My best friend Laura is among the characters in the book. She's an eccentric soul, and among the sweetest, smartest and most generous people I know. In the book, she's at her day job, a feminist theorist/professor who helps us think about what "choice" really means.
Laura's other brilliance, her afternoon job, if you will, is that she's an extraordinarily talented second hand shopper. My closets are full of her finds. If you read down below to "Pink," she's the friend who sends me a pink cashmere sweater, hounded from Bargain Thrift, to help me sort through the gender ambivalence of pink. Laura's also a one-woman PR machine. She's been guiding her friends to my blog. One of them emailed her and said she particularly liked the "Pink" entry. Hearing that, Laura shifted into gear, figured the last pink cashmere was five years back. She showed up at my house tonight with a second cozy pink cashmere, of course, from our favorite junk store. It was especially poignant since Laura's leaving town for four months, and I'll miss her. L--this entry's for you!
More tomorrow on:
my first (pre)-book appearance;
and the weekend's media on motherhood, including, how can one NYT reporter willfully get mom blogs so wrong;
Finally, kudo's to Lisa Belkin's NYTimes column on how parents want day-to-day flexibility and we also want career path flexibility, and an end to the rigid professional paths that don't excuse time off for childraising.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Sunday, January 23, 2005
The book is up on Amazon!
Exciting book news:
The Truth Behind the Mommy Wars is available for preorders on Amazon.com and on Powells.com. In real life, the book will be out in April, once these snows are behind us and the daffodils are in bloom!
The Truth Behind the Mommy Wars is available for preorders on Amazon.com and on Powells.com. In real life, the book will be out in April, once these snows are behind us and the daffodils are in bloom!
Things Need to Change More Quickly than This....
A big thank you to Martin Kafka, who read through the whole blog, and took the time to email and update me on whether conditions for parents at the university I had worked at have changed in the six years since I quit in disgust.
And the answer is: NO!
There is a committee of the faculty senate that has suggested some changes, like undertaking a study to see what other universities provide for family leave, clarifying the options available, consider more creative uses of "leave time" etc, things that sound very abstract, especially since most universities and colleges have been hesitant to offer specific helpful aids to parents. Here, I must say that although academics are always sounding the alarm about how corporate universities are becoming, this is one instance where some lessons from the corporate world would be more helpful. Some large companies are lifetimes ahead of universities in paying attention to family leave and family responsibilities.
There are some more specific things that the report suggested, like providing emergency back up childcare. I heard an NPR report recently in which a representative from Lands End was talking about the back up childcare center they built, in which workers can use, perhaps 21 days a year, or some number decently close to that. They also suggest that the university should expand it's commitment to oncampus childcare.
(To link to the report, click this entry's title.)
So, in short, nothing has changed. Six years. Thanks Martin, for the bad news!
And the answer is: NO!
There is a committee of the faculty senate that has suggested some changes, like undertaking a study to see what other universities provide for family leave, clarifying the options available, consider more creative uses of "leave time" etc, things that sound very abstract, especially since most universities and colleges have been hesitant to offer specific helpful aids to parents. Here, I must say that although academics are always sounding the alarm about how corporate universities are becoming, this is one instance where some lessons from the corporate world would be more helpful. Some large companies are lifetimes ahead of universities in paying attention to family leave and family responsibilities.
There are some more specific things that the report suggested, like providing emergency back up childcare. I heard an NPR report recently in which a representative from Lands End was talking about the back up childcare center they built, in which workers can use, perhaps 21 days a year, or some number decently close to that. They also suggest that the university should expand it's commitment to oncampus childcare.
(To link to the report, click this entry's title.)
So, in short, nothing has changed. Six years. Thanks Martin, for the bad news!
Friday, January 21, 2005
Pink
Yesterday one of my students dropped by for some help on an exam. He and his partner just had a baby. He's an exhausted new father.
He tells me he's appalled at the pink clothes everyone is sending for his infant daughter. "What about me makes them think that I want my daughter clothed in pink?" he asks.
I admit, I've come to terms with pink. I grew up, like many, knowing that pink is evil. Pink is the antichrist of gender equality. All of our problems derive from, or are encoded by.....pink.
So, yes. I too, at the beginning, was appalled by the ubiquity of pink, at baby shops divided by a sea of blue and pink, by the difficult search for, oh, green, yellow, anything not pastel. I was horrified by the frills. Someone sent us a satiny pink dress, even, with a peter pan collar that ended in lace, and matching satin baby slippers. We opened the package, and wondered what they were thinking.
I slowly got over it. I realized pink is not the enemy. Pink is cute. And on my daughter's darker coloring, certain pinks look great. My best friend Laura even sent me a pink cashmere sweater she found at a second hand shop in Germantown. She told me to put it on, that I had to get over pink. The problems are out there, but don't blame pink.
I've tried to come to terms with pink, aesthetically, anyway. I have to admit, the culture of pink still scares me. I worry about our girls, about the messages they receive. I worry that not enough has changed, that their futures will be limited. I'm not doctrinaire, actually, and I have come to love what pink does. I love not having to shun such a delightful color, to wear it happily. Bu still, I worry, and I don't know whether I worry about this one too much, or too little.
When my daughter was in pre-K, for Halloween all the girls dressed in versions of pink. Ballerinas. Fairy Princesses. Ruling Princesses. Fairies. Butterflies. I have several years of preschool pictures and parties in which 8 girl toddlers are all wearing pink.
How does this happen. These kids all have progressive parents who hate pink, who know about the pink problem.
Is it the return of the pink repressed? The 70's ban on fairy princess costumes, coming back to haunt? What is that propels groups of girls to run in pink?
I could end this by damning pink. Except I can't.
