For hire: Me

There are often times when a little synchronicity in the Universe means that an issue that is preoccupying me personally is also keeping politicians and journalists busy too.

As a 40-something woman living in the developed world in the 21st century, I am many things, but above nearly all else, I am a unit of economic production. Now, please understand that I don’t measure myself in this way. The things I am most proud of – being a wife, mother, friend, volunteer, engaged member of the human race – do not earn me money. But the world, it seems, measures me thus.

Had my adult life begun in 1760, 1890, or even 1960, rather than in 1990, a working class girl such as I would not have accessed the educational or professional choices that have been relatively easy for me to aspire to. Elizabeth Bennet, or Marianne Dashwood, and no doubt their author Jane Austen, would have loved the opportunities that have become a norm to young women now. Just two generations ago, my grandfather was reluctant to pay comptometer college fees for his daughter because, by his reckoning, she’d be pregnant within a couple of years and it would be a waste of money. Luckily for her, her grandparents paid those fees instead, and my mother came to embody the triumph of determination over a very tough start in life (and a socio-political movement that had plenty of momentum). Thankfully, British society doesn’t tend to make room for such archaic views anymore. But – and without sounding depressingly anti-feminist about it – there are a just a few of commonly held views from back then that I find myself wishing we had hung on to. Top of the list? That the status of women as wives (partners) and mothers was respected. Everyone knew that these were tough jobs, and while the resistance to women doing anything else other than run a home and raise children was undeniably oppressive, no-one doubted that fulfilling these roles wasn’t the Hard Work we all know it to be.

To SAHM or not to SAHM

So, once upon a time, all we women had the option to be was a SAHM; these days, Staying At Home is a luxury many of us cannot afford. Back then, while the doors of industry and academia were closed to us, our contribution to society was nonetheless recognised and valued. Now, we get through many more doors than previously (though that heavy, leather-clad one that leads to the boardroom still seems a bit too stiff to push). But if we choose to stay behind our own front door, we no longer occupy a place in the world that attracts much appreciation. The Mother’s Day card says ‘Thank You’, but pretty much no-one else does.

The women who worked the land or pieced together munitions during the wars, or the ones who marched throughout the cities of the developed world a generation or so later, did so believing in Progress. But our campaigning grandmothers and mothers did not want our other roles so publicly diminished. Clearly. They were utterly right to fight for their daughter’s freedom to gain an education, to have a career. Of course we are equal to men, and should be treated as such. But, rather as Alice followed her curiosity from oddly-sized room to oddly-sized room, allowing herself to ‘drink this’ and ‘eat me’, there are convoluted, unintended consequences borne out of the feminist movement. And they are shaping my life, every single day. As we slot ourselves into the conventions that have always governed the patriarchy, there are sacrifices to be made. Most notably, that it will be the fiscal contribution I make to society, rather than any other, that determines my worth, while I walk this mortal coil.

Last week Sheryl Sandberg, CEO of Facebook, urged us all to ‘lean in’, to sit at more tables and raise more hands. She argued we are under-reaching, that our academic achievements are not being matched by our professional paths. We should, somehow, be able to do it all. Now, I don’t want to be overly negative about a woman who has obviously worked her socks off, and engaged brain as she did so. But. We don’t all get to do something that ‘flicks our switch’, as she does. She’s also reached a position where the financial recompense for her skillset very nearly tips over into ‘offensive’ to most of us mere average earners. Mortal women are busy working their arses off just to try and cover the food shop and the day nursery fees. Some of us are wondering why we bother.

And, seeing as we’ve digressed, they are ridiculous, those fees. Second most expensive in the world, so the statisticians tell us. All the politicians know this. They are frantically buzzing around Westminster trying to locate the solution, (which rock is it hiding underneath?) because they know that how most of us vote next time will be determined by this single policy decision. And it looks like the Conservative ministers (much to the chagrin of their party’s backbenchers, no doubt) have abandoned their long-held view that women with young children ought to be at home; the financial support they have announced is only available to families where both parents work. The agenda is obvious. For us to get out of the hole we are in, they need every single ‘unit of economic production’ back out there in the market place, peddling for all they are worth. They know they have to make going back to work a more attractive proposition for many women, and a tax break to help pay for the kids to be kept safe while we do, is the carrot they have dangled. The notion that we might actually let parents choose whatever works best for their particular family seems to have been lost, (and Frank Field’s more enlightened views are now, sadly, dead and buried).

Gigantic curveball

So this is what I am now, a ‘unit of economic production’, no more, no less. And last week, someone decided that the product of my labour was no longer required. Gigantic curveball doesn’t really cover it.

Unexpected. Out of the blue. Shocking.

Now I’ll be honest, the field I worked in genuinely engaged me, and I did care, do care, passionately, about what I did. But I often felt the culture, the climate I operated in, was stifling, and necessitated my feeling ethically compromised, from time to time. The lanyard round my neck felt a bit heavy. Mixed up with the feelings of despair at the impact on our family finances, is the sense of relief that comes with not having to be something I’m really not, anymore. It’s true that I had hoped to change direction – regular readers will know my blog is a facet of this – in the next couple of years. But the loss of status that has accompanied this event has caught me off guard, and is really the inspiration for this post.

