Women and Writing

Read this essay from The Guardian online, by Rachel Cusk, on women and writing. I'll quote a passage from it:

When a woman in 2009 sits down to write, she perhaps feels rather sexless. She is inclined neither to express nor deny: she'd rather be left alone to get on with it. She might even nurture a certain hostility towards the concept of "women's writing". Why should she be politicised when she doesn't feel politicised? It may even, with her, be a point of honour to keep those politics as far from her prose as it is possible to get them. What compromises women – babies, domesticity, mediocrity – compromises writing even more. ... Her own life is one of freedom and entitlement, though her mother's was probably not. Yet she herself is not a man. She is a woman: it is history that has brought about this difference between herself and her mother. She can look around her and see that while women's lives have altered in some respects, in others they have remained much the same. She can look at her own body: if a woman's body signifies anything, it is that repetition is more powerful than change. But change is more wondrous, more enjoyable. It is pleasanter to write the book of change than the book of repetition. In the book of change one is free to consider absolutely anything, except that which is eternal and unvarying. "Women's writing" might be another name for the book of repetition.

Domesticity, babies, our bodies. Repetition; change. Are we circling perpetually around the same questions and problems of how to balance our own lives and needs while meeting the needs of those for whom we are responsible because what underlies these questions does not change? Because we are our bodies.

Twenty Years

I found this interview with Nathalie Provost, in the Globe and Mail, very moving. Ms. Provost survived the shooting at the Ecole Polytechnique, which happened twenty years ago. She is protesting the federal government's proposed changes to the long-gun registry.
According to the Globe and Mail, 5.6 percent of victims murdered by hand-guns are women; 41.1 percent of victims murdered by long-guns are women.

How Does She Do It?

How does she do it?

How does the Perfect Mom manage to care for her children 24 hours a day, cook fresh and healthy meals from scratch, source her food locally, keep her house tidy and clean, launder her family's clothing, arrange regular doctor and dentist appointments, read books to her children, spend special time with each individual child, ferry children to after-school activities, cope with conflict creatively, stay patient and calm amidst the great and constant storm of chaos, spend meaningful and romantic time with her partner, and even do paid work on occasion? Oh, and still make space to nurture herself.

I ask because this is the kind of mom I strive to be. And because we're all familiar with that Perfect Mom ideal. We're bombarded with images of her.

I also ask because it's the kind of mom that I'm not.

I'm not against setting the bar high. I want to learn and achieve and strive to do better. But when I look at that list of Perfect Mom achievements, it becomes really clear that the ideal is not just impossible, but improbable, even mythical.

There is no way, for example, to do paid work while caring for children. I might be able to involve my children (with effort and time lost and extra mess afterward) in helping to cook a meal, but I can't involve them in helping me write a story (my paid work). In fact, as anyone knows who's ever chased a toddler around house, in order to do that work, I need my children to be elsewhere entirely, being looked after by someone else (though the television is also an occasionally effective babysitter). Which completely nixes the possibility of Perfect Mom-dom.

In fact, the answer to how does she do it? is: She doesn't. Those of us who occasionally look like we're achieving the impossible are working with smoke and mirrors. We're magicians of special effects. We're faking it.

And I wonder whether there's something intrinsically wrong with that, have we created an image of motherhood that is both alluring and ultimately disappointing. And yet ...

I strongly dislike wallowing, complaining, whining. I think negativity is corrosive and infects others, too. Part of my mothering goal is to be as positive as possible, to create an optimistic family culture, to live inside even the most difficult situations and cope with grace and humour. To forgive my own mistakes and be careful not to judge others, too.

Part of faking it is reminding myself of what is possible.

But maybe I should be reminding myself that there's an imperfect human being behind the curtain. And sharing that conflicted, often harassed and frustrated self.

Are those ideals even my own, at heart? Really? How do I know?

One more question: Is there a Perfect Dad?

Valuing Unpaid Work

It strikes me that there are a couple of separate but related issues when trying to parse the issues of motherhood and work.

One: women do two-thirds of the unpaid work that keeps our economy whisking along. Why? Why isn't the burden shared more equally?

Two: this work is not highly valued. Does that partially answer the questions above?

Now, an unacknowledged truth is that much of this unpaid work is genuinely fulfilling and meaningful. Many of us choose to do it because we love it. I love to cook. I love spending time with my children. So does it follow, then, that because we love it and because it is meaningful it shouldn't be paid?

That's where I take issue with the logic. I think women, and mothers in particular, are sold this idea that we're damned lucky to be mothers, and if we can afford to stay home, we're even luckier, that this is proof of our upper-middle-class values, and it's a luxury no one should complain about, and on and on and on. And while I agree--yes, I'm extremely fortunate to have been able to afford to stay home, and I'm privileged to be a mother--I question the reasoning that suggests that my privilege disqualifies me from addressing inequities. So, I've decided not to shut up just because I'm lucky.

