The women of my life occupy my thoughts these days, for obvious reasons. Mom lives with me because of memory issues (Vascular dementia and Alzheimer's) and my days are filled with laughter, sadness, aggravation, but also observation and reflection. She fills my life now and I'm recognizing among many things, how her prejudices about "women" in general have filtered into and shaped my life.
Mom believes women should stay home, take care of their families and that men should be the breadwinners. She laments whenever the subject of women and work comes up, "This country started to deteriorate when women left their duties and went out into the work force." Unfortunately, inwardly, for years, I harbored a similar prejudice toward women with children who worked outside the home. It wasn't overt, or in your face, just a slight superiority, actually born of my own insecurities.
Now, mind you, Mom started to work outside the home when I was about 12-years-old. It was not a career choice, but rather a reluctant choice based on perceived economic necessity. My parents divorced when I was 21. I know she partially blames herself that working outside the home somehow ruined her marriage, and negatively affected her children's lives. I saw my Mom work hard to provide a roof over our heads and put food on the table after the divorce. Coupled with the choices her children were making, life was not easy for her. I didn't blame her for the divorce, but I secretly felt life would had been better had she been home.
Once I had my own child, I wanted to stay home, even though I was single. In my twenties, in Omaha, Nebraska, I worked part-time at a doctor's office. My sister took good care of Charlie, but I missed him. I wanted to be the Mama. Of course, women who work outside the home are still the mama to their children, but it was my own emotional need to be "with" my child that was the bottom line that kept influencing the choices I made, along with, at the time, that unrecognized general prejudice about women and work.
Having had enough of Omaha, and seeking a new and possibly better life for her children, my Mom decided to move to California to be near her sister and family. Despite my fears, California, after all was a dark, heathen place, and after struggling with my desire to be more independent (I was still living with Mom), we moved along with four of my siblings in 1973.
There, I cleaned houses and a doctor's office; I also lived on welfare. I told people I cleaned toilets for a living. The money I earned had to be reported to the state, and was deducted from my next month's subsistence check. I didn't live high-on-the-hog as some people think about welfare recipients. I had to save money from my checks for the next month, and usually carried only a dime in my pocket after rent, utilities and food. I couldn't get ahead to get off the dole. I wanted desperately to get off of welfare, and desperately to be at home. I remember a friend told me, "Well, that's why God gives us husbands." Her implication being, husbands are there to take care of us so we don't have to work outside the home, or be on welfare. I didn't have one, husband that is.
Nevertheless, those odd cleaning jobs allowed me to take my son with me to work. It was honest work. I rode a bike with Charlie on the back to each job; picture Rerun, of the Charlie Brown cartoon features on the back of his mom's bike. I'd sing to try to keep him awake (Sing, Charlie, Sing), because if he fell asleep, it would jerk my bike. In traffic, not a good idea. http://youtu.be/AlWI2JJ8l4Y
I hated standing in line to receive a welfare check and getting off the public dole was a major reason I moved to Tennessee in the mid 1970s.
An opportunity presented itself for me to live in a house in Farmer's Exchange and possibly care for an elderly couple for room and board, plus a small salary. If they liked me, if they decided to come home from the nursing home, and the family agreed, I would be their live-in caregiver. I could be a "work from home" mom. It felt like an answer to prayer. What would I have done if they decided not to come home or if they didn't like me? I had no clue and no back-up plan. After three years in Sunnyvale, on the San Francisco Peninsula, with $200 in my pocket and a 5-year-old in tow, I left California for the hills of Middle Tennessee. The average age of the residents in Farmer's Exchange was 80 years old. I imagined raising my child alone among them hills.
Miss Annie and Mr. Lloyd did come home; I did take care of them. After two years I met Joe, their grandson and we were married. That's the short version. Our marriage was blessed with two children, Jennifer and David, and I spent the next twenty-four years being an at-home mom, as we lived in rural Tennessee, with a few breaks living in Kuwait and Cyprus. That "at-home" job description included teaching them at home. Joe worked overseas in the oil-field and was gone at least six months out of the year. We both felt my being at home was beneficial as I provided stability and continuity to our family life. Of course, he is very, ah, hum, how should I say it, traditional? He believes the man should bring home the bacon and the women should fry it. We clicked along those lines when the children were growing up.
That's another story for another day, but as you see, I kept making decisions, and was able to make choices that allowed me to be in the home. Even though it was hard living in Tennessee those first few years and then when I married (I don't know what made me think getting married to an oil-field worker would ease my loneliness as I often lamented Joe's absences), it all allowed me to follow my own inclinations. I had the opportunity to make the choices I made because of family and then friends. I wouldn't trade those years for anything in the world. Other mothers don't have the opportunity and/or the inclination.
