Throughout my life, I have watched and participated in the evolution of the role of women in today’s society. As I grew up, there was a strict division of labor within our household. Mom stayed home with the five children, taught us right from wrong (deferring to Dad as necessary), took care of us when we were sick, and made a full course sit- down dinner seven days a week.
She cleaned the house (Monday: bathroom and kitchen; Tuesday: dust and vacuum downstairs; Wednesday: dust and vacuum upstairs; Thursday: wash and hang laundry; Friday: iron (no permanent press back then!); Saturday: change beds, go shopping for groceries and make Saturday/Sunday dinners. She was given a meager weekly allowance, which she carefully eked out to cover groceries, dry cleaning, house keeping necessities, and cigarettes. She had to ask for extra money to get her hair cut. Discretionary funds were out of the question. It was her job to care for her sick, incontinent and demented father-in-law who despised her. In fact the huge house she was responsible for was not her house but her in-laws, complete with hideous décor and furnishings, which she abhorred and was powerless to alter in any way. It ws not until she was 45 that she moved into her “dream house”, and even then she had no say in décor or furnishing for another 20 years.
I once came across her old girl scout book (c.1929), an explicit account of how each room in the house should be cleaned, beds made, table set, how to do laundry, how to cook, how to take care of minor injuries, and most importantly, how to catch and keep a husband.
She was miserable.
In 1979 as I was making my own way in the world, I had a compelling revelation: women in my generation face the biggest challenge in coming to terms with the legacy of the submissive role that most women of previous generations in our society have accepted. I understood that we were damned if we did go to work (“What? You aren’t going to stay home and take care of your husband and children?”), and damned if we didn’t (“What? You are going to give up your self for your husband and children?”).
At the same time, I was becoming involved with the Women’s Studies College at a large university. While I was aware that many women are given to subservience as a result of intergenerational role modeling and imprinting, I felt the “inequality” of women to be greatly exaggerated by the women’s libbers that I came into contact with. It seemed to me that their “inferiority” was a result of their own distorted perceptions: these militant women were looking for it where it didn’t necessarily exist.
It was this same year that my mother got out of the house and into the workforce. The transformation in her sense of self was astounding to behold. I knew then that should I have children, I would go back to work rather than lead the life of drudgery that my mother had. No way would I fall into the subservience that had been so obvious in the previous generations of women in my family. I told my husband-to-be that I was definitely not housewife material, I don’t do mending or ironing, and I have much better things to do than to keep a clean house. When we married, I kept my maiden name in order to maintain my own identity. After several years of having to further identify myself as Tony Witte’s wife or Henry Witte’s mother, upon the birth of my second son, I changed my name.
Given that we are on this earth to learn certain lessons, I am blessed with four sons, clearly making one of my lessons learning to reconcile my role as a woman in today’s world, and teaching my sons to fit into a role more in line with what I hope is to become the norm. (I am inspired by Mahatma Gandhi, who said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”) It has been challenging in that I have no role model for stepping into the role I desire for myself, nor for showing my boys this less traveled path.
As it turned out, I did stay home with them. Lucky for me I like snakes and frogs and spiders. I was not able deter their interest in weapons or to squelch the tendency to employ any thing in hand (sticks, rocks, legos, blocks) as a gun, learned to accept the broken glass and furniture and holes in the wall created by four very robust males who insist upon wrestling and tumbling about, even to this day. Wishing not to transfer my fears to them, I was able to learn to squelch my terror as they jumped off 40-foot cliffs into the river, climbed 60-foot trees, created dangerous contraptions and explosions and all of the other fool hardy things that boys do. I am still repulsed by the rude and disgusting habits that seem inborn: hawking in the sink, belching, flatulence, whizzing all over the bathroom and leaving the seat up…
In an effort to discourage the idea that women are here to serve them, I have insisted upon their self-sufficiency, taught them how to prepare their own lunch, do dishes, dust and vacuum, set the table, do laundry, be responsible for their own room, all perhaps to the point of negligence. Once when the boys were young and had gotten a rare refusal from their father who has given himself over completely to his sons (I could not have picked a better father for my children), when asked why, Tony replied, “Because I’m the Captain” “No you’re not, Mom is.” It seemed like a victory of sorts -at the time.
Through the years I have STRUGGLED with my place in this family. Dinner table conversations revolve around topics that are generally of much greater interest to the men in my family than me, and I so often feel left out as they discuss their “manly” movie interests (I gave up chick flicks years ago), and mathematical, scientific and computer interests. For years I felt rather stupid in light of these discussions, but have since realized my own brilliance in other matters. And trying to get them involved in heart to heart conversation involving what goes on in their inner lives is a supreme challenge. So I spend much of my time with them listening to them talk about things that I have little knowledge or interest in, and cringing at the things they think are hilarious. I rather envy the relationship they have with their father. Yet I so enjoy the camaraderie of my boys, who have become best friends as adults.
Today as my four sons prepare to go out into the world, I find myself obsessing over the woulda, coulda, shouldas.. Should I have made more of an effort to develop the interests that they have so as not to feel such the outsider in this family? I could have made more of an attempt to develop my interests in matters of physical science, science fiction, music and film and computer interests more in line with their experience. I could have done this and that. I chose not to do these things in my struggle to develop my own identity. I am so fortunate to have as a life mate a man who is kind and sensitive and supportive of my personal growth. The two of us have tried to show the boys the path to being aware that each of us has certain gifts. It is our job to go out into the world to make the most of our talents, and at the same time be supportive of friends and loved ones in doing the same. -RDW 6-10-07
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