mothers under the microscope: to work, or not to work
Mothers: whether we like it or not, the majority of us have lived in them, lived with them and learnt from them. But one thing we daughters may be learning all too readily from mum is a sense of guilt as she makes her choice to be a working mother, or not to be. You’d think with increasing discourse on women’s agency in family life, the stigma surrounding the choice to make babies and drop them off at day care would be gone. Yet here we are, with a number of working mums reportedly still feeling chastised by the ones who drop everything to make babies.
One recent critic is Isabella Dutton, a British woman who spent her days dedicated to her children’s every whim and regrets having them to the point of calling them ‘parasites’. Undoubtedly, she has every right to express her disgust for motherhood, and her regret over giving in to her husband’s demands for children. Yet it begs the question, why is she so condescending of working mothers?
‘Why have them at all if you don’t want to bring them up, or can’t afford to?
‘And why pretend you wanted them if you have no intention of raising them?’ she argues.
It seems deep rooted in the working mother’s conscience to worry over the wellbeing of the child and others’ perceptions of said wellbeing whilst she commits to something other than changing nappies. Growing up with a working, single mother (and I know I’m not alone, so please do call off the pity party), I can see why some mums might be fearful of what others might think. On occasion, I take up my selfish criticisms about the responsibilities my mother held in her job and that she still holds, with her. With no brothers or sisters, and cousins not yet born, television was my babysitter each afternoon at our family business. When my grandfather died, the workload increased and the stresses came home, meaning less time with mum. My main complaints when I reprimand her are for her absences from school presentations or a lack of family outings like the happy, white-toothed, Aryan nuclear families I saw on the idiot box.
But then I remember that there’s a multitude of non-traditional femininities my mother performs that make me proud. To this day her workload comes home and she is always on the phone, but I have a new appreciation for her. My mother isn’t just supporting me in her decision to work, but our whole family. Taking over a business with all male employees, gaining their respect and that of – again, mainly male – industry contacts isn’t as easy as one would like especially given its masculine workplace culture. She has kept the thing running her way for twelve years. But regardless of what she faces in her career my mother makes the most of the time she has for me; she proofreads my university assignments and drops just enough of what she’s juggling to help me in a crisis.
Perhaps the ‘guilt’ working mothers feel would be alleviated if a less judgemental approach was taken on the whole parenting thing in general. Motherhood is a double-edged sword, with women who choose to stay at home also feeling cut up by their working counterparts for performing a traditional femininity. The gendered division of labour in domestic duties is grossly underappreciated by society. The cash value of childrearing, cooking, cleaning and so-called ‘women’s work’ about the house could potentially be conceptualised as more than the breadwinner’s income, yet still holds a negative status.
What we face in our family life certainly shapes us, whether that is through mum, dad, dad’s boyfriend, grandma or the TV. With the very context of the family transformed from a nuclear structure into a variety of new arrangements, it is troubling that women are still feeling as though they are under the microscope for their legitimate choices in their family life.
