed by all of her accomplishments. Not once did she act like it was “no big deal” (as we’re sometimes taught to do). She accepted the thanks and accolades with grace. Way to go, professional women!

We’re good at storytelling.

I have to highlight this one because I’m a writer myself, and I’m biased towards using our words. One woman commented that her school district has The Hunger Games on the required reading list. More and more places are adding in great works by women. It may not be enough yet, but it’s a start. I just finished reading A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L’Engle to my kids, and they’re eager for more. Another woman–a person of color–commented that her heritage has beauty and goodness too. I’m excited to begin delving into this richness. There is no truth to the idea that books by women or featuring women are only for women. My own son emotionally identifies just as strongly with Meg Murray as he does with Harry Potter. As it turns out, many of us say we’re pretty handy with words. Quite a lot of us blog, and some of us have wide audiences. We know how to write, and we’re not afraid to say it.

We’re good at inter- and intrapersonal skills.

Some of the great things women said they were good at:

Organization
Listening
Speaking
Offering wise words
Time management
Caretaking
Encouragement
Prayer and meditation
Budgeting

Some of you said you were good at all of those! One of the women I met in an online group has consistently said that something she’s determined to do is “show up.” She didn’t say it in response to my plea for “what are you good at,” but I think it’s a good example of one of the ways in which women are sometimes fractured. We’re spread so thin–especially in our churches–that we are no longer able to just “show up.” When we can break out of that pattern, it’s amazing what we can do.

We’re good at sex.

I wonder why no one wanted to own this one publicly in the comments? I got a few private emails from women telling me that they are, in fact, very good at sex–including one who said she’s good at giving head. (No, they weren’t propositioning; just too shy to share it outright.) I am dang proud of them for saying it! We have this idea that men are sex fiends who think even really awful sex is good. We also get this message that women are so hard to please that men ought to be focused on us in the bedroom. (I realize I’m speaking in heterosexual terms here; I’m talking about the messages we get from society, which tend to ignore people who aren’t cis-het.) It’s good to know there are women out there owning their between-the-sheets skills. Woo hoo!

We’re good at being wives, partners, and mothers.

I’m hesitant to go there, since often we’re told that’s what we should be good at, even if we’re not. A lot of us, though, seem to feel undervalued when it comes to family. We may feel appreciated by our spouses and children, but we feel marginalized everywhere else. Some women feel like their skills at nurturing are ridiculed by women who believe we’ve sold out by staying home. Some women feel like they may be excellent wives and mothers, but since it’s expected, it doesn’t get any special attention. Still others find it frustrating to only be seen as wives and mothers. Yet it’s one of the things you listed as something you’re good at, and that has beauty and worth.

I don’t want this to be the end of the road for “what are we good at.” Keep this going! Today, I have two challenges for you. First, find a woman or a girl and tell her one thing she’s good at. Second, if you are a woman, think of one thing you do well and tell someone else your truth. You can say, “You know what? I am really good at _____!” See what happens. If you take my challenge, will you email me or comment here and tell me how it went?

Pearson strikes again

Education

I do my best to stay out of most discussions about public education. My older child is having a positive experience in public school, and our family’s income depends on the public school system. I’m hesitant to say anything that would put my husband’s job at risk because of his wife making trouble. I honestly used to think that might not happen–after all, this isn’t some mob movie, right? After reading about Pearson’s latest antics, I’m not so sure it isn’t the educational version of The Godfather.

For those of you who don’t remember, Pearson is the company that brought us the Pineapple Question on the state ELA test a few years ago. (They bought the rights to a short story by Daniel Pinkwater and rewrote it in a convoluted way.) Now the New York State Attorney General is investigating whether Pearson is using their non-profit branch to influence state officials by paying for expensive trips that may include lobbying for their for-profit arm.

By now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m bringing this up. I mean, this is obviously important to me as a parent–I don’t want my children’s education corrupted from dirty dealings by a testing company. Other parents have the right to be informed as well. And really, I’m feeling pretty proud of my state for taking on Pearson. I hope they suck them dry (fat chance, but it’s a nice dream). While those are my top reasons for my interest in the subject, I do have another selfish motivation.

I don’t like to go into details about my projects very often. I find that it stifles some of my creativity and creates undue pressure on me to perform in a way I can’t always manage. But I’m going to mention it because it’s related to the article I linked above.

Last year, I started writing a story. It was going to be just for fun, something to work on whenever I felt like I was in a blogging rut. I wanted to experiment with some things I’d never written before. I happen to like updated fairy tales that don’t come off as fairy tales, so I chose the tale of the pied piper. I had in mind to give it a happy ending, because I’m cheesy like that. Anyway, I worked on it for a bit and then decided to set it aside because I’m not great with long-term projects. I figured if I really wanted to, I could pick it up again for NaNoWriMo, since I hadn’t written that much and I knew I could write another 50,000 words (and therefore not be cheating, since I had some written already).

