Moms Are Feminists Too

Princess Bride: Get a Job?

2011-02-25T09:55:00.000-08:00

What does it mean to be dependent on one's spouse? Carol Chandran, at the blog 4 Mothers, responds to Katrina Onstad's recent and controversial article in the Globe and Mail about Kate Middleton quitting her job to become a princess. Most of the comments on Onstad's piece are negative, but I like that she took on the topic and I appreciated much of what she had to say--it struck a chord, as I continue to struggle with what it means to be a contributing member of society (and no, I don't think paid work is the only path, but it sure is lovely to contribute financially to my family's fortunes).

Chandran's response is measured and thoughtful. She disagrees with Onstad's premise that paid work equals social contribution. Chandran, who supports her family of four as a lawyer, points out that although she is the primary earner in her family, she is nevertheless dependent on her husband to look after their children and support her on the home-front. She writes: "'Dependence' is a maligned word in our society because it is associated with a lack of autonomy and weakness. But all strong foundational relationships like marriage or the parent-child variety expose our vulnerability."

I needed to hear that, today.

Women's Writing: Discuss

2010-12-09T07:22:00.000-08:00

Must must must link to this provocative and well-argued piece, by Kerry Clare, on women's fiction, and how it continues to be viewed by critics as being of lesser value than men's fiction, long after Virginia Woolf wrote about the issue in A Room of One's Own: "This is an important book, the critic assumes, because it deals with war. This is an insignificant book because it deals with women in a drawing-room. A scene in a battlefield is more important than a scene in a shop -- everywhere and much more subtly the difference of value persists."

In her essay, Clare posits that the gestational nature of a book like Lisa Moore's February is indeed very much unlike the plot- and conclusion-driven fiction that we consider to be traditionally male; but that the layered and continual sock-folding nature of "feminine" fiction should not and cannot be dismissed simply because it approaches time and human transitions differently.

I guess my question is: do women really understand time and action differently than men do? Is this a feminine quality, or does it relate more to the fact that more women than men, even now, spend time folding socks, and completing repetetive daily tasks? Do our bodies call us to repetition and a less linear understanding of time, are women by nature gestational beings? Just asking. I don't know.

Read the article. And then comment, because I want to know what you think (... as I sit here, writing what seems to me to be a prototypically feminine book).

Squeezing Time

2010-08-25T06:33:00.000-07:00

This is a cross-post from my main blog, Obscure CanLit Mama, but seems particularly applicable to Moms Are Feminists Too.

Wow. Some really interesting changes are taking place in my life right now. Changes are causing some conflict, and also opening up opportunities for discussion and potentially radical shifts (though I suspect these will be slow and steady rather than sudden and shocking).

This year, I've focused on my spirit, and that's taken me to places of quiet reflection and also drawn out of me greater confidence and courage. My family has been noticing this is round-about ways, as I head out early in the morning to go for a run, learn how to swim, take time to bury myself in writing, head out as soon as supper's on the table in order to take a yoga class, or set up the tripod and camera; all things that I am doing on my own, that don't necessarily connect to their lives, and that might actually exclude them in one way or another.

My husband and I have been struggling to find, in the midst of this extra-curricular activity, time to spend together. This morning it occurred to us that this is a problem of home economics. My husband was the one who made this observation, not me. He observed that I am responsible for the bulk of the domestic work, and if I add in other work, whether or not it is of the paying variety, it means that my time becomes more and more squeezed. So I am writing down a list of all the domestic/household labour that I do (and that he does, too), with the idea that we work to split it more evenly, and also among the children, to some degree.

It's quite a list.

Thinking about sharing this work, and therefore having time to focus more freely on the triathlon project and writing generally, brought me to a new revelation: I think part of me wanted to go back to school to train to be something else because then my time would be accounted for, my work outside the home acknowledged as important, and the family obligated to pick up (some) slack--because I wouldn't always be there to do it for them, and with good reason. It is a little fantasy of mine to imagine children packing lunches for school and getting their own snacks after school, and then tidying up. (I did say it was a fantasy).

My husband admitted that he has fallen into gender stereotyping--well, we both have. He works and earns the money, and I keep the home fires a'burning. Except I also try to squeeze in a side career (I am a writer), and it is indeed very squeezed. Partly this is practical: because he earns the money that keeps us afloat, his work-time isn't optional, and mine, with its occasional grant/prize windfalls and trickle of odd-job cheques is nowhere near enough to feed and house a family of six. So, the divide has made sense. But we've also become trapped by it, and blind to it. Because of course my work will never add up to much if I can't commit to or pursue freelance jobs that would require even moderate time commitment over and above what I've already carved out. And fiction writing is the kind of business that demands long-term investment, a risky investment at best. But without investment, it will add up to precisely nothing.

So, our question now is: how to go forward, treating what I do, outside of domestic duties, as work worthy of more time, and energy?

