Uncommon Opinion: I am a Working Mother in the US, and I’m Just Fine
It’s Mother’s Day today. It’s a day that started out celebrating mothers and that now celebrates all sorts of people who mother (I know that “days" don’t celebrate, since they’re actually just theoretical ideas, but you get what I mean). By and large, it’s a day focused on biologically-born females, which I will call BBF’s, of which I am one. Lucky me.
No really, lucky me.
I know a lot of people feel some deep feelings today. There will be commentary today about those who cannot have children of their own, who have lost children, who have complicated relationships with their mothers. I support that commentary as a way to validate those who feel sad. This is not one of those pieces of commentary.
Along with the need to validate sorrow when it appears, there’s also great joy to be had in being thankful.
I have read many voices lately about working women in the US feeling pulled in many different directions and the weight of many different expectations on us. This is a reminder to those of you in that camp that you are allowed to reframe these feelings, if you can.
With the exception of the very rare instance where someone bluntly states their mind, most of the time our feelings about pressures and expectations as a class of human are just that: *our* feelings. None of us are mind readers, so we don’t actually know what others expect. Also, fuck that. The expectation that matters most is the one that reaches out slowly, softly, in the quiet times of my your own mind. It’s the one that is you. Just you, when no one else is looking.
Maybe I have it easy, because I grew up in a home where social norms were often challenged by my sisters in both word and deed. Perhaps that helped me shed the cloak of what many working women feel was an oppressive social system. I always saw myself as able, capable of whatever I needed to do. The system was never a theoretical barrier for me. Wherever that lucky situation came from, I’m here to tell you that you are allowed to do this too. You are allowed to accept the narrative society tells you…or not.I am a successful, intentional attorney, entrepreneur, and mother, and I sure as hell didn’t get here believing that I was oppressed.
I did have actual barriers: For starters, I was the victim of a blitz-style sexual assault by a stranger in my own home, and subsequent major PTSD, at age twelve. I (relatedly) became quite depressed in high school. I didn’t even graduate high school (and I didn’t exactly want to anyway). But the barrier that “dropping out” creates to becoming what one wants to be is just theoretical; it’s just an idea presented by a social narrative. Little known fact: you don’t actually have to graduate high school, or even get a GED, to go to college. Another little-known fact: you can learn all sorts of things without public school. I got a book (from the library) and studied for the ACT, took it, passed it, and went to college in the summer (when they have lower barriers to entry, because they need more students to keep financially sound). Once you have any college transcript whatsoever, by the way, no one cares a lick about high school anymore. Not a lick.
I also had no money. I was a white girl in America with two parents, but they weren’t in a position to help with college; I had to pay my own way like many others do. And college was expensive. But I wasn’t oppressed by the college tuition system (though I do think it’s incredibly problematic). I made sure to do everything I could to pass those summer courses with straight A’s, which I did. Then, I applied as a regular student for the next semester and got accepted (plus a full scholarship so long as I maintained those straight A’s).
And here’s the flipside: despite the depression in high school and the financial burden in college, I gained so much from these situations that many call oppression. In high school, I gained hours and hours of time that I didn’t have to spend sitting in a classroom being lectured. I created art (a lot of it) and put it in a city art show, I learned html and made my own website from scratch, I choreographed dances, I got lots of sleep (probably too much). Knowing I had to pay my own way in college made it easier to carefully review tuition policies, choose a school that wasn’t ridiculously expensive, and work hard on my grades. So I “missed out” on something big in high school. I was a “dropout.” But we have to remember that every ‘yes’ is a ‘no’ to something else, and likewise, every ‘no’ is a ‘yes’ to something else. I said ‘no’ to many high school classes, and ‘yes’ to many, many hours of my own creativity. I said ‘no’ to additional student loans and ‘yes’ to working my ass off at getting good grades and living meagerly.
And that, I think is the kicker: the social narrative that working women are oppressed is paradoxical. On the one hand, we need to keep examining the results and the why’s of who is represented where and why. On the other hand, we BBFs would do well (for our own mental health and the health of society) to remember the benefits of being a woman in the US.
For one thing, I was not raised in a society full of messages that I would be relied on as the main breadwinner (and that my value as a human would be proportional to that role) and that I would be a small part of my children’s lives, if I had any. This message is particularly strong for men, however, as they are bombarded with that message from a very young age. As a woman in the US, working was seen as an option for me, and the type of work I did was seen as a choice of what I wanted to do, as opposed to what I needed to do to ensure my family had food on the table. I also had the option of not working, of staying home with my children without society so much as giving me a double take. And of course, I am not blind to the fact that many women, especially those raised by single mothers, do not have the privilege of that narrative. My point is not that women are prohibited from feeling sad about the hand they are dealt; it is just a reminder that everyone else is dealt a hand too, and we don’t always think about the cards of others.
After undergrad I chose to have a child. I also chose to go to law school. The number of people who looked at me with wide, scared eyes at learning of this “challenge” of doing both at once was vast…and also stark when considering the number of people who didn’t bat an eye at the many men in my sphere who were doing the exact same (expected) thing. Was it hard? Yes. Was it easy? Yes. In fact, having a child during law school made it possible for me to relax about the craziness that is law school, shed my type-A perfectionism, and be comfortable just learning rather than racing to be top of my class. It was glorious, actually.
And after law school, when my husband and I chose to leave our home and move to a new State without any prospects for work, I was hired by my top choice of offices but was met with another barrier when I discovered just how difficult it was going to be to meet the expectations of the working schedule of a new lawyer while being a mother. Working an average of 60+ hours per week was not leaving much time for mom stuff. But here’s the thing: that situation helped me see the cards that my male colleagues were dealt. There was a difference I noticed between the men and women in the office. It wasn’t a bad difference or a good difference. Just a difference. The women appeared to feel burdened by the schedule and the men seemed to be resigned to it. The women were feeling bad about working and “not being there” as much for their children (and their dogs…it was Colorado, after all). The men never had the vision of even being allowed to “be there” as much for their children (or dogs) in the first place.
So was I the victim of being pulled in many directions or was I the benefactor of even having the option of going in different directions to begin with?
I chose to be a working mother, which means I said ‘yes’ to working more and ‘no’ to being with my child as much. But I was still a mother by example. Isn’t that what we tell ourselves about dads? And when that became a schedule I no longer enjoyed, I had the opportunity to change direction and become an entrepreneur, which I did.
I was able to adjust my schedule so that I could spend a bit more time with my family and a bit less time working. I’m not sure I would have had the ovaries to do that had I not been raised in a society where working was seen as an option (as opposed to a requirement) for women.
So today, of all the days, I am thankful. I am thankful to be a working BBF in the US. I am thankful that I was raised in a home with many sisters who pushed back against social norms, and I am also thankful for the social norm that made working seem like an option for me. I am thankful for the women in my life who are struggling with expectations, and to them I say: push back. The boundaries are not always real. I am also thankful for the men in my life who are struggling with their expectations, and to them I say: push back. The boundaries are not always real.
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