Halloween 2003. Kindergarten. The girls are still wearing pink, or at least, versions of princessdom. My daughter is Belle, clothed in billowing yellow. As I watch the kids in their parade, I start up a conversation with the mom and dad of a fifth grader. I make a joke about all the pink. It's a progressive school. Everyone knows the code of pink. But exactly what is that? Am I 20 years out of date? If I bum too much about pink and other symbols, I might lose sight of the real problems, like is my daughter being taught Math well enough, and why do the boys in her class play chess in the morning while the girls color? The recent cultural debates about females, innate sex differences and math talents (see below) haunt me as I watch my daughter learn math.
"Don't worry about it," the mom said. "Look."
I look. The PreK had passed. The kindergarten and first grade had passed. In front of our eyes were the second graders, and the third, and then, the fourth.
The other mom was absolutely right. The color had changed. Dramatically. No more pink. All of a sudden, it's black. After second grade, the girls, nearly all of them were wearing black. The lower school kids all march with their partners from the middle school. The middle school kids are too cool for costumes, and they wear their usual shades of dark. The palette moves quickly from perky princess pink to deep black. In my daughter's class, the girls are now versions of vampires, vantessas, black cats and witches. As with the pink phase, all the types overlap. Don't ask me to point out the vantessas (a new word to me) from the witches, that's a whole other comment on the culture of six-and-seven year old best friend girls.
I'm still concerned about the gender culture our girls are growing up into. I'm focused on how well they are being taught, and on how to help my daughter sort out the different messages on Princess Diaries 2. But after seeing how quickly it's overtaken by neo-goth black, I'm no longer scared by little girl pink.
He tells me he's appalled at the pink clothes everyone is sending for his infant daughter. "What about me makes them think that I want my daughter clothed in pink?" he asks.
I admit, I've come to terms with pink. I grew up, like many, knowing that pink is evil. Pink is the antichrist of gender equality. All of our problems derive from, or are encoded by.....pink.
So, yes. I too, at the beginning, was appalled by the ubiquity of pink, at baby shops divided by a sea of blue and pink, by the difficult search for, oh, green, yellow, anything not pastel. I was horrified by the frills. Someone sent us a satiny pink dress, even, with a peter pan collar that ended in lace, and matching satin baby slippers. We opened the package, and wondered what they were thinking.
I slowly got over it. I realized pink is not the enemy. Pink is cute. And on my daughter's darker coloring, certain pinks look great. My best friend Laura even sent me a pink cashmere sweater she found at a second hand shop in Germantown. She told me to put it on, that I had to get over pink. The problems are out there, but don't blame pink.
I've tried to come to terms with pink, aesthetically, anyway. I have to admit, the culture of pink still scares me. I worry about our girls, about the messages they receive. I worry that not enough has changed, that their futures will be limited. I'm not doctrinaire, actually, and I have come to love what pink does. I love not having to shun such a delightful color, to wear it happily. Bu still, I worry, and I don't know whether I worry about this one too much, or too little.
When my daughter was in pre-K, for Halloween all the girls dressed in versions of pink. Ballerinas. Fairy Princesses. Ruling Princesses. Fairies. Butterflies. I have several years of preschool pictures and parties in which 8 girl toddlers are all wearing pink.
How does this happen. These kids all have progressive parents who hate pink, who know about the pink problem.
Is it the return of the pink repressed? The 70's ban on fairy princess costumes, coming back to haunt? What is that propels groups of girls to run in pink?
I could end this by damning pink. Except I can't.
Halloween 2003. Kindergarten. The girls are still wearing pink, or at least, versions of princessdom. My daughter is Belle, clothed in billowing yellow. As I watch the kids in their parade, I start up a conversation with the mom and dad of a fifth grader. I make a joke about all the pink. It's a progressive school. Everyone knows the code of pink. But exactly what is that? Am I 20 years out of date? If I bum too much about pink and other symbols, I might lose sight of the real problems, like is my daughter being taught Math well enough, and why do the boys in her class play chess in the morning while the girls color? The recent cultural debates about females, innate sex differences and math talents (see below) haunt me as I watch my daughter learn math.
"Don't worry about it," the mom said. "Look."
I look. The PreK had passed. The kindergarten and first grade had passed. In front of our eyes were the second graders, and the third, and then, the fourth.
The other mom was absolutely right. The color had changed. Dramatically. No more pink. All of a sudden, it's black. After second grade, the girls, nearly all of them were wearing black. The lower school kids all march with their partners from the middle school. The middle school kids are too cool for costumes, and they wear their usual shades of dark. The palette moves quickly from perky princess pink to deep black. In my daughter's class, the girls are now versions of vampires, vantessas, black cats and witches. As with the pink phase, all the types overlap. Don't ask me to point out the vantessas (a new word to me) from the witches, that's a whole other comment on the culture of six-and-seven year old best friend girls.
I'm still concerned about the gender culture our girls are growing up into. I'm focused on how well they are being taught, and on how to help my daughter sort out the different messages on Princess Diaries 2. But after seeing how quickly it's overtaken by neo-goth black, I'm no longer scared by little girl pink.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
It's Not about Biology
We moms and women have been getting it from all directions lately, and the hit we're taking is biology. Suddenly, all over the media, it's the return of biology as the arbiter of women's and mothers' destinies.
Last Thursday it was Maureen Dowd's column Men Just Want Mommy that inexplicitly let stand a statement that powerful men marry less powerful women because of an evolutionary demand. Instead of dealing with complex issues, biology comes to the rescue. She shoud come visit my neighborhood, where every married woman I knew is married to a similarly smart man. Also, women live with each other. Men live with each other. That seems more evolutionary to me, in the best sense.
Score: D on explanation, D on sociology.
