Pro Choice
I’ve held many positions in my life. Some by chance, some by choice, and some by necessity. I’ve gone from stay-at-home mom to working professional and back again. I’ve been a college student, twice, once at a time when an education took a back seat to social engagements, and again when I was old enough to appreciate it.
At the age of twenty, I felt like if I never folded another crib sheet or ate another bowl of cold Spaghetti O’s while watching Sesame Street it would be too soon. I dreamed of getting a job; of having “just a salad” for lunch in the company of witty and intelligent women; of dressing smartly in a tailor-made pantsuit over a silk camisole.
In my thirties I began noticing that my suits were getting a little tight around the waistband and my pantyhose always seemed to bag in the crotch. The women I ate lunch with, when lunch consisted of more than a Danish wolfed down in the break room, prattled endlessly over only such politics as were office related. I was tired of missing parent-teacher conferences, and sick of spending five hours on a Saturday at the pediatrician’s office. I had abandoned my dream of being promoted to the Director of Marketing in favor of one in which I routinely prepared a family dinner that did not originate from a box.
Shortly after my fortieth birthday fate brought another change. Family circumstances dictated that I quit my job. I must admit, I didn’t feel even the tiniest pang of remorse upon leaving my colleagues at the end of my going away party with nothing more to show for my years of service than a few impractical parting gifts. I realized that after my family was settled (we were moving south due to a change in my husband’s career) I would eventually have to find another job, but in the interim I felt reborn and free.
It was liberating not having to put on makeup and do my hair every day. I discovered the joy of preparing meals that consisted of more than three ingredients. I learned the physics of linoleum; specifically that by applying a damp sponge I could prevent it from becoming adhesive on the surface. My husband enjoyed sleeping in longer, since he no longer had to devote 30 minutes to finding a matching pair of socks in the morning. I was able to determine which grades my teenagers were in and even became a member of an interesting group called the PTA.
Life was perfect, or at least would have been if I could have gotten past the problem of self-validation. Without the evidence of a paycheck, what proof did I have that the tasks I accomplished every week had value? True, there is worth in being able to produce spotless glasses right from the cupboard, but how does that compare to cold hard cash?
I began to search the want ads, although my efforts were half-hearted to say the least. I’d eliminate employment possibilities on the basis that they were too far away, didn’t pay enough, were too demanding, not challenging enough, or didn’t offer a preferred health insurance plan.
“So what’s wrong with just being a housewife?” my husband asked one night as I was perusing the classified section.
“I can think of a few things,” I quipped. “No respect, no appreciation, and especially no compensation.”
“I respect you. The kids appreciate you being around for them, and not all compensation comes in the form of a salary.”
He was right. Even in the business world payment for services wasn’t always on a cash basis, there were fringe benefits to consider in every career decision.
When was it exactly that “housewife” dropped off the list of career choices, becoming only something a woman did because she lacked options or opportunities? Women should have the right to choose whatever they wish to be in life, without shame, regret, or the fear of humiliating and alienating other members of their sex.
I now have a new crusade; to stamp out the stigma associated with domesticity. I am not going to allow the word “just” to infiltrate a sentence containing “a housewife.” I refuse to avert my eyes when answering the question: “What do you do for a living,” and I will inform the world that I am pro-choice; that a woman’s career is her own to do whatever she wishes with it.