I was going to call this post "104 Purses." 104 is the approximate number of women whose housing is provided by my local YWCA.
Today I was granted a tour of this facility and I was both delighted and saddened by what I saw. I was delighted because inside and out, the YWCA was incredibly well-maintained, clean and nicely painted and decorated. There were sunny play spaces with plenty of toys for children, a computer lab and lounges and common areas for all to use. Even more delightful were the staff members who gave me the tour and spoke with passion as advocates for the women (some of them mothers) who live there.
I was saddened however, to think about what it takes for someone to end up there. Nowhere else to turn, no family to count on and no other support. No resources. Women often arrive with nothing but the clothes on their backs and their children in tow.
The rooms they will live in are so small that a twin bed and a pull-out trundle are literally all that fit inside. I'm sure this is by design, so as to fit as many rooms as possible into the building. The women and children will rely on donated items from toiletries to towels and bed linens. As I peered into one of these rooms, I tried to imagine life with Sophie in that little room. It was safe, clean and adequate, but without any privacy between mother and child. It would be tough.
My reason for visiting the YWCA was to talk to the staff about what kinds of needs the residents have, and what my organization, Mothers & More (www.mothersandmore.org) can do to fill some of those needs as we gear up for a Mother's Day community outreach campaign. I was given "the list" -- things that residents need every day like food, toiletries and linens. Go through your typical day, and if you use it, they probably need it.
I asked my guide though, somewhat sheepishly, if the women might like... new purses? I almost dismissed the thought as I said it, but her face just lit up, immediately understanding the significance of a good purse to a woman. For the men reading this, just so you can understand, a purse becomes symbolic of your life. It's what keeps you together and what you can't live without. It is one of the few things a woman uses every day.
A purse can also symbolize power; the power that having enough money can bring. Little girls who get their first real purse suddenly feel grown up and independent. It's not any different for women. Purses, and the money in them, still make us feel like like we can exercise some control in our lives.
So I left today, having made a promise that my group would find a new, quality purse for every woman, all 104 of them. As I drove away, I thought about all the generous people I know, and how many people they know, and how a good idea can spread like wildfire. I'll bet we can do even more. So I e-mailed some of my friends at Mothers & More and pitched the idea... nationally, we are about 125 chapters, so at 80 purses a chapter, it is well within our reach to give 10,000 purses to sheltered women across the country... a significant number, enough to spark a movement that will bring attention to a number of "pocketbook issues" that women, particularly mothers face.
So if you happen to know Kate Spade or Liz Claiborne or Ms. Coach, please send them my way. We will need all the help we can get.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
The Invisible Mom: Hero or Hoax?
A friend sent me a story that has been circulating online for a while now called, "The Invisible Mom," a saccharine story of a mother's coming to terms with the invisibility she feels in caring for her children. I did a little digging and found that it's a excerpt from a book called, "The Invisible Woman: When only God sees" by Nicole Johnson.
(note: you can read the full excerpt at http://www.freshbrewedlife.com/cd_69.aspx)
This widely shared story (just google "invisible mom" and see how many hits you get) is of a mother telling her readers a deep secret, that she feels like no one can see her. "Can't you see I'm on the phone," she asks her kids rhetorically... "Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner... Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more... Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being." [emphasis mine]
Whoa. Some people might suggest therapy and a strong anti-depressant for that kind of talk.
But before you feel too sorry for Nicole (or Charlotte, as she has named this "character"), she pulls her readers back from the ledge, telling us that just when she is feeling really low, her jet-setting friend, Janice gives her a book about cathedrals with an inscription that reads, "To Charlotte, with admiration for what you are building when no one sees." Charlotte devours the book, closing it with the revelation that she does not need other people to "see" her. God sees her and the work she is doing. Her children are like the great cathedrals who will stand as evidence she was really here, long after she is gone. Charlotte is deeply satisfied, and in my mind, after wrapping up her little story, finishes cutting the crusts off of peanut butter sandwiches for her kids, who will only think to ask why she bought the creamy peanut butter instead of crunchy.
We're meant to wipe a tear from our eye and forward this to all our fabulous invisi-mom friends. Charlotte is a hero; she is someone who is willing to do everything without expecting anything... anything in return. And she's happy about it. The blogging community unanimously calls this story "inspiring" and "uplifting," but frankly, it leaves me feeling puzzled and concerned for the state of motherhood.
For those who extract religious significance from this story, a little disclaimer. I am not saying that the caregiving a mother does must be compensated quid pro quo. (There isn't enough money in the world anyway to pay us for getting thrown up on, or for worrying about a barely grown son or daughter halfway around the world serving in Iraq.) In fact, I completely get that motherhood is about selflessly providing for your children. But that any mother should ever feel like she is "not a human being" in the process, I will get fired up and defend that mother's right to her full human beingness any day of the week.
Consider for a moment that the very, very first commandment that God gave humanity was, "I am the Lord your God, and you shall have no other gods before me." God obviously felt that being a mostly invisible diety, establishing and asserting His presence was something that was very important. I am not a Torah or bible scholar, but I'm pretty sure He spent the next 3,000 years or so smiting any little cretons who acted like He wasn't there at all. He also didn't wait too long in rattling off that list of commandments, to remind us to "Honor thy mother and father," which can be loosely interpreted to mean, "Hey kid, your mom is on the phone. Wait two minutes and then she'll drive you to the mall."