You see, I’d gotten comfortable with wearing a badge that society doffed a cap to. My ego and I can at least admit that. Now it’s gone, I see how much it made me feel legitimate – a ‘proper little contributor’, don’t you know. More than anything this event is a loud warning claxon to my future working self. I’ve got 25, maybe 30 years left in the workplace, and I need to make them count. If I have no choice other than to be an economic producer, I need to make sure that I at least feel more aligned with the other parts of me that I, at least, do value; the part that thinks the best of me is demonstrated by my choosing to read one more picture book to my son; or spend an extra ten minutes making real cheese sauce for the tuna pasta bake for the kid’s tea; or freely giving an evening over to a committee meeting for my daughter’s pre-school.

I’m banking on Gaby Hinsliff’s prediction that ‘wifi is more liberating than the pill’. I’m staying positive, believing that I have skills and talents that are of use out there in the global marketplace. Besides, I want my children – one girl, one boy – to grow up knowing that their mother is not afraid to work hard on their behalf. I’m just hoping that society’s definition of work has a little more breadth and depth by the time it is their turn to join the ranks.

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

15 thoughts on “For hire: Me

  1. It is amazing how having our job removed from us can affect us, far more than just the loss of income. It is status, identity, self worth. And yet surely we are worth just because we are?

    This is a door opening for you, and I am sure your writing will take you places you’ve yet to dream of. Looking forward to accompanying you on the journey.

  2. It took me a long time to make the decision to go for what I have always wanted for myself and it was easy in the end because of circumstances leading up to it (which were not in the least easy!) I really hope you turn this into a positive-I feel better than I’ve ever done about myself since committing to writing. It’s a fantastic feeling, if unpredictable and scary at times. There are mornings when I wake in a cold sweat, but I want to show my children that you really can be whoever you want as long as you have faith in yourself.
    I absolutely agree with your comments and am incredibly frustrated by the current perception that bring a SAHM is somehow not economically valid. We work really hard to raise the next generation-what’s not valid about that?
    Anyway, juggling a freelance career and being a good mum is hard but very possible. Best of luck and stay in touch-there’s always more power and influence in numbers.

  3. As always, I have loved your thought provoking post. If you ever feel disheartened with writing – think of people like me who get all excited and rush for a cuppa when they see you have posted!

    I completely agree about the devaluing of stay at home mums.

    What made this hit home for me, was when I heard a family member (with quite a high flying job) explaining to one of her work friends that I am a stay at home mum – but that I do work from home so have my business too. She said it as though she was justifying why I hadn’t gone back to work ‘properly’. Like it was OK that I stayed at home with my kids, because I work from home too.

    Really got me thinking why this was the case, as if I didn’t happen to earn a bit of a side income working from home I shouldn’t be devalued for choosing to stay at home with my children.

    Yes I am lucky to have the choice to stay at home, but we budget hard and have done for years and made / make sacrifices so I can do this because it is important to us as parents and is the decision we have made.

    I completely support mums who choose or have to go back to work full or part time as well.

    I too don’t think though that it should be assumed that every family needs to be one where both parents work long hours / and I think you sum up the view of the government perfectly, “for us to get out of the hole we are in, they need every single ‘unit of economic production’ back out there in the market place, peddling for all they are worth. ”

    As you say, all circumstances are different and whilst I am proud of the equal opportunities women have now, I agree that fiscal contribution should not be the highest measurement of their worth.

    It is drummed into us though, and I completely understand why you would feel stripped of being a ‘proper little contributor’ – even though you really shouldn’t!

    In my current position as someone who wears both hats… I find myself offended when people insinuate I don’t do anything productive at home all day as a stay at home mum. I also find myself offended when people hint that my kids can’t get enough attention when I have to work too. So you can’t really win can you!

    I read a post the other day and this bit really stuck with me “Just because society is made up of the majority, what the majority says isn’t necessarily right for you. Sometimes it takes strength to break away from what is expected of you… …But at least we can look back on our lives and say that we lived for us and nobody else.” http://www.largerfamilylife.com/2013/03/18/a-different-drum/ if you want a read.

    Really sorry that reply is so long – feel free to remove if it clogs up your page!

    L x

    • Wouldn’t dream of it – I aspire to have my blog getting folk thinking and discussing – a marvellous reply. Thank You!!! Took nerve to write, but already glad I did… x

  4. Sorry to hear about your job – but admire your ability to treat it as a chance to do something new! All I can say is I’ve rarely met a freelance who regretted it: most end up wondering why they didn’t do it years ago (and still believe the bit about wifi being more liberating than the Pill – says she, waiting to watch the Budget livestreamed on a laptop…) Best of luck with your new departure x G

    • Without anyway blowing smoke up your proverbial, you have just made my day. I read your column the day you left, have followed your blog, and your book sits by my bed. Thanks for the inspiration, and for taking the time to pop over to me…. L x

  5. I am sorry that you have been thrown a curveball but am certain that with your eloquent writing, there will be many doors opening to you.
    As a stay at home mum by choice, I find myself constantly defending this decision. I chose to have children, and thus I choose to bring them up.
    My sister’s words will stay with me for a long time: “Don’t you think Bunny would like to see her mum at work?”
    Bunny is just four. I worked a long way from home for 18 months of her life. Does any sane adult really believe a child would rather I was at work than at home playing with her?! It was the reassurance I needed to know I had made the right decision for us now, despite the stigma attached to it.
    Good luck with your journey. I hope it is full of the promise it suggests.

  6. Thanks for the eloquence and kindness of your words. The feedback to this post has been all the silver lining a woman needs in response to this event! And I’m sure Bunny appreciates your being there… x

  7. Pingback: A gem of a Tiddler… | Not Different But Interesting

  8. Pingback: A quote on a fridge door, two cats, and one old penny | Not Different But Interesting

  9. Pingback: A quote on a fridge door, two cats, and one old penny

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s