Much as I love caring for my children and looking after the household duties, I would gratefully share more of these duties--and their meaningfulness and joys, as well as their burdens. It shouldn't only be those most fortunate who get to choose to stay home with their children. And really good childcare should be available and affordable for everyone. (Aside: Those two previous sentences are not in opposition to each other. Choice is the key). (Aside # 2: Somehow we seem more willing to swallow that idea if we're told it's Early Childhood Education, which is fine with me, but I wish we'd be willing to swallow the idea that good and loving childcare is valuable enough to be worth investing in).

A few modest proposals: Increase parental leave time to two years. Increase payments. Make parental leave available to everyone (I was unable to access it, being self-employed). Publicly fund a variety of childcare options, including in-home care, and preschool, daycare, and after-school programming at neighbourhood public schools, which could also house early years centres to support parents. Communities are stronger when we know each other. Families are stronger when we have a larger network of support to access.

Why is this a feminist issue? Because women do the bulk of this labour. Simple as that.

"Why Is Feminism Still So Divisive?"

Please please please read this New Yorker article by Ariel Levy. It is on the very subject this blog is struggling with--how much feminism has achieved for women, and yet how we've utterly failed to address the thorny issues of motherhood, work, and caring for children. The article's final couple of paragraphs darn near knocked me flat. Did you know that in the United States, in 1971, both houses of Congress passed a non-partisan bill that would have made after-school care and early childhood education available on a sliding scale of tuition--to everyone who wished to access it, without making it mandatory for anyone? And the bill has been lost to history and all but forgotten because later that same year Richard Nixon vetoed it, and that opportunity was buried.

"So close," Levy writes. "And now so far. The amazing journey of American women is easier to take pride in if you banish thoughts about the roads not taken. When you consider all those women struggling to earn a paycheck while rearing their children, and start to imagine what might have been, it’s enough to make you want to burn something."

Thanks to Susan for passing the link to this article on to me.
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P.S. I've added a link to the questionnaire to the right.

Conspiracy of public-school hubs

The Globe and Mail ran an opinion piece yesterday (Nov. 25) on the early childcare education plan proposed by the current Ontario government. The author stated, as if blowing the whistle on a large conspiracy, that "unknown to many, it is but one step in a grander plan to create public-school hubs for the “prenatal period through adolescence.”" Um. Right. That's bad? A neighbourhood hub to support families, including offering inexpensive childcare and preschool. Right there in in your friendly neighbourhood public school. The horror!
She argues that the proposed program will be hugely expensive and largely ineffectual. Admittedly there are some major problems, such as who will be hired as early-childhood educators and how much will they be paid (not as much as teachers, that's for sure). And where will already-crowded facilities house these extra bodies during the school day. Her solution? Give parents the money. She estimates parents would be due to receive about $9000 extra per year. And then we could spend it how we liked.
But here's the thing: I don't directly pay to have the road paved in front of my house. If I did, my portion of road might be full of potholes, because I don't really care about driving and cars. Your portion might be re-tarred regularly. And that guy up the street has dug up his portion to plant a garden instead.
Okay, that model clearly wouldn't work. So instead, I'll give the government just a little bit of money, they can pool it, and pave the roads, because enough citizens agree that they like having roads. Do enough citizens agree that we like having children? You don't have to drive on the roads to appreciate their general usefulness. And you don't have to send your children to early childcare centres to appreciate that these will benefit some children and some families, and potentially many children and many families.
We've agreed, as a society, that public schools benefit our children, and by extension, us. What's stopping us from going just a little bit further for younger children, for children who need somewhere to go after school, and for parents looking to connect with other parents? In my own experience, it was when my kids started attending school that I really began to feel connected to my neighbourhood and my community, and much less isolated as a parent. Bring on the conspiracy of neighbourhood school hubs. I can hardly wait.
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If you're looking for the questionnaire, click here. To read responses, click on the link to your right.

Stats to chew on ...

Unpaid work in Canada is worth $319 billion, or 41% of the GDP.
That's 25 billion hours of unpaid work every year.
Women perform 2/3 of that work.
The average woman spends twice as much time on unpaid work as on paid work.

"Time is the one unit of exchange we all have in common, the one investment we all have to make, the one resource we cannot reproduce." Marilyn Waring

Thanks to the people at Women & the Economy for these statistics, and for the quotation. There's lots more fascinating info on their site, and an experiment to try at home: charting your daily activities, hour by hour, to see how you're spending your time.

As always, thanks for continuing to reply to the questionnaire (yes, I will plug this in perpetuity!). I'm still trying to figure out what to do with your thoughts, how to integrate them into something more connected and coherent, but meantime, your responses are individual and unique, and I thank you for each one.

