“Never
until this very historical moment,” the late sociologist Jesse Bernard wrote in The Future of Motherhood, “have
women rebelled as many are now doing against the very way we institutionalize
motherhood.”
They are daring to
say that although they love children, they hate motherhood. That
they object to being assigned sole responsibility for child care.
That they object to having child care conceived of as their only
major activity. That they object to the isolation in which they
must perform the role of mother, cut off from help, from one another,
from the outside world. For the first time, they are protesting
the false aura of romanticism with which motherhood is endowed,
keeping from young women its terrible “hidden underside”
which “is hardly ever talked about.”
Bernard continues: “A group of women, basing their conclusions
on their own experiences as participant observers— or rather
observant participators— note almost point for point how the
way we institutionalize motherhood is bad for women. They call on
women to organize ‘to fight those aspects of our society that
make childbearing and child rearing stressful rather than fulfilling
experiences.’”
Considering that these observations were made over
30 years ago, the litany of grievances Bernard recorded— and mothers’
resolve to “to fight those aspects of our society that make
childbearing and child rearing stressful rather than fulfilling
experiences”— seem depressingly familiar. Bernard believed
the momentum of the mid-20th century women’s movement, coupled
with heightened concern about the depletion of the earth’s
natural resources due to overpopulation, would pave the way for
a more mother-friendly society, particularly for women who wanted
children but desired less child-centric lives. The key to all this,
she argued, would be forging a new “script” for 21st
century motherhood— a script offering an unsentimental appraisal
of the pros and cons of motherhood while promoting the revolutionary
idea that the well-rounded life of any mother involves more than
just mothering. Bernard predicted this seismic shift in cultural
consciousness would transform the way men and women share all the
necessary work of society— both paid work and unpaid caregiving—
and that policymakers would respond to the brave new order by implementing
a comprehensive system of social supports for working parents, including
paid parental leave, flexible workplaces, better options for part-time
work with good pay and opportunities for advancement, more educational
and occupational on- and off-ramps for women at all points in the
life course, and universal access to affordable, high-quality child
care.
Unfortunately, things didn’t exactly work out that way—
and here we are in 2005, still talking about the future of motherhood.
More importantly, some of us are talking about mobilizing an organized
social movement with the express purpose of shaping that future.
And while various groups claiming to represent the best interests
of mothers may envision this movement as a mothering movement,
a motherhood movement, or a mothers’ rights movement,
there is general agreement that a powerful confluence of unfavorable
social conditions— including cultural ideals assigning competing
values to the vital functions of public and private life, retrogressive
political trends, sex discrimination, pernicious stereotypes, intransigent
workplace standards, and inadequate or outdated social policies—
lie at the heart of the contemporary motherhood problem. We’re
all aware of how this problem plays out in the lives of women who
mother— of how, despite dramatic increases in their level
of paid employment, mothers continue to provide a disproportionate
share of the unpaid caregiving work that supports our families and
economy, and how this limits their occupational mobility and earning
potential. Activist mothers know the time mothers devote to unpaid
caregiving significantly increases the odds they will experience
financial insecurity and diminished well-being over the course of
a lifetime. And we all believe something must be done about it—
sooner rather than later.
In fact, the diverse proponents of the emerging mothers’
movement are quite clear about what they want the next future of
motherhood to look like. We want mothers to have better lives with
less role strain and better options for integrating work and family.
We want respect and recognition for the social and economic value
of mothers’ work— both paid employment and the unpaid
care work mothers do at home. We want more flexibility in the workplace,
and we want equal pay for equal work. We want public policies that
respond to the needs of dual-earner couples and single parent women,
we want reasonable protection from economic hardships mothers may
incur due to their maternal status, and we want men to take a more
active role in child-rearing and domestic life in general. We agree
that an organized social movement— a broad-based grassroots
uprising— will be crucial to achieving this kind of sweeping
change. However, there is a lack of consensus among mothers’
advocates about why change is necessary. Is it necessary to improve
the lives of women? Or is it necessary to improve the lives of children
and create a more humane and sustainable society?
Ultimately, the answer is “yes” to all of these commendable
goals. But as a writer and activist who views the objectives of
the mothers’ movement through the lens of progressive feminism,
I feel compelled to add a word of caution: If we want both public
respect and support for the work of mothering as well as equality
for women— meaning full social, economic and political citizenship
for all women, nothing more, and nothing less— we have a duty
to pay close attention to not just what we're asking for,
but how and why we're asking.
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