Breastfeeding

2010-06-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

An excellent and nuanced reflection from Kerry at Pickle Me This on how a mom-centred approach to breastfeeding saved her breastfeeding life. What I like about her argument is that she looks at the disconnect between the two opposing camps--on the one side, the quitting-breastfeeding-is-the-best-thing-a-mom-can-ever-do camp, and on the other side, the all-mothers-must-breastfeed-and-sing-songs-of-joy-about-it camp--and how neither side in the debate really serves the actual individual woman who is trying to do her best for her baby and herself.

Breastfeeding is a really individual experience. Even at its apex (and I had an easy time breastfeeding my babies), it is messy and time-consuming. It's worth acknowledging that there can be complications, pain, infection, et cetera. On the other hand, it can also be any number of really lovely things, too. For me, I missed being pregnant, and breastfeeding was a way of extending that intimacy; it eased our separation. I felt a lot of power (in a good way) knowing that my body continued to feed my babies' bodies. And it gave me an excuse to sit down.

I'm sure every mother would have a unique story.

What strikes me most while reading Kerry's piece, though, is that it seems these camps exist because of a fundamental cultural insecurity about motherhood. All of us secretly wondering: have we chosen right, are we doing the right thing, and therefore demanding affirmation, and needing to squash or belittle all alternatives. If we believed in our own instincts, maybe there would be less judgement all around; at the very least, we'd be more impervious to it.

A Short Rant

2010-05-20T07:56:00.001-07:00

My mother-in-law loves to shop and our family has been the beneficiary of her generosity over the years (and since I hate to shop, this is a particularly wonderful gift). She essentially clothes our children, and occasionally I actually have to request that she not go overboard, and remind her that our toddler has an attic filled with boxes of hand-me-downs, and does not need brand new ... well, anything.
This spring, I requested shorts for the two eldest children. And before we knew it, a parcel had landed on our porch. The kids dug in, and discovered piles of clothes, something for everyone; but they assumed all of the "girlie" shorts were for our younger daughter. When I went to take a look, I saw why: the shorts were short. My eldest daughter is not short. In short, the clothes that were meant for her were inappropriate. I do not think my mother-in-law has the slightest intention of turning her seven-year-old granddaughter into a sex symbol--in fact, I'm positive that's not the case. My guess is that those very short shorts were what she found available in the stores, for girls. For boys, shorts continue to be made of comfortable material cut into practical lengths.
My daughter was mildly perplexed: why were the shorts so short? She couldn't wear them to school (which has a finger-length rule), and they weren't much use for playing soccer and doing running club anyway. So, she's been wearing her (one pair) of soccer shorts instead. I just went upstairs and dug through her older brother's drawer and found some shorts that would fit her, too.
And I thought to myself: what is this about? What is the message being sent to girls and not to boys? Here's my reading: girls are (sexual) objects to be decorated, and not active participants. How can you play soccer in teeny-tiny shorts? You can't, really. And you won't look sexy playing soccer anyway, so why would you want to play?
How can we empower our daughters to make decisions that honour their bodies, their aspirations, their desires, their sense of freedom and play, if we are dressing them in clothes that subtly undermine those powerful and positive messages.
I'm not suggesting there's a clothing company conspiracy; the clothing simply reflects what our culture accepts, or even requests, perhaps without even thinking about it. Let's think about it. I'm going to ask my mother-in-law to shop for shorts in the boys' section--for my daughters. Free play for all!

Ah ... Maternal and Infant Health, Such a Simple Subject, No?

2010-05-18T06:27:00.000-07:00

So, while I was away, Stephen Harper, the prime minister of Canada, thought he'd appeal to women (he apparently doesn't poll well with us as a group), and to this end (or am I being too cynical?), he proposed an initiative to improve maternal and infant health in developing nations. His initiative, while laudable, has one gaping hole: it does not include funding or support for family planning; most specifically, of course, for abortion. As I said to my husband, imagine if we had no access to family planning--how many kids would we have??? (We have four, full stop). Blessedly fertile, without family planning--in our case, condoms and now a vasectomy--I would be pregnant non-stop, and not only would my own health suffer, but so would the health of our children.

Spacing out children and deciding how many one can reasonably care for is critical to both maternal and infant health: in fact, it's critical to the health of a family, and communities, and society generally. To survive and to thrive, infants and children need parents who have the resources to protect and nurture them. Not to mention that a woman who is constantly pregnant has the story of her life written for her: and the plot-line revolves around constant, repetitive, menial labour; and, often, early death.

Blue Milk is an awesome blog about mothering and feminism, and I discovered this piece on abortion and motherhood. About pregnancy, she writes: "... this state of being is a devouring one, and ... it is vital that it not be experienced unwillingly by a woman."