Then Saturday it was David Brooks' column, Empty Nests, and Hearts. Women should marry and have babies in their twenties when our bodies are most up for it, and think about our careers later. Now, the government can help by offering tax credits and tuition credits for mothers who have done this, and now are ready to go to graduate school and start a profession. Excellent marks for making the link beween motherhood and public policy. This doesn't happen often enough. However, poor grade on telling us that we should have babies to help the nation.
Score: A on public policy link, D on sociology.
Then there's the Lawrence Sumners debate at Harvard. The reason that women haven't succeeded in careers in math, science and engineering is due to innate sex differences. Biology again. It's not about sexism, it's not about men in those fields keeping women out. It's biology. Gender bias has nothing to do with it. And then there's those 80 hour work weeks. I interviewed a woman for my book who quit her engineering job when they refused to let her pump, after her first baby. She wanted to work, they wouldn't accommodate, she was the only woman in the firm. So much for biology, sounds like old-fashioned sexism to me.
Score: D, all round.
Miriam's non-biological answer: It's as if folks are tired of dealing with all the real social issues involved, all the patterns, all the inequities. So they just resort to biology as a quick and dirty explanation of why we can't make life better for all of us.
Last Thursday it was Maureen Dowd's column Men Just Want Mommy that inexplicitly let stand a statement that powerful men marry less powerful women because of an evolutionary demand. Instead of dealing with complex issues, biology comes to the rescue. She shoud come visit my neighborhood, where every married woman I knew is married to a similarly smart man. Also, women live with each other. Men live with each other. That seems more evolutionary to me, in the best sense.
Score: D on explanation, D on sociology.
Then Saturday it was David Brooks' column, Empty Nests, and Hearts. Women should marry and have babies in their twenties when our bodies are most up for it, and think about our careers later. Now, the government can help by offering tax credits and tuition credits for mothers who have done this, and now are ready to go to graduate school and start a profession. Excellent marks for making the link beween motherhood and public policy. This doesn't happen often enough. However, poor grade on telling us that we should have babies to help the nation.
Score: A on public policy link, D on sociology.
Then there's the Lawrence Sumners debate at Harvard. The reason that women haven't succeeded in careers in math, science and engineering is due to innate sex differences. Biology again. It's not about sexism, it's not about men in those fields keeping women out. It's biology. Gender bias has nothing to do with it. And then there's those 80 hour work weeks. I interviewed a woman for my book who quit her engineering job when they refused to let her pump, after her first baby. She wanted to work, they wouldn't accommodate, she was the only woman in the firm. So much for biology, sounds like old-fashioned sexism to me.
Score: D, all round.
Miriam's non-biological answer: It's as if folks are tired of dealing with all the real social issues involved, all the patterns, all the inequities. So they just resort to biology as a quick and dirty explanation of why we can't make life better for all of us.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Promises!
Friends, I begin the new year with a promise to blog more often, much more often, and here goes.
One of the many things I do in the book is write about people and organizations who are trying to make life easier for mothers, fathers and families. This morning I had coffee with Dana Barron, who directs the Alice Paul Center for Research on Women and Gender at the University of Pennsylvania. Among the many hats she wears, Dana researches work-family issues for women of different classes: poor women, affluent women, middle-class women. She's concerned about how these issues work out across America's very diverse communities. Dana strongly believes that academic life should be linked with communal life, and has made connections between her research center and local organizations like the Third Path Institute. They're at www.thirdpath.org.
Third Path is pushing 'shared care' as one response to the struggles many of us face about work, family and time. For this group, shared care describes families in which parents are the primary caretakers of their kids, and they also are actively engaged in other work. It's about creating a life that doesn't have to be split between the either/or of work and family.
I visited their website for a while. I'll tell you what I liked. It has a vision. When you read the book you'll know that I'm big into visions about how we're getting out of the work-family mess. The usual, magazine-type banter on balancing work and family usually focuses on the family side of it all. We moms get household tips and are advised on how best to manage our time and direct our families so that we're as efficient as possible. Now, I love household tips, too, especially those promises to accomplish the impossible, like getting rid of the piles of paper that live on my kitchen counters.
But honing our households can never be enough. It can never fully solve the real problems, and we know that.
Third Path emphasizes that workplaces need to change, yes, but untill they do, we--families, moms, dads--can be as creative as possible. We can take what control we have to create what we can. Their vision is hopeful. They want to support families in figuring out our visions of family life. What do we want? Are we working enough? Working too much? Are there parts of work that might be more flexible? How do we get the support we need from family and friends?
What I found most reassuring was this: They believe we have agency, even in this most fraught and often overwhelming area of work-family life. So check them out.
And for any lawyers reading, their first annual conference was last May: Having a Life: Creating Work-Life Balance in the Law, May 2004. The conference site contains lots of stories about and strategies for dealing with family life and a legal career more creatively. Pass it on, because like many professions, law has been hard on lawyer-parents who want to parent more actively, moms especially.
One of the many things I do in the book is write about people and organizations who are trying to make life easier for mothers, fathers and families. This morning I had coffee with Dana Barron, who directs the Alice Paul Center for Research on Women and Gender at the University of Pennsylvania. Among the many hats she wears, Dana researches work-family issues for women of different classes: poor women, affluent women, middle-class women. She's concerned about how these issues work out across America's very diverse communities. Dana strongly believes that academic life should be linked with communal life, and has made connections between her research center and local organizations like the Third Path Institute. They're at www.thirdpath.org.
Third Path is pushing 'shared care' as one response to the struggles many of us face about work, family and time. For this group, shared care describes families in which parents are the primary caretakers of their kids, and they also are actively engaged in other work. It's about creating a life that doesn't have to be split between the either/or of work and family.
