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A proverbial crapstorm was unleashed in the Afrikaans media this week when author and academic, Sonja Loots, wrote a blisteringly scathing column about housewives and what she perceives as their dubious role in society.
The column, which I am fairly sure was tongue in cheek, ruffled a lot of feathers. Personally, I was left rather nonplussed, and so I began to think about what housewives, and their continued existence, means to me.
I was raised by a housewife. My mom was in the “privileged position” (her words) to stay at home and raise her four children full time. And if I’m perfectly honest, I have to say in all the years that my mom stayed home I think she might have gone to a salon or a lunch with the girls or clothes shopping for herself, maybe five or six times tops.
The rest of the time she was busy with the unending drudgery of running a household.
The feeding of a husband, children and pets, the wiping of surfaces, mouths and noses, the planning of school trips and holidays, the dressing of bodies and wounds, the buying of stationary, clothes and groceries, the driving to ballet and art class and netball and the overall constant cooking and comforting and scolding that forms part of any mother’s life.
I’m not sure if her choice made her privileged or flat-out crazy, but it was her choice and for me, that is what feminism is all about.
Of course, and here is where the privilege my mom was talking about comes in, not many women can choose to stay at home. Simply because they can’t afford to. Most households need a double income just to keep heads above water.
As luck (or a legacy of apartheid, actually) would have it, in South Africa, as in other countries where there is a vast divide between rich and poor, many working women can afford to pay cleaners or nannies or day care or au pairs and still be better off financially with what’s left of their salaries than they would have been if they had stayed at home and done the care themselves.
Not that I’m saying for one moment that working mothers don’t care for their families. In fact, in this year’s Female Nation Survey the results show that over 60% of women who are the main breadwinners are the main caregivers too.
That’s right, the majority of women who bring in the most money are also the primary caregivers. Every working mother knows that when she comes home in the evening she will still face a mountain of work. This ‘invisible work’, has usually been women’s work for centuries and it's only recently that our partners and husbands have joined in.
So what do I think about housewives who choose this unpaid, unpraised and mostly ungrateful work? I salute them.
And the women who'd rather employ someone to do this work while they get on with their respective careers? Well, I salute them too.
And the women who have to do both, who also make up the vast majority, I salute you most of all.
But mostly, I'm just grateful to my mom. Dankie Mamma.
The column, which I am fairly sure was tongue in cheek, ruffled a lot of feathers. Personally, I was left rather nonplussed, and so I began to think about what housewives, and their continued existence, means to me.
I was raised by a housewife. My mom was in the “privileged position” (her words) to stay at home and raise her four children full time. And if I’m perfectly honest, I have to say in all the years that my mom stayed home I think she might have gone to a salon or a lunch with the girls or clothes shopping for herself, maybe five or six times tops.
The rest of the time she was busy with the unending drudgery of running a household.
The feeding of a husband, children and pets, the wiping of surfaces, mouths and noses, the planning of school trips and holidays, the dressing of bodies and wounds, the buying of stationary, clothes and groceries, the driving to ballet and art class and netball and the overall constant cooking and comforting and scolding that forms part of any mother’s life.
I’m not sure if her choice made her privileged or flat-out crazy, but it was her choice and for me, that is what feminism is all about.
Of course, and here is where the privilege my mom was talking about comes in, not many women can choose to stay at home. Simply because they can’t afford to. Most households need a double income just to keep heads above water.
As luck (or a legacy of apartheid, actually) would have it, in South Africa, as in other countries where there is a vast divide between rich and poor, many working women can afford to pay cleaners or nannies or day care or au pairs and still be better off financially with what’s left of their salaries than they would have been if they had stayed at home and done the care themselves.
Not that I’m saying for one moment that working mothers don’t care for their families. In fact, in this year’s Female Nation Survey the results show that over 60% of women who are the main breadwinners are the main caregivers too.
That’s right, the majority of women who bring in the most money are also the primary caregivers. Every working mother knows that when she comes home in the evening she will still face a mountain of work. This ‘invisible work’, has usually been women’s work for centuries and it's only recently that our partners and husbands have joined in.
So what do I think about housewives who choose this unpaid, unpraised and mostly ungrateful work? I salute them.
And the women who'd rather employ someone to do this work while they get on with their respective careers? Well, I salute them too.
And the women who have to do both, who also make up the vast majority, I salute you most of all.
But mostly, I'm just grateful to my mom. Dankie Mamma.