My Mom's negative attitude about women and work, I now recognize, did filter into my decisions on some subconscious level to please. Distance helped me over the years, to recognize how much I wanted to please my Mom, and certainly, now that the tables are turned and she lives with me, I deal with that every day. To please her is just not possible any more, if it ever was.
Looking back, and considering my prejudices, I know that for most of my life, I'd rather listen to a male preacher then a female one. Until recently, I'd rather go to a male doctor then a female one, but I'm changing. I guess you'd call me a late feminist bloomer, or possibly a convert. Oh, how parents' attitudes can trickle down to their children. I listen to Mom now, carry on about women and work, and I argue with her on behalf of women having the right to decide whether or not to work away from home without being made to feel like they are somehow shirking their duties.
I remind her others don't have the luxury of staying home, either because they are raising a family on their own, or because economic times are tough. There just isn't any other way. We have gone around and around talking about shared duties, not based on gender, and the fact that men can be nurturing as well as women. If Mr. Mom chooses to stay home, while his partner works, that's their choice. Nurturing is not gender specific.
It's pointless to argue, I know, I keep saying that to myself. But I find myself reacting, seething, and arguing just the same, which is strange, since my lifestyle agrees with her. I'm still making the choice to work from home as a caregiver and writer even though over the past eight years I've acquired those missing marketable skills. If there was ever any doubt in my mind, that the only reason I wasn't seeking a career outside the home was because I couldn't do anything else, it's gone.
I do believe our choices should not be based on gender stereotypes. I believe that, because I have a daughter. If my sons can take advantage of opportunities, she should be able to as well. Though I made my choices along traditional lines, well, for the most part, I'd argue from the depths of who I am, that she should have the opportunity to pursue whatever path she is inclined to choose, especially as a human being with free will.
My daughter has had more opportunities then I had, more then my mother had, and certainly more then my grandmothers had. As I think of my grandmothers' influence on my life, particularly the circumstances that were thrust upon them and out of them the choices they made, well, that will have to wait for another blog.
To be continued....
Now, mind you, Mom started to work outside the home when I was about 12-years-old. It was not a career choice, but rather a reluctant choice based on perceived economic necessity. My parents divorced when I was 21. I know she partially blames herself that working outside the home somehow ruined her marriage, and negatively affected her children's lives. I saw my Mom work hard to provide a roof over our heads and put food on the table after the divorce. Coupled with the choices her children were making, life was not easy for her. I didn't blame her for the divorce, but I secretly felt life would had been better had she been home.
Once I had my own child, I wanted to stay home, even though I was single. In my twenties, in Omaha, Nebraska, I worked part-time at a doctor's office. My sister took good care of Charlie, but I missed him. I wanted to be the Mama. Of course, women who work outside the home are still the mama to their children, but it was my own emotional need to be "with" my child that was the bottom line that kept influencing the choices I made, along with, at the time, that unrecognized general prejudice about women and work.
Having had enough of Omaha, and seeking a new and possibly better life for her children, my Mom decided to move to California to be near her sister and family. Despite my fears, California, after all was a dark, heathen place, and after struggling with my desire to be more independent (I was still living with Mom), we moved along with four of my siblings in 1973.
There, I cleaned houses and a doctor's office; I also lived on welfare. I told people I cleaned toilets for a living. The money I earned had to be reported to the state, and was deducted from my next month's subsistence check. I didn't live high-on-the-hog as some people think about welfare recipients. I had to save money from my checks for the next month, and usually carried only a dime in my pocket after rent, utilities and food. I couldn't get ahead to get off the dole. I wanted desperately to get off of welfare, and desperately to be at home. I remember a friend told me, "Well, that's why God gives us husbands." Her implication being, husbands are there to take care of us so we don't have to work outside the home, or be on welfare. I didn't have one, husband that is.
Nevertheless, those odd cleaning jobs allowed me to take my son with me to work. It was honest work. I rode a bike with Charlie on the back to each job; picture Rerun, of the Charlie Brown cartoon features on the back of his mom's bike. I'd sing to try to keep him awake (Sing, Charlie, Sing), because if he fell asleep, it would jerk my bike. In traffic, not a good idea. http://youtu.be/AlWI2JJ8l4Y
I hated standing in line to receive a welfare check and getting off the public dole was a major reason I moved to Tennessee in the mid 1970s.
An opportunity presented itself for me to live in a house in Farmer's Exchange and possibly care for an elderly couple for room and board, plus a small salary. If they liked me, if they decided to come home from the nursing home, and the family agreed, I would be their live-in caregiver. I could be a "work from home" mom. It felt like an answer to prayer. What would I have done if they decided not to come home or if they didn't like me? I had no clue and no back-up plan. After three years in Sunnyvale, on the San Francisco Peninsula, with $200 in my pocket and a 5-year-old in tow, I left California for the hills of Middle Tennessee. The average age of the residents in Farmer's Exchange was 80 years old. I imagined raising my child alone among them hills.