I visited their website for a while. I'll tell you what I liked. It has a vision. When you read the book you'll know that I'm big into visions about how we're getting out of the work-family mess. The usual, magazine-type banter on balancing work and family usually focuses on the family side of it all. We moms get household tips and are advised on how best to manage our time and direct our families so that we're as efficient as possible. Now, I love household tips, too, especially those promises to accomplish the impossible, like getting rid of the piles of paper that live on my kitchen counters.
But honing our households can never be enough. It can never fully solve the real problems, and we know that.
Third Path emphasizes that workplaces need to change, yes, but untill they do, we--families, moms, dads--can be as creative as possible. We can take what control we have to create what we can. Their vision is hopeful. They want to support families in figuring out our visions of family life. What do we want? Are we working enough? Working too much? Are there parts of work that might be more flexible? How do we get the support we need from family and friends?
What I found most reassuring was this: They believe we have agency, even in this most fraught and often overwhelming area of work-family life. So check them out.
And for any lawyers reading, their first annual conference was last May: Having a Life: Creating Work-Life Balance in the Law, May 2004. The conference site contains lots of stories about and strategies for dealing with family life and a legal career more creatively. Pass it on, because like many professions, law has been hard on lawyer-parents who want to parent more actively, moms especially.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Page Proofs, I
A little bit on me: I'm a mom, trained as a professor, once a fulltime, just tenured professor, who quit when my daughter was born. I now teach part time. And write. And parent. That's right, I quit and gave up tenure and a job for life, all because life is complicated. Or was it I just got mad that my university didn't have real maternity leave?
I was at a conference this past weekend, in Chicago. One of the panels featured a study that had been done on Jewish communal life and why women weren't rising to the top, to run organizations. It's a different field than mine, but the analysis, by Shifra Bronznick and Sherry Israel, was excellent. There's so much talk these days about mothers opting out, but that's not the way they explain it. they look instead to issues like, was there enough professional development for women? was there sufficient support and flexibility to accommodate family life? Their questions were so empowering--mothers who quit jobs still feel like somehow we've failed. Had we only been stronger, more competent, we could do the balance of work and family that others seem skilled at. Women who work hard and end up never reaching the top think it's about their skill--or lack of it.
Most of my book "The Truth Behind the Mommy Wars" is about the falacy of such things. That workplaces squeeze us out by not adjusting to our lives as parents. That many mothers who look like they're making it all work aren't--they're either hiding the effort it takes to keep kids and worklife going, or they have housekeepers or other help, or a decent job that really ends at five and doesn't have stress, or they're among the few and the proud mothers who are totally organized and efficient. The rest of us--we're just struggling, whether we're working fulltime, or at home, or trying to do some part time work, too.
In real life, the panelists were saying, it's that men are mentored and women aren't. Mentor women and we will rise to the top. Give us family flexibility and help us through those first extremely tough years, or welcome us back in after a few family-raising years off, and we'll do well.
In an earlier draft of the book, I wrote a prose-poetry chapter that kept giving reasons for why I quit my job as a feminist professor to be a mom. The reasons kept changing. They were many. I was mad, I was bored, I was tired of commuting to a city seven hours away each week, I was burnt out because I had to work so hard for tenure, I was enthralled by the idea of life at home with a young child. I kept going. A full chapter of all the reasons one woman quits out.
At the conference, then, I found myself telling a single version: I quit because there was no maternity leave. Because I realized I had worked my butt off for my career, and in return, that career didn't care a hoot about whether I had a baby and some extra needs because of it. The thing is, my university goofed. They had invested thousands of dollars into my research; had given me summer grants to study in Britain and in Turkey. They gave me teaching prizes, and when I received an outside grant, they matched the funds. Yes, they lost it all because they didn't have maternity leave policies for professors. Their policy book still assumed that professors were men (as if dads too don't need time off when a new baby arrives...). the secretaries did find a way to patch together some sick time for me, and if I remember, a dean offered me a faux-research leave--but I would have had to produce some new writing--during my child's first four months--and I needed to promise I'd return after. I had the good instinct to say no on both accounts.
All that work they demanded I do for tenure, they couldn't even offer paid family leave, on its own merits.
After listening to the panel, I've decided to contact my old workplace and see whether they ever changed their policy. Does a certain Florida university now offer paid family leave to professors? It may take time to figure out, but stay tuned.....
I was at a conference this past weekend, in Chicago. One of the panels featured a study that had been done on Jewish communal life and why women weren't rising to the top, to run organizations. It's a different field than mine, but the analysis, by Shifra Bronznick and Sherry Israel, was excellent. There's so much talk these days about mothers opting out, but that's not the way they explain it. they look instead to issues like, was there enough professional development for women? was there sufficient support and flexibility to accommodate family life? Their questions were so empowering--mothers who quit jobs still feel like somehow we've failed. Had we only been stronger, more competent, we could do the balance of work and family that others seem skilled at. Women who work hard and end up never reaching the top think it's about their skill--or lack of it.
Most of my book "The Truth Behind the Mommy Wars" is about the falacy of such things. That workplaces squeeze us out by not adjusting to our lives as parents. That many mothers who look like they're making it all work aren't--they're either hiding the effort it takes to keep kids and worklife going, or they have housekeepers or other help, or a decent job that really ends at five and doesn't have stress, or they're among the few and the proud mothers who are totally organized and efficient. The rest of us--we're just struggling, whether we're working fulltime, or at home, or trying to do some part time work, too.
In real life, the panelists were saying, it's that men are mentored and women aren't. Mentor women and we will rise to the top. Give us family flexibility and help us through those first extremely tough years, or welcome us back in after a few family-raising years off, and we'll do well.