That's the crux of the matter, for me. Carrying an unwanted pregnancy is like being trapped in the body. There is a tendency to judge women who accidentally become pregnant, but I've no interest in moralizing. Let us observe that some women carrying unwanted pregnancies are already mothers. Some have more children than they can care for. And some are willing to go to desperate measures to prevent their bodies from carrying another pregnancy to term. A recent article by Geoffrey York in the Globe and Mail detailed the dangers and prevalence of abortion "clinics" in African countries where abortion is illegal. Guess what--it happens whether or not it is legally available. This shouldn't be news. Speaking as someone who has carried four children to term, it's entirely understandable. Had I not wanted to be carrying those children, the state of pregnancy would have been terrifying, overwhelming, devastating.

To imagine that you can craft a policy focused on maternal and infant health and leave out family planning, contraception, and, yes, as a last resort, abortion, is to imagine a world in which every pregnant woman is pregnant willingly. In other words, the policy could only be crafted in a fantastical vacuum; and though it might shock Mr. Harper to hear this, not all mothers idealize motherhood. In the messy and complicated human world in which we actually live, I, as a mother, accept that not all pregnant women are willingly pregnant. And, as a mother, having with love and excitement and gratitude borne my babies, I can imagine how desperate I would feel trapped in that other reality. Denying legal access to abortion does not deny access to abortion; it sends desperate women underground--including women who are already mothers.

Politics of Breastfeeding

2010-05-17T11:06:00.001-07:00

I haven't been here in awhile. Somehow, my brain stopped looking for feminist/mom-related news stories over the winter. But I came back for a visit, after lunch today, and thought I'd like to check in more often.

Here's a link to an article on the politics of breastfeeding by Hannah Rosen, published in the The Atlantic, and suggested by a reader (whose comment I only saw today ... apparently the comment settings on this blog needed tweaking; consider them tweaked).

The article is controversial; but I did not respond quite like I'd anticipated. The article argues against "lactivists" and the popular medical advice given to women that breast is best. (Note: I do actually believe that breast is best). Ms. Rosen is a breastfeeding mother of three who began to investigate her own ambivalence about breastfeeding when her third child was newly born: and she walked right into a minefield that pits mothers against mothers.

Now, despite being a breastfeeding mother of four, I find sympathy with her argument. I chose breastfeeding because I wanted to breastfeed. I took a lot of pleasure from the experience. If my husband had been the one with the breasts, I would have been devastated. Lactating was an extremely powerful experience in my life. But I recognize that this is not the case for every woman. And I also recognize that breastfeeding is a major time-sucker (literally!). Because babies breastfeed through the night, I spent a good portion of my breastfeeding days sleep-deprived. My husband was pretty tired, too; we shared the night-time burden in the early infant days--I would nurse, and he would change the diaper or fetch the baby, if the baby had moved on to sleeping in another room. But I was the one whose body was working to make the milk. I was the one with the non-negotiable job--and it never felt like a sacrifice to me.

Neither did pregnancy. Definitely not birth. Those were formative life experiences that brought me strength. But, as my fourth child ends his nursing career, slowly, and I end my career as a lactating woman (and I've done the math--I've breastfed babies for a total of SEVEN YEARS), I get that other perspective: that desire to share the burden of childcare more fairly between partners. Breastfeeding can factor into that inequity.

Here's one more thought, though. Rather than wishing our bodies were different, is there some way to recognize and incorporate the realities of our bodies into the world of work and life? Only women can bear children. Only women can lactate. Whether you see this is a burden and a sacrifice, or a privilege and a joy, or perhaps as both, depends on a whole lot of factors, and may even change from day to day, or child to child. Breastfeeding out of obligation and with a strong sense of sacrifice may not be the best for you or your child. Still, it's always easier to make choices when there is plenty of support for the harder choices; support, not pressure; and I don't think we have the balance yet.

In the final paragraph of her article, Ms. Rosen tries to analyze why, despite wanting to quit, she hasn't given up breastfeeding entirely: "Breast-feeding does not belong in the realm of facts and hard numbers; it is much too intimate and elemental. It contains all of my awe about motherhood, and also my ambivalence."

I like that. How well I relate to that honest take on motherhood: awe and ambivalence.

Responses

2010-01-06T08:17:00.001-08:00

Just wanted to alert you to responses to our questionnaire, which continue to trickle in. Enjoy. There's lots to chew on.

What to Pretend

2010-01-03T15:47:00.000-08:00

I love Amy Poehler. Here's what she said about motherhood in an interview in the Dec./Jan. 2010 issue of Bust magazine: "There's an unwritten rule that women who stay at home are supposed to pretend it's boring, and women who work are supposed to pretend they feel guilty, and that's how it works."

Women and Writing

2009-12-13T16:28:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-06T06:24:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-12-04T08:20:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-30T11:03:00.001-08:00

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?"

2009-11-28T19:12:00.000-08:00

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.
:::
P.S. I've added a link to the questionnaire to the right.

Conspiracy of public-school hubs

2009-11-26T18:32:00.000-08:00

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.
:::
If you're looking for the questionnaire, click here. To read responses, click on the link to your right.

Stats to chew on ...

2009-11-22T09:06:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-18T20:21:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-13T13:25:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-12T19:22:00.001-08:00

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?

2009-11-09T09:18:00.000-08:00

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.