What does this have to do with anything? The story is about underhanded dealings in public education and misuse of disciplinary action against “failing” schools.

I ended up going back to it sooner than I’d intended. I finished enough to start sending the story to beta readers so I could get some feedback on where to head with it. In one chapter, a character tells another that the underhanded dealings are not a good way to live. One of the beta readers complained in her comments that I had made it sound like a mob movie and that while “corporate takeover of a school is not ideal,” it made her roll her eyes.

Except that’s what happens.

For-profit companies (for example, Pearson) can take failing schools, create charters, and make a profit. Investors–usually wealthy donors such as the Gates Foundation–can put money into it and receive not only a tax write-off but a financial gain, sometimes as much as double what they put in. I swear I could not make this stuff up.

The worst part is that the charter schools are not better than the public schools they replaced; they’re just not as heavily regulated. Charter school teachers don’t even need to be certified because the rules applied to state-funded schools don’t apply. The idea that if schools operated on a for-profit basis they would improve due to “competition” is ridiculous. Additionally, schools can lose funding and students can suffer when wealthy investors back out suddenly (this has happened with the Gates Foundation).

Does this have the potential for people to try to game the system in order to profit from education? Absolutely.

Go ahead, beta reader, and roll your eyes. Corporate takeover isn’t “ideal”? I hope you’re unlucky enough one day to be forced to send your child to a sub-par charter school run by a for-profit Educational Management Organization.

I have no idea whether I’ll ever publish this story. I’ll let you know if I do. For now, I’m content to watch the Pearson drama unfold and pray desperately that someone takes that company down several notches. We don’t need education reform; we need a complete overhaul.

LGBTQ+, Social Justice

While I continue to collect stories of accomplished, amazing women who are proud of what they have done, I’m going to write about other things. (And if you haven’t read yesterday’s post or the comments, please do. Good stuff is happening there.)

Today, I finally had the chance to catch up with some blogs that I’ve been neglecting. Over at Registered Runaway’s blog, I read this post (and the ones preceding it; be sure to read all 4 parts). It made me sad. Then it made me angry. I still don’t understand why the way Aibird, the writer, was treated is allowed to continue.

I’ve had Christian friends try to tell me that no one still acts that way–or at least, Christians don’t. I’ve heard the arguments that anyone threatening “curative rape” isn’t a real Christian anyway. And yet, here is a woman telling her story, including receiving death threats from people professing to be Christians.

We can’t ignore the parts of the Church (worldwide) that hold hateful attitudes. They are as much a part of us as any other Christian. But that’s not actually the thing that bothers me most. It’s the fact that we’ve chosen–as the rest of the Body–not to fight them. I can’t help thinking that it’s because deep down, many Christians agree with the underlying beliefs, even if they don’t agree that picketing and threatening and even attempts at curing are the right answer.

It’s not enough anymore. I have never been of the mind that it’s okay to live somewhere halfway between being an ally and being an enemy. I’m not entirely a black-and-white thinker. I’m open to having lots of grey and wrestling with that tension. I’m willing to talk about what it means to have a healthy sexual ethic or whether it’s okay for Christians to watch violent movies or if tattoos and swearing are acceptable. We may never agree on any of those things, and that’s okay.

What I’m not okay with is fence-sitting when it comes to personhood and equality.

Too many people have come to the conclusion that they can rest comfortably with the belief that they may not “agree with the homosexual lifestyle” though they would never insist on anyone trying to be “cured.” There are far too many places where we’ve done what we seem to think is a kinder, gentler version of non-acceptance. The thing is, though, it’s still exactly that: non-acceptance. No more “But I have gay friends, and they know where I stand, and they are okay with that!” Are you sure? Because when I read stories like the one above, I get the impression that an awful lot of people aren’t actually okay with you disapproving of them, they just hide it well or have learned that it’s an off-limits topic if they don’t want to hear again about their sin. You personally may not be holding up a “God hates fags” sign, and you may not have threatened anyone with rape or death. You may not even have given anyone the phone number to a place where they can be “changed.” But if underneath it you still think they’re in sin, you hold the same beliefs as the people of ex-gay organizations and Westboro Baptist.

If you do call yourself both a Christian and an ally, then why not directly speak up against people who are doing active harm? I honestly can’t remember where I read it (or I’d link to it; maybe someone else can help me out here), but I recall reading about someone meeting with some people from Westboro Baptist and talking about how “nice” they were. Not that I want to paint anyone as evil and remove that person’s humanity, but I fail to see how “But they’re so nice!” is in any way helpful. I also don’t believe for a millisecond that there’s any use in simply leaving people to their own devices because everyone knows how hateful they are. If you really think these things are wrong, why not speak up about it? Not merely to your LGBTQ friends–who probably already know–but to the rest of the Christian community.