In an earlier draft of the book, I wrote a prose-poetry chapter that kept giving reasons for why I quit my job as a feminist professor to be a mom. The reasons kept changing. They were many. I was mad, I was bored, I was tired of commuting to a city seven hours away each week, I was burnt out because I had to work so hard for tenure, I was enthralled by the idea of life at home with a young child. I kept going. A full chapter of all the reasons one woman quits out.
At the conference, then, I found myself telling a single version: I quit because there was no maternity leave. Because I realized I had worked my butt off for my career, and in return, that career didn't care a hoot about whether I had a baby and some extra needs because of it. The thing is, my university goofed. They had invested thousands of dollars into my research; had given me summer grants to study in Britain and in Turkey. They gave me teaching prizes, and when I received an outside grant, they matched the funds. Yes, they lost it all because they didn't have maternity leave policies for professors. Their policy book still assumed that professors were men (as if dads too don't need time off when a new baby arrives...). the secretaries did find a way to patch together some sick time for me, and if I remember, a dean offered me a faux-research leave--but I would have had to produce some new writing--during my child's first four months--and I needed to promise I'd return after. I had the good instinct to say no on both accounts.
All that work they demanded I do for tenure, they couldn't even offer paid family leave, on its own merits.
After listening to the panel, I've decided to contact my old workplace and see whether they ever changed their policy. Does a certain Florida university now offer paid family leave to professors? It may take time to figure out, but stay tuned.....
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Okay, it's serious
Yes, it's become a rather serious blog.
I didn't plan it that way. I thought I could pull off writing a happy cheery book-and-blog that still managed to give voice to the real problems facing women, and mothers in particular, and how we rarely get a chance to talk about these things.
I wanted to keep it perky. In real life I like to laugh. I like to joke, and I like to smile. When I first drafted the book, it was all in a first person voice. It wasn't supposed to be memoir, but still, I was the guide through the world of early motherhood and its social politics. I wanted to capture the fun of it all-you know, hanging at the playground, making new friends, watching toddlers do jellyrolls down a slow hill while miraculously avoiding all traces of dog poop. I wanted to show that one can be serious about the world and the need for change, and still care about how to make an excellent dinner party. The first draft even included a few recipes. The idea was to combine the daily practicality of life with children, of life as a woman trying to take time off from a career without ditching it all, with more philosophical ruminations of why it's still so hard to combine work and motherhood, why none of our options are excellent.
No one wanted to publish that version. it mixed genres, I was told by various editors.
In the meantime, a good book, a serious book, by a fabulous new writer who's rather fun over the telephone, as I discovered when I interviewed her for my book: check out Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner: The F-Word.
I didn't plan it that way. I thought I could pull off writing a happy cheery book-and-blog that still managed to give voice to the real problems facing women, and mothers in particular, and how we rarely get a chance to talk about these things.
I wanted to keep it perky. In real life I like to laugh. I like to joke, and I like to smile. When I first drafted the book, it was all in a first person voice. It wasn't supposed to be memoir, but still, I was the guide through the world of early motherhood and its social politics. I wanted to capture the fun of it all-you know, hanging at the playground, making new friends, watching toddlers do jellyrolls down a slow hill while miraculously avoiding all traces of dog poop. I wanted to show that one can be serious about the world and the need for change, and still care about how to make an excellent dinner party. The first draft even included a few recipes. The idea was to combine the daily practicality of life with children, of life as a woman trying to take time off from a career without ditching it all, with more philosophical ruminations of why it's still so hard to combine work and motherhood, why none of our options are excellent.
No one wanted to publish that version. it mixed genres, I was told by various editors.
In the meantime, a good book, a serious book, by a fabulous new writer who's rather fun over the telephone, as I discovered when I interviewed her for my book: check out Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner: The F-Word.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
really, this happened, or, domestic labor really was invisible
It's unbelievable, true, but here's what happened, just an hour or so after I wrote the last entry. The scene: a family holiday dinner, kids all around, siblings, great aunts, granparents. My mother in law spent all week preparing. Chopping for the beef stew. Grating potatoes for the latkes. Baking two cakes. Making her own apple sauce, which, I know, it's easy to buy very good apple sauce these days, but she loves making her own. She's 79, and this is the way she's always done it. She set a gorgeous table, two actually, one in the dining room for the adults, and put a cloth on the kitchen table for the kids.
After it was over, most of us adults were in the kitchen, cleaning up. My father in law was with his sister in the dining room. it turns out that though they've been married over fifty years, this is the first dinner party she's thrown that he ever helped out with. He was proud of his contributions, and he was beside himself: he couldn't believe how much work it took to pull the dinner together. For him it was one of those 'ah-ha' moments. As in, the floor doesn't sweep itself. The garbage I put in front of my house doesn't go away by itself. Dinner parties don't cook themselves.
He finally got it. And in his excitement, he said to his sister, a woman in her 70's who has spent many a week preparing many a dinner party, "You have no idea how much work goes into a dinner party."
The poor dear. He meant well. He meant to convey to the women around him that he finally realizes the extent of their labor, cooking all those meals he has so enjoyed.
His sister was furious. "You are so stupid," she said, losing her temper. "You are so stupid. Of course I know how much work goes into a dinner party. I've been making them all my life."
The rest of the apartment grew quiet. In the past I've been the one to raise my voice and quiet the place down, so I was glad to have some company in that regard. One time I had to yell at an older man who was harassing my daughter. I told him that if he didn't stop I was going to raise my voice so everyone would know. He ignored me, kept teasing my then-four-year-old daughter, I raised my voice and yelled at him to stop. All the relatives turned toward us, silent, until his wife ushered him out. He's never been invited back to a family meal.
"You don't know. Believe me, I know how much work it takes." And she huffed into the other room, repeating how stupid he was.
Now, name-calling aside, and they did make up later, there it was, clear as daylight, the invisibility of women's domestic labor. Over fifty years they've been married, and while he's been appreciative and admiring of the women in his life, he's never exactly realized--till now-- how much labor they performed.