Miss Annie and Mr. Lloyd did come home; I did take care of them. After two years I met Joe, their grandson and we were married. That's the short version. Our marriage was blessed with two children, Jennifer and David, and I spent the next twenty-four years being an at-home mom, as we lived in rural Tennessee, with a few breaks living in Kuwait and Cyprus. That "at-home" job description included teaching them at home. Joe worked overseas in the oil-field and was gone at least six months out of the year. We both felt my being at home was beneficial as I provided stability and continuity to our family life. Of course, he is very, ah, hum, how should I say it, traditional? He believes the man should bring home the bacon and the women should fry it. We clicked along those lines when the children were growing up.
That's another story for another day, but as you see, I kept making decisions, and was able to make choices that allowed me to be in the home. Even though it was hard living in Tennessee those first few years and then when I married (I don't know what made me think getting married to an oil-field worker would ease my loneliness as I often lamented Joe's absences), it all allowed me to follow my own inclinations. I had the opportunity to make the choices I made because of family and then friends. I wouldn't trade those years for anything in the world. Other mothers don't have the opportunity and/or the inclination.
My Mom's negative attitude about women and work, I now recognize, did filter into my decisions on some subconscious level to please. Distance helped me over the years, to recognize how much I wanted to please my Mom, and certainly, now that the tables are turned and she lives with me, I deal with that every day. To please her is just not possible any more, if it ever was.
Looking back, and considering my prejudices, I know that for most of my life, I'd rather listen to a male preacher then a female one. Until recently, I'd rather go to a male doctor then a female one, but I'm changing. I guess you'd call me a late feminist bloomer, or possibly a convert. Oh, how parents' attitudes can trickle down to their children. I listen to Mom now, carry on about women and work, and I argue with her on behalf of women having the right to decide whether or not to work away from home without being made to feel like they are somehow shirking their duties.
It's pointless to argue, I know, I keep saying that to myself. But I find myself reacting, seething, and arguing just the same, which is strange, since my lifestyle agrees with her. I'm still making the choice to work from home as a caregiver and writer even though over the past eight years I've acquired those missing marketable skills. If there was ever any doubt in my mind, that the only reason I wasn't seeking a career outside the home was because I couldn't do anything else, it's gone.
I do believe our choices should not be based on gender stereotypes. I believe that, because I have a daughter. If my sons can take advantage of opportunities, she should be able to as well. Though I made my choices along traditional lines, well, for the most part, I'd argue from the depths of who I am, that she should have the opportunity to pursue whatever path she is inclined to choose, especially as a human being with free will.
My daughter has had more opportunities then I had, more then my mother had, and certainly more then my grandmothers had. As I think of my grandmothers' influence on my life, particularly the circumstances that were thrust upon them and out of them the choices they made, well, that will have to wait for another blog.
To be continued....
My mother the feminist! huray! Feminism is about having opportunity and choices. It has been warped on both end of the extremes; however, it has always been about women having choice.
ReplyDeleteJanet, that's interesting. When I was with Bob in the early eighties, the long term plan had been that I would be at home. Later, I believe, he would rather that I work. My preference, if I had one, would have been to stay at home. I am a homebody. Today, my business requires me to be at work - a lot. And now, ironically, my husband works exclusively from home. (He is an artist). I never would have predicted that and it's funny how things turn around isn't it?
ReplyDeleteAs I've said, life is always changing, taking on new shapes, with new possibilities. Things don't always turn out the way we expect, that's for sure.
ReplyDeleteAs I read this blog I realize how incredibly brave and trusting in God my mother really was. As a child a lot of times we don't realize just how things really are and that is due to our parents sheltering us and instilling trust in them that they will take care of us no matter what. I had no idea (as I shouldn't at 5 yrs old) that she had hardly any money when we moved to TN. Looking back the love that my mother had for me was literally the only thing that I needed. Being a parent myself now I understand what kind of stress and fear that she must have went through during that time worrying about what would happen to us and how we would make it through and know that the only reason she was able to do it was through her faith in God. Every time I look through her journals (sorry mom for the invasion of privacy) I realize more and more how strong she was and what a kind a loving person she was to everyone around her. She touched so many peoples lives in a positive way. I truly think that she did not realize how much positive influence she had on the people around her. She was the most amazing woman I have ever known and am proud to have had her as a mother. I can only hope to be half the person that she was and strive for that goal. I love you mom and miss you every day.
ReplyDelete