Supporting Everyone Who Cares for Our Children

Thanks to all who continue to respond to the questionnaire. If you haven't yet, consider adding your voice to the mix.
This post will be short, but if you get a chance, read the summary of the report on Ontario's Early Learning Initiative. I actually think that buried in the fine print is a message that children matter, that caring for children matters, and that the people who care for children (whether teachers, daycare workers, parents, or other caregivers) also matter. Is the initiative pie in the sky? Do you like the message, or do you read it differently?

More Voices Welcome

Please continue to send your stories and responses to the questionnaire. I think these build a portrait of at-home work that may point toward ideas for change or illuminate common connections. Or perhaps we're simply validating at-home work by claiming it and explaining why we love it, how it challenges us, and how we measure its value.

Supporting Every Woman's Work-Choice

Thanks to all who have answered the questionnaire, below, and to all who have promised to in the near future. If you get a chance, please read the responses that have come in. This is not a scientific survey, to say the least, but it offers a fascinating portrait of the diversity of voices, and the individuality of each woman who responded. Which brings me to the next step. What to do with such diversity of opinion and thought? Is there common ground?
My goal is to support every woman's work-choice. Personally, I wanted to stay home with my young children, though I would have appreciated and accessed more formal support (say, a playgroup at my local primary school, had one existed). What about parents who want to stay home, but can't afford to? What about parents who want to return to work, but can't find adequate daycare?
Domestic work and caring for children does not carry great social currency. It is often unpaid, or underpaid. My initial notion was to ask society ("hello, society!") to recognize our at-home work as productive and valuable. And while I do believe there are small and individual actions we can take in support of this, like proudly claiming our work, rather than feeling vaguely ashamed about doing it, I rather suspect that society might politely ignore the whole initiative.
Here's my question for you: In order to assign value to this work, does it need a price tag? Should we calculate the value of that work--and the value of these children to the future economy? And further, should that work, then, be compensated?
My husband, Kevin, has helpfully crunched a few numbers for our cause using statistics from StatsCan and Canada Revenue Agency. The average wage in Canada in 2007 was $29,800. Taxed at 21% (or $6258), with additional taxes removed for CPP, and EI, and GST and PST, an average employee and his or her employer pay the government roughly $16,909 annually. Over a lifetime of work, using these numbers, the government can expect $794,737 from this person.
Over 18 years from infancy to adulthood, therefore, to produce a tax-generating product of such marvelous quality and value, the caregivers have invested $44,152 annually in labour and development alone.
Ok. The most obvious problem with this calculation is that children aren't products. And people are priceless. But if a number is needed, it's one way to calculate it. Since I've got four products currently in development, that works out to an annual salary of $176,608. That would pop me up a tax bracket or two. However, part of the calculation would be subtracting for work contracted out (teachers, babysitters, preschool, etc.). So if the government would like to invest more in daycares and after-school programs, I will happily pay for its initiatives out of my childcare salary. Hmm ... this fantasy is making me happy.
What do you think?
Please use the comment feature below to reply (or contact me directly).

Who Are You?

Where to begin?
I want to start with stories, with hopes, with crazy idealistic impossibilities, and then move into practicalities: big picture and small picture changes to the cultural valuation of motherhood / parenthood / children. The internet is rich with resources about so many subjects ... but not about this one, and not from a Canadian perspective. Look for available resources on the right-hand column of this blog, and please get in touch if you find others.
So let's begin by telling each other about why we are mothers and feminists, and why these two identities are not incompatible.
The blog Blue Milk (thinking + motherhood = feminist) ran a questionnaire a few years ago. Inspired by that, here's the Moms Are Feminists Too questionnaire, which I offer as food for thought. If you feel moved to reply, please respond (send your response to my email address, which can be figured out under Contact, to your right).

1. How do you define feminism? Why are you a feminist? When did you become one?
2. What has surprised you most about parenthood?
3. What skills have you learned or honed as a parent?
4. What work do you feel called to do? (You don't need to limit your answer to one thing).
5. Could you put your identity into a few key words? ie. mother-writer-student. How do you imagine your identity changing in ten years? Or twenty?
6. What is work? What is leisure? Do you have enough time to do the work that you want to do?
7. Payment is the most obvious way to assign value to work; are there other ways?
8. When people ask: what do you do, how do you reply? How does your reply make you feel?
9. How have your goals for yourself changed since becoming a parent? What help do you need to reach those goals?
10. How has feminism failed mothers / fathers (if you think it has)? Personally, what do you think feminism has given mothers / fathers? What could it give?

I'm posting responses as they come in. I urge you to read these. They are thought-provoking and highly individual. To read them, click here, or on the link to the right. Please contact me and add your voice, too.