After it was over, most of us adults were in the kitchen, cleaning up. My father in law was with his sister in the dining room. it turns out that though they've been married over fifty years, this is the first dinner party she's thrown that he ever helped out with. He was proud of his contributions, and he was beside himself: he couldn't believe how much work it took to pull the dinner together. For him it was one of those 'ah-ha' moments. As in, the floor doesn't sweep itself. The garbage I put in front of my house doesn't go away by itself. Dinner parties don't cook themselves.
He finally got it. And in his excitement, he said to his sister, a woman in her 70's who has spent many a week preparing many a dinner party, "You have no idea how much work goes into a dinner party."
The poor dear. He meant well. He meant to convey to the women around him that he finally realizes the extent of their labor, cooking all those meals he has so enjoyed.
His sister was furious. "You are so stupid," she said, losing her temper. "You are so stupid. Of course I know how much work goes into a dinner party. I've been making them all my life."
The rest of the apartment grew quiet. In the past I've been the one to raise my voice and quiet the place down, so I was glad to have some company in that regard. One time I had to yell at an older man who was harassing my daughter. I told him that if he didn't stop I was going to raise my voice so everyone would know. He ignored me, kept teasing my then-four-year-old daughter, I raised my voice and yelled at him to stop. All the relatives turned toward us, silent, until his wife ushered him out. He's never been invited back to a family meal.
"You don't know. Believe me, I know how much work it takes." And she huffed into the other room, repeating how stupid he was.
Now, name-calling aside, and they did make up later, there it was, clear as daylight, the invisibility of women's domestic labor. Over fifty years they've been married, and while he's been appreciative and admiring of the women in his life, he's never exactly realized--till now-- how much labor they performed.
housework is political
Today I'm thinking about the labor of everyday life. About what it takes to create a happy family life, and how many minutes, hours of time are devoted to it. Tonight's a big family hanukah party. We will all enjoy it. And my husband's mother has been cooking and freezing and prepping all week. The holidays have begun, and that means dinners to plan and prepare, and family to host, not to mention presents to procure. Last saturday, with a long list in hand, I took my husband with me to the stores in Chestnut Hill. I wanted him to be part of the process. In as natural a way as possible, I wanted him to realize the time it takes to buy presents, the way your throat gets dry after sorting through too many stores, the way you get hot because your coat's on, the tedium that takes over (okay, I've never been much of a shopper....)
I wanted him to see it, to take part, because I've gotten into the habit of doing all the present-buying for his family, as well as for my own. That's me wracking my brain to figure out what all the tween and teen cousins might like. It's horrible to admit that. Horrible, because it's just so gendered, so predictible, that women end up doing so much of the labor that keeps families going. When my brother married, his new wife took on all the responsibilities of his relations with his family. She's wonderful, but shouldn't he take responsibility? So there I was, realizing that the responsibility for
We mothers do too much work. And we rarely count it. It becomes the white noise of our lives. A few years back, when my daughter started fullday school, I began working again, and hired a housekeeper to stop by once every other week. I hadn't been aware of how much time it took me to keep our house clean until I saw him working, till I counted the hours that he scrubbed and dusted and changed linens. Housework is political, feminists of the early 70's knew that, but it's one of their insights that we've lost.
I wanted him to see it, to take part, because I've gotten into the habit of doing all the present-buying for his family, as well as for my own. That's me wracking my brain to figure out what all the tween and teen cousins might like. It's horrible to admit that. Horrible, because it's just so gendered, so predictible, that women end up doing so much of the labor that keeps families going. When my brother married, his new wife took on all the responsibilities of his relations with his family. She's wonderful, but shouldn't he take responsibility? So there I was, realizing that the responsibility for
We mothers do too much work. And we rarely count it. It becomes the white noise of our lives. A few years back, when my daughter started fullday school, I began working again, and hired a housekeeper to stop by once every other week. I hadn't been aware of how much time it took me to keep our house clean until I saw him working, till I counted the hours that he scrubbed and dusted and changed linens. Housework is political, feminists of the early 70's knew that, but it's one of their insights that we've lost.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Anonymity
In the past six weeks of silence I finished the book, got sick again (writing can sure wear a body out), worked through copy edits and fact check, and the Truth Behind the Mommy Wars is now in production! Which means I can return to blogging much more regularly...
On my mind today. At the last minute, one of the many mothers I interviewed for my book told me how uncomfortable she felt with the several paragraphs I had written about her. I had used only her first name, but she decided she didn't want her name used. She wanted all details that could identify her deleted. She just plain felt uncomfortable with seeing herself in print. Her story was one of giving up her job when her daughter was born, of several moves, including one to a very glamorous European city, which I can't mention because I must respect her need for absolute privacy, and then returning to the US and working quite hard for severeal years to put herself in position for a new professional job. It's an important story that speaks to the problems that many mothers and fathers have when they take time off with young children and then look for new, decent work. It's the reentry problem.
She's not the only person I interviewed who wanted anonymity and privacy after agreeing to talk with me about the frustrations and joys of family life.
And I understand that many mothers don't want to raise a fuss, that we are afraid what others will think.
It's also true in my book that the fathers had no problem with using first names, last names, they wanted all the details in. they had confidence. Many, many of the mothers were more afraid. They wanted to talk, but became timid about speaking out in public. Which we understand. It's sad to see something I write about--mothers being timid about raising a fuss--played out so poignantly, and personally.
