I am not what you expect from a feminist writer. For the past eight years, I have devoted most of my time to mothering rather than the working and writing life I built as a single person. I do teach Women’s Studies, but part-time. I have spent very little time writing, even though writing is one of the most fulfilling ways to spend my personal time. While my husband supports my achievements as a poet, he often suggests that I should prioritize paid work and family needs over my writing projects. He would never ask me to stop writing, but he does not fully understand my dedication to an activity that does not provide a paycheck, given our budget conscious lifestyle. Like many women, my obligations as a wife, mother, professor, daughter, friend, sister, etc. leave me very little solitary time, which brings me to my main topic: freedom.
For women, freedom to direct our lives into artistic pursuits is not a given. Despite the enormous changes that women and men have experienced while more and more women combined working with family life, such changes do not include allowing space for women to pursue the artistic professions. Women artists and writers who are also mothers often find the demands on their time leave little space for artistic creation. This can be true even for women like me who understand how gender dynamics encourage women to give to others instead of themselves. I must admit that I have not succeeded in allotting myself the writing time feminism suggests I should, nor that I hope to have. The little time I do have is available mainly because I currently work part-time. Unfortunately, the economic climate deems that I now need to secure full time employment, and I fear my writing time will disappear.
I am not complaining: motherhood is the most important and fulfilling work I will ever do. I have previously written about my choice to prioritize mothering from a feminist perspective. What I wish to discuss here is that even though I focus my time around mothering, I still attempt to carve out writing time. And, despite my feminist understanding of the world and our society, the time I seek is constantly under negotiation. I know I am not alone in this dilemma. Our society has not yet changed enough to give women the leeway from gender roles that would enable them to write. The situation is different for men, who always have leisure and solitude available to them. In a world where women are allowed little solitary time, writing and artistic creation are still the domain of men.
While I do manage to write, I must steal that time away from the other areas of my life: my children, my household duties, my husband, my family. As a young writer, before I started my own family, I jealously guarded time to write, spending hours and days in solitude. Now, I multitask by planning and thinking about my writing while doing household chores or driving my children to dance class. I must decide which writing project deserves attention because I cannot write regularly. When my children are busy, I sneak a few minutes to write here and there. I revise the most urgent project at the library while my children participate in a learning program with visiting owls. I must sometimes shelve writing to give my children, my spouse, my house, and my students the attention they need. While many writers, including men, share this dilemma, men are not tasked as primary caregivers or housekeepers the way women are; men do not feel the scorn of society, spouses, children, or other men the way women do when they do not fulfill their “proper” role. Men are freer than women to meet their expected role, as breadwinner, or not, to be a good father, or not, to keep their yard neatly trimmed, or not, to write, or not. Women are given “freedom”, i.e. “permission” to write, as long as their houses are well kept, their children are well cared for, and their spouses are given attention. The freedom of women is conditional: “of course, you can choose any profession you like, but don’t neglect your responsibilities.”
In a world where many women pay others to provide care and clean house, freedom to write can be bought, if you can afford to delegate your gender responsibilities. Some women would not choose this option; others cannot pay for quality care. In addition, the creative mind can be stunted, worn out, and used up by full time paid work. Many writers I know teach; it is flexible, it is rewarding, and it pays forward the education others gave to us. However, the pay is dismal, the hours are long, and the stress of encouraging your students to learn can affect your emotional readiness to create. As an adjunct college instructor, I cannot afford to pay a caregiver to watch my pre-school child while I teach. My mother-in-law does this for me, in exchange for translation services, help with computer usage, and advice about interacting with medical professionals. We have negotiated this informal exchange over time, but it is sometimes tenuous. Last year, I left my daughter with her an additional day per week so I could revise my chapbook manuscript. This year, that extra day of care has not been available very often. Because I understand the many demands on her time, I seek to avoid taking my mother-in-law’s availability for granted. My writing projects will wait until my caregiver is again available.
The idea that women have other things to do instead of writing is infused in our understanding of gender. Indeed, when women with small children do manage to write amidst mothering and paid work, people will tell us, “I’m surprised you are able to write at all.” The frequency that I hear this comment reiterates that men are considered the cultural producers in our society. Removing this mindset is necessary if we wish to encourage a flurry of writing activity in the next generation of women.