A very serious danger of holding mothers' invisibility up as a virtue, without further examination is that mothers are already at greater social and economic risk than non-mothers. Mothers are the ones who more often change or interrupt their work patterns to accomodate their children's need for constant care. Elizabeth Warren, a Harvard professor, bankruptcy expert and author of "The Two-Income Trap" has said that "having a child is the single best predictor that a person will go bankrupt. " Mothers are collectively losing out on good pay, adequate social security benefits, pensions and even healthcare. Working mothers often have three jobs; their paid jobs, their family caregiving jobs and making the family caregiving job look like it is not there at all.
Another 5.6 million stay-at-home American mothers* are relying on the sufficiency of their husbands' incomes to provide everything for their children and themselves. Others are out in the paid work force, but are doing the same jobs for less pay because as a society, we've decided that womens' experience, particularly a mother's experience is less valuable than someone else's. So when husbands lose their jobs, become disabled or die... or when couples divorce, mothers and their children are at risk because of her invisibility in the world. Unfortunately, if invisi-mom needs to be the one to secure her family's material needs, her family caregiving experience is as if she had done nothing at all. Few hiring managers consider caregiving work as real work. Society's message to mothers is, "You are invisible because your work is too important to properly acknowledge. We hope you made good choices so that you'll never need that good-paying job with benefits."
I call "bullshit."
Caregiving is real, incredibly high-stakes, important work, and it ought not be invisible in the first place.
Author's note: For great information on mother's social issues, check out "The Price of Motherhood" by Ann Crittenden.
*Source: U.S. Census Bureau, "Facts for Figures: Women's History Month March 2009"
(note: you can read the full excerpt at http://www.freshbrewedlife.com/cd_69.aspx)
This widely shared story (just google "invisible mom" and see how many hits you get) is of a mother telling her readers a deep secret, that she feels like no one can see her. "Can't you see I'm on the phone," she asks her kids rhetorically... "Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner... Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more... Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being." [emphasis mine]
Whoa. Some people might suggest therapy and a strong anti-depressant for that kind of talk.
But before you feel too sorry for Nicole (or Charlotte, as she has named this "character"), she pulls her readers back from the ledge, telling us that just when she is feeling really low, her jet-setting friend, Janice gives her a book about cathedrals with an inscription that reads, "To Charlotte, with admiration for what you are building when no one sees." Charlotte devours the book, closing it with the revelation that she does not need other people to "see" her. God sees her and the work she is doing. Her children are like the great cathedrals who will stand as evidence she was really here, long after she is gone. Charlotte is deeply satisfied, and in my mind, after wrapping up her little story, finishes cutting the crusts off of peanut butter sandwiches for her kids, who will only think to ask why she bought the creamy peanut butter instead of crunchy.
We're meant to wipe a tear from our eye and forward this to all our fabulous invisi-mom friends. Charlotte is a hero; she is someone who is willing to do everything without expecting anything... anything in return. And she's happy about it. The blogging community unanimously calls this story "inspiring" and "uplifting," but frankly, it leaves me feeling puzzled and concerned for the state of motherhood.
For those who extract religious significance from this story, a little disclaimer. I am not saying that the caregiving a mother does must be compensated quid pro quo. (There isn't enough money in the world anyway to pay us for getting thrown up on, or for worrying about a barely grown son or daughter halfway around the world serving in Iraq.) In fact, I completely get that motherhood is about selflessly providing for your children. But that any mother should ever feel like she is "not a human being" in the process, I will get fired up and defend that mother's right to her full human beingness any day of the week.
Consider for a moment that the very, very first commandment that God gave humanity was, "I am the Lord your God, and you shall have no other gods before me." God obviously felt that being a mostly invisible diety, establishing and asserting His presence was something that was very important. I am not a Torah or bible scholar, but I'm pretty sure He spent the next 3,000 years or so smiting any little cretons who acted like He wasn't there at all. He also didn't wait too long in rattling off that list of commandments, to remind us to "Honor thy mother and father," which can be loosely interpreted to mean, "Hey kid, your mom is on the phone. Wait two minutes and then she'll drive you to the mall."
A very serious danger of holding mothers' invisibility up as a virtue, without further examination is that mothers are already at greater social and economic risk than non-mothers. Mothers are the ones who more often change or interrupt their work patterns to accomodate their children's need for constant care. Elizabeth Warren, a Harvard professor, bankruptcy expert and author of "The Two-Income Trap" has said that "having a child is the single best predictor that a person will go bankrupt. " Mothers are collectively losing out on good pay, adequate social security benefits, pensions and even healthcare. Working mothers often have three jobs; their paid jobs, their family caregiving jobs and making the family caregiving job look like it is not there at all.
Another 5.6 million stay-at-home American mothers* are relying on the sufficiency of their husbands' incomes to provide everything for their children and themselves. Others are out in the paid work force, but are doing the same jobs for less pay because as a society, we've decided that womens' experience, particularly a mother's experience is less valuable than someone else's. So when husbands lose their jobs, become disabled or die... or when couples divorce, mothers and their children are at risk because of her invisibility in the world. Unfortunately, if invisi-mom needs to be the one to secure her family's material needs, her family caregiving experience is as if she had done nothing at all. Few hiring managers consider caregiving work as real work. Society's message to mothers is, "You are invisible because your work is too important to properly acknowledge. We hope you made good choices so that you'll never need that good-paying job with benefits."
I call "bullshit."
Caregiving is real, incredibly high-stakes, important work, and it ought not be invisible in the first place.
Author's note: For great information on mother's social issues, check out "The Price of Motherhood" by Ann Crittenden.
*Source: U.S. Census Bureau, "Facts for Figures: Women's History Month March 2009"
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