I understand that it can be quite horrifying to see oneself in print. We have relatively few models of literature about the everyday details of mothers' lives
On my mind today. At the last minute, one of the many mothers I interviewed for my book told me how uncomfortable she felt with the several paragraphs I had written about her. I had used only her first name, but she decided she didn't want her name used. She wanted all details that could identify her deleted. She just plain felt uncomfortable with seeing herself in print. Her story was one of giving up her job when her daughter was born, of several moves, including one to a very glamorous European city, which I can't mention because I must respect her need for absolute privacy, and then returning to the US and working quite hard for severeal years to put herself in position for a new professional job. It's an important story that speaks to the problems that many mothers and fathers have when they take time off with young children and then look for new, decent work. It's the reentry problem.
She's not the only person I interviewed who wanted anonymity and privacy after agreeing to talk with me about the frustrations and joys of family life.
And I understand that many mothers don't want to raise a fuss, that we are afraid what others will think.
It's also true in my book that the fathers had no problem with using first names, last names, they wanted all the details in. they had confidence. Many, many of the mothers were more afraid. They wanted to talk, but became timid about speaking out in public. Which we understand. It's sad to see something I write about--mothers being timid about raising a fuss--played out so poignantly, and personally.
I understand that it can be quite horrifying to see oneself in print. We have relatively few models of literature about the everyday details of mothers' lives
Friday, October 15, 2004
Check Out MamasInk.com
I've been sick, one of those weird virusy-flu things that seem to have hit this fair city earlier than usual this year, but here's a new post.
I want everyone to know about this group blog: MamasInk, at www.MamasInk.com. The mamas writing in are part of the MamaWriters group, and they include some of everyone's fave mama writers, like Ann Douglas, and Andrea Buchanan, and Ayun Halliday, and Katie Alison Granju, and Hillary Flowers, and Erica Lutz, and many, many more. I'm there too.
What I love about this site, well, beyond the fact that these mamas are damn good writers and make beautiful use of words and vision, is the example it sets. Of mothers working together on a project. Everyone could go their own separate way, do motherhood in isolation, and write in isolation, not trusting others. But this site, and the MamaWriters in general, have a broader, wider vision of women trusting each other and working together.
This vision we need.
And thanks to Anne-Marie at A Mama's Rant for her great blog about my blog. She's at http://mamarant.blogs.com/a_mamas_rant/, so stop on by. And one of these days I'll figure out how to do my links. Feel free, anyone, to send me advice!
I want everyone to know about this group blog: MamasInk, at www.MamasInk.com. The mamas writing in are part of the MamaWriters group, and they include some of everyone's fave mama writers, like Ann Douglas, and Andrea Buchanan, and Ayun Halliday, and Katie Alison Granju, and Hillary Flowers, and Erica Lutz, and many, many more. I'm there too.
What I love about this site, well, beyond the fact that these mamas are damn good writers and make beautiful use of words and vision, is the example it sets. Of mothers working together on a project. Everyone could go their own separate way, do motherhood in isolation, and write in isolation, not trusting others. But this site, and the MamaWriters in general, have a broader, wider vision of women trusting each other and working together.
This vision we need.
And thanks to Anne-Marie at A Mama's Rant for her great blog about my blog. She's at http://mamarant.blogs.com/a_mamas_rant/, so stop on by. And one of these days I'll figure out how to do my links. Feel free, anyone, to send me advice!
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Thanks, and Look What California's Up To....
Since I'm just getting in, I want to thank the other bloggers who are helping me learn lingo, do links, etc.--esp you, Danya! Almost about to happen are links to sites that are now linking here, so new friends, please be patient while I learn!
Back to parenting issues. Spoke yesterday with a delightful woman in San Jose who's among the first families to use California's new Paid Family Leave. Does everyone know about it? It's yet another reason so many of us want to live in CA, as opposed to, say, the gritty city of Philadelphia where I so humbly abide. Grit vs. glamour aside, the state of california now provides wage replacement for families who have just had babies, adopted babies, or who have to care for sick family members. The state will replace about 55% of your wages (up to a salary cap in the 60,000 range) for six weeks. Moms and Dads both. And mothers who give birth can also collect state disability insurance in addition (I know, it's weird to classify pregnancy as disability, but this is about real, material assistance....). That's major help. The San Jose woman I spoke with was able to cover her 12 weeks of family leave between the two programs. The stats tell us that most people eligible for FMLA can't afford it, so to have a state that makes family leave affordable is major.
One issue, though, is that not everyone knows about it, and like many things parental and child-related, affluent parents usually have the buzz before everyone else, so spread the word to everyone you know in California. Look here in the future for info on organizations that are doing action alerts in other states about this.
And here's the website if you're reading this and you're in California and you're about to bring a new baby into your family, or you have other reasons for needing some paid relief from work: the general link is www.edd.ca.gov, and for the secret/little-known disability pay after pregnancy, look at www.edd.ca.gov/direp/difaq1.htm#Pregnancy.
That's all for now, have a pleasant night!
Back to parenting issues. Spoke yesterday with a delightful woman in San Jose who's among the first families to use California's new Paid Family Leave. Does everyone know about it? It's yet another reason so many of us want to live in CA, as opposed to, say, the gritty city of Philadelphia where I so humbly abide. Grit vs. glamour aside, the state of california now provides wage replacement for families who have just had babies, adopted babies, or who have to care for sick family members. The state will replace about 55% of your wages (up to a salary cap in the 60,000 range) for six weeks. Moms and Dads both. And mothers who give birth can also collect state disability insurance in addition (I know, it's weird to classify pregnancy as disability, but this is about real, material assistance....). That's major help. The San Jose woman I spoke with was able to cover her 12 weeks of family leave between the two programs. The stats tell us that most people eligible for FMLA can't afford it, so to have a state that makes family leave affordable is major.
One issue, though, is that not everyone knows about it, and like many things parental and child-related, affluent parents usually have the buzz before everyone else, so spread the word to everyone you know in California. Look here in the future for info on organizations that are doing action alerts in other states about this.