Things aren’t going to change. LGBTQ people are not going away, and they’re not going back into their closets. People who are Christians–whole denominations, in fact–have already become not just accepting but affirming. Laws are changing. Meanwhile, people are still being pressured and harmed. There’s no way to be somewhere in the middle anymore. That might have worked at one time, but that time has long since passed.

I already cast my vote. I know that to some people, I’m irredeemable. I’ve already been told–more than once–that I can’t call myself a Christian. I’ve been informed that I’m leading people in the wrong direction. Well, so what? I don’t consider that a big deal, and I think it’s worth it. (And let’s be honest, there are people I’m happy are out of my life because they can’t handle the fact that I’m an ally. Think of all the wonderful LGBTQ friends I’m sparing from having any interaction with them.)

I think I understand being genuinely unsure. I know there’s a transition between what we might have learned growing up or in some churches and a place of being an ally. I get that. But don’t sit there forever, and certainly don’t talk out of both sides of your mouth. Don’t fake being in agreement with either side (or both). It isn’t fair to anyone, even yourselves. Take time, but make a choice–then do something about it.

If you want to know why I feel this sense of urgency (besides the immediate concern for individuals such as the woman whose story I linked above), then read this post. It’s not just about us, about our nation, anymore. And, like Registered Runaway says at the end of the post (though I disagree that no one is fighting here anymore),

And I’m beginning to think that instead of having a conversation, a culture war truce, with Fundamentalists and right wing Evangelicals, our work would be better focused on protecting the world from the wrath of these people. Despite the lament from many progressive evangelicals, the right wing is hardly fighting here anymore. They’ve moved on. They’re going after the rest of the world.

How do we stop this?

How, indeed?

https://amleibowitz.com/2013/10/08/3303/

Being a woman of confidence

Women

This fantastic post, the words that choke me, sparked some interesting discussion among my online friends. My favorite part:

Maybe the other half of the story is to learn to be equally vulnerable in identifying, owning, and sharing my strengths and my gifts to encourage and empower others to do the same. What a difference we could make in the world if we all embraced our light and let it shine forth unimpeded!

This is a difficult thing, isn’t it? The one question we didn’t reach an answer to is why. Why do so many women feel fearful–or even just strange–about owning our strengths? Why are so many blogs, especially by and for women, devoted to admitting our weaknesses and nurturing the broken places in our lives?

I don’t believe this is entirely the fault of Christian culture. It’s true that in many churches, we’re supposed to love being wives and mothers so much that those are the things we celebrate being good at. It’s also true that in many churches women’s roles are limited, often to things similar to being wives and mothers–food and childcare duties. That’s certainly one place where it can feel unsafe to speak about our strengths.

Another part of the problem is the “disease model” of salvation–that we are all horribly broken from birth and in desperate need to be rescued from hell. For a good number of people (not just women), such a belief has done an incredible amount of damage to their self-worth. If a person thinks she has nothing good inside her to offer, she isn’t going to speak about her strengths.

That’s not the whole picture, though. It’s a systemic issue. I’ve written before on my experience in school of reading very little literature written by women. In all my time playing with my orchestra (more than 10 years total), I think we’ve played exactly one composition written by a woman. When I brought that up with some friends, I got two equally bad reactions:

1. If you wanted to read things by women, why didn’t you just do it on your own?

and

2. Who cares who wrote it as long as it’s good?

Both of those are ways of silencing women. If women have written books that are just as good as those written by men, then why aren’t we reading them in the classroom? The idea that it doesn’t matter is ridiculous. It matters because it sends the message that women may be able to write, but they don’t write the kinds of things everyone wants to read. That may be an unintentional message, but it’s the one being sent whether intended or not.

How can we learn that we are good at these things if we’re never acknowledged as such? How can women know that we are good and capable and that our work is desirable if we look around us and the vast majority of people being celebrated in history, art, literature, science, and music are men?

When people (okay, mostly men; sorry) dismiss that concern as irrelevant or untrue, it just serves to silence us further. When we’re told that it doesn’t matter or that we’re exaggerating or that their experiences were different, it makes me angry. None of those things matter when reality is that so many women continue to feel like we are fractured.

We need to do something about that. I’m going to do something about that. I want to know what we’re good at. Everything we’re good at. If you are a woman, what do you love to do that feels like a success? How did you discover it? Is it your profession? A hobby? Something with your family?

Maybe you’re a guy (hey, plenty of guys read this blog). I’m willing to bet you know some pretty amazing women. What makes them amazing?

Feel free to leave comments here. You can also contact me. I’m going to spend as long as it takes collecting stories about women and what we’re good at. If you want your story here, let me know. I’ll keep it anonymous if you prefer. Let’s get the word out that we are more than our broken places. Let’s do as Kenetha suggests and “[embrace] our light and let it shine forth unimpeded!”

Stay-at-home moms don’t need a defense

Two Secrets

Being a woman of confidence (part 2)

Pearson strikes again

Being a woman of confidence

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