Dear Eliza,
I so relate to this piece, but as a working mother who pays for child care and for housecleaning. In fact, I sometimes feel really weird about the fact that the women who are caring for my child are paid so much less than I am. I am even more weirded out by paying for my cleaning lady, an elderly Polish woman who refused to let me carry anything when I was pregnant. She helped me through my pregnancy more than anyone else in my life at the time because I was (and am) a single woman. She makes next to nothing, and what she makes she sends back her family in Poland. (And what is really funny– by which I mean awful– is that she only comes to my house for an afternoon every few weeks. The rest of the time, I keep my own house. That said, my lawn is not neat. It is overgrown.) Fortunately, I live in a “transitional” neighbor (that will likely never actually transition) so the fact I mow my lawn at all protects me from the distain of my neighbors. What I’m now struck by, as I write this, is how much all of the woman who provide caregiving in my life (Ana, my cleaning lady, supplies this for me: she singlehandedly set up my nursery despite my insistence she not enter the room; and the woman at my daughter’s daycare, who make my daughter very happy) are ALL poorly paid. I have an easier time of it because of their services (and daycare does not come cheap– but, as Susan, one of the daycare workers told me the other day, “I’m not seeing any of that money!”), but I still struggle to keep it all together. Basically, I lose out on sleep. I teach several classes a semester, and I don’t have “writing time” like I used to– oh, no! My daughter is in daycare three days a week, the other four I hang out with her (which I very much enjoy). Another *weird* thing: I think not having a partner actually helps me balance it all. I don’t have to negotiate my child’s care with anyone. There’s no one else around to weigh in with criticisms as to what I’m packing for her lunch, or how well I’m teaching her manners (and to use the potty). In other words, my job as mother is evaluated by no one but my daughter, who is vocal when she disagrees with my approach, or if I’ve served her a meal she thinks is “icky.”
I am now realizing that this is a response that has yet to shaped into any sort of argument. I want to thank you for this piece, as it certainly got me thinking!
Thanks for giving the gift of your time and words to HER KIND.
Best, Cate
Cate:
Thank you for sharing your ideas; you have given me much to think about as well. I’m pondering all the free labor so many women have given so that I could be a published writer: my mother-in-law’s free child care, my chapbook publishers who read, edited, designed, etc. my books, the friends who read and encouraged me to submit the manuscript. And, really none of us gets an easier time because there is always more to do than hours in the day. We are all losing sleep so we can care for children, work, write, maintain our relationships. So much to think about…
I saw your presentation at AWP on “Troubling the Label”, but did not get to chat with you there, so I’m glad to connect with you here. I do hope you get some writing time as your daughter gets older; I have more now than I used to. I too, very much enjoy the time I spend with my children, and one day they will not wish to spend so much time with me, so I will have more writing time then.
Elisa
Elisa,
Thanks for writing about this.
Negotiating the balance between nurturing my writing and being a single mother of two young children has made me aware of the difficulties of being a writer and a mother at the same time. Yet, I still want to write. Yet, I adore my children. The last line in your post is nearly verbatim what I said to a friend on the phone yesterday. One day, the house is going to be much quieter, with less bodies crashing through the rooms, and I can’t help but think that I’m going to miss it. I told my friend, “Hey, at least I’ll have more time to write.” I love being with my kids, but I do wish sometimes, that our culture allowed moms to be moms – at home, working, single, married, whatever – and found ways to encourage them to find a way to pursue things like writing. The only way to do this is through a greater sense of community, I think. Community is hard to find. Families do not always live in the same state, let alone the same neighborhood. So, how do we create a supportive community? I think writing mothers have to figure that out, which isn’t easy since what little free time we have, we spend at our laptops or with notepads in hand trying to squeeze in a few minutes of writing.
I agree, Lisa. We need a community that is supportive, helpful, and understanding. Family might not be the answer; even extended family members place expectations on women regarding their involvement in family matters, attendance at events, etc. which although enjoyable and important, can eat up time. I’m not sure where the elusive community is, but I will keep looking. Let me know if you find it.
Thanks for this! (Though it is focused more on literary writer/mothers rather than academic/mothers, the McGill-Queen’s University Press anthology Double Lives: Writing and Motherhood is a book you might find useful…)
Thank you, Ariel. I will look it up.
I don’t have children but I relate to this dilemma as well… Prioritising is difficult given the “conditional freedom” you speak of. I am doing my best to dedicate more time to writing this year, but understand something has to give, and I struggle with that!
Lauran, I agree that it is difficult for many women to make writing a priority; often, so many other areas of life need our attention. Usually whatever “gives” demands that attention back after a while, and we are again looking for something else that can wait until after we have done some writing.
Hi Elisa– Excellent piece and as a fellow writer/mother, I appreciate your analysis. It reminds me of the Virginia Woolf essay in which she states that women writers must kill the ‘Angel of the House’ before they can get any work done, the Angel being that side of many women that can’t rest until her home and family are tended to. Thanks for bringing an up to the minute take on this theme. Cheers– Elizabeth