And here's the website if you're reading this and you're in California and you're about to bring a new baby into your family, or you have other reasons for needing some paid relief from work: the general link is www.edd.ca.gov, and for the secret/little-known disability pay after pregnancy, look at www.edd.ca.gov/direp/difaq1.htm#Pregnancy.
That's all for now, have a pleasant night!
Monday, October 04, 2004
What's a Mother Need to Know?
What does a mother need to know?
That's the final question I posed today to Judith Stadtman Tucker, the editor and visionary force of Mothers Movement Online. It came at the end of a long interview. For those who don't know Mothers Movement Online (mothersmovement.org), check it out. It's an online voice for smart motherhood and for mothers who want to think about parenting in a social and political framework.
I interviewed Judy because the final part of my book talks about efforts to make social change, both DC and state capital policy and legislative action, and more grass roots efforts, too.
Judy runs Mothers Movement Online on her own dime, and through her own effort. It's not an organization, it's just her, and it's her fulltime unpaid job. Her desk's in the middle of her house, and her writing takes place amid her two boys moving through.
So what does a mother need to know? Her answer: "that motherhood takes place within a social context. It's not confined within your heart or within the four walls of your home. The expectations we have of mothers and the outcome of mothering are very much shaped by values, by how our society is ordered. Mothers need to know how to develop some critical awareness. This gives mothers the ability to step back and say, this is really hard, but it's not something I'm doing wrong....The most important thing a mother can know is, it's not all about you and what you do. There's a much bigger picture, a whole network of social conditions that affect the way we can mother."
Book news: my title has been changed. Good bye to Playground Revolution. Hello to "The Truth Behind the Mommy Wars."
It's a loss of poetry in the service of a literal description of the book's contents. It wasn't my idea. It came when my editor presented it to national book buyers at the presales meeting last week. Apparently Playground Revolution was too scary, combined with a gritty urban playground on the cover. I'm still in lost-book-title grief, but as Andi Buchanan, author of the amazing Mothershock: Loving Every (Other) Minute of It, said, at least we get a kick-ass title for the blog!
I'm two weeks or so from finishing.
That's the final question I posed today to Judith Stadtman Tucker, the editor and visionary force of Mothers Movement Online. It came at the end of a long interview. For those who don't know Mothers Movement Online (mothersmovement.org), check it out. It's an online voice for smart motherhood and for mothers who want to think about parenting in a social and political framework.
I interviewed Judy because the final part of my book talks about efforts to make social change, both DC and state capital policy and legislative action, and more grass roots efforts, too.
Judy runs Mothers Movement Online on her own dime, and through her own effort. It's not an organization, it's just her, and it's her fulltime unpaid job. Her desk's in the middle of her house, and her writing takes place amid her two boys moving through.
So what does a mother need to know? Her answer: "that motherhood takes place within a social context. It's not confined within your heart or within the four walls of your home. The expectations we have of mothers and the outcome of mothering are very much shaped by values, by how our society is ordered. Mothers need to know how to develop some critical awareness. This gives mothers the ability to step back and say, this is really hard, but it's not something I'm doing wrong....The most important thing a mother can know is, it's not all about you and what you do. There's a much bigger picture, a whole network of social conditions that affect the way we can mother."
Book news: my title has been changed. Good bye to Playground Revolution. Hello to "The Truth Behind the Mommy Wars."
It's a loss of poetry in the service of a literal description of the book's contents. It wasn't my idea. It came when my editor presented it to national book buyers at the presales meeting last week. Apparently Playground Revolution was too scary, combined with a gritty urban playground on the cover. I'm still in lost-book-title grief, but as Andi Buchanan, author of the amazing Mothershock: Loving Every (Other) Minute of It, said, at least we get a kick-ass title for the blog!
I'm two weeks or so from finishing.
Monday, September 27, 2004
Starting Up
Hi, I'm Miriam Peskowitz, and I'm finishing up a book with the title Playground Revolution. Seal Press will publish it in May 2005, which is great news. Playground Revolution is about parents, mothers and fathers both, who are disatisfied with the alternatives for how to raise our kids and work for pay at the same time. Playground Revolution is nice and fun and warm, but it's also political. It's about the politics of parenting, not in an old-fashioned politically correct way. Not at all. I'm looking at the new ways that families are politicized, and the ways that mothers can think about the problems that ail us--like isolation, or overwork, or judgement, or anger, or even love--through a political lens. I'll also write about the process of getting new feminist ideas about parenting and family life out there in public.
This morning, for example, my husband called in after hearing the NPR report on "Security Moms." It makes me so mad. We've been through this with soccer mom, eight years ago. Seems every time there's a presidential election we mothers get stereocast into a new mold, as both parties vie for our attention. I know, I know, we're supposed to be mothers who are kind of liberal, maybe, but because we're really scared about national security, we'll vote republican, because we believe they will make our lives more secure. I don't think so.
I say, tell the pollsters, and the media, which is turning a pollster's creation into a new female stereotype: we are not security moms. Don't use us this way.
Have a great day, everyone, welcome to my blog, and tell me what you're thinking about.
This morning, for example, my husband called in after hearing the NPR report on "Security Moms." It makes me so mad. We've been through this with soccer mom, eight years ago. Seems every time there's a presidential election we mothers get stereocast into a new mold, as both parties vie for our attention. I know, I know, we're supposed to be mothers who are kind of liberal, maybe, but because we're really scared about national security, we'll vote republican, because we believe they will make our lives more secure. I don't think so.
I say, tell the pollsters, and the media, which is turning a pollster's creation into a new female stereotype: we are not security moms. Don't use us this way.
Have a great day, everyone, welcome to my blog, and tell me what you're thinking about.