Just a Mother

‘Just a Mother?’
In defence of a little parenting

It is a feature of our society that we define ourselves initially, and perhaps primarily, by what we do. As obsessed as we are by external appearances, the acquirement of numerous and thrilling life experiences, and the fulfilment of our career potential, our ‘doings’ have come to be almost the summation of our personhood, and the less quantifiable development of our personal character has become increasingly irrelevant.
Little surprise, then, that my current occupation as a mother is often subsumed to the realms of ‘just’. Spending one’s main earning potential (i.e. time) attending to the welfare and upbringing of a human being is hardly doing things ‘for me’, contributing to my own acquisition of consumer goods, or, most significantly, it seems, fulfilling my own ‘career’ goals. These are not new observations; the relatively short yet tumultuous history of tensions inherent in such discussion of female priorities has ensured this is well-traversed ground. Yet, as a new-ish parent, I find myself increasingly interested in the pervasiveness of this ‘justing’ of mothers and by the assumptions and contradictions often inherent.
‘Just’ is a small word; it seems so innocuous. We usually use it to soften the blow, to denote insignificance or casualness: ‘I’m just off to the shops’; ‘I just wanted to know; ‘I’m just going to stick this needle in your arm.’ Essentially, it serves to lessen the impact, significance, or surprise of what follows. ‘Don’t worry’, we imply;, ‘this is not worth making a fuss about; this is not really important.’ A sentence filler, usually; perhaps indicative of a quintessential Kiwi reticence and tendency to downplay? Yet, when used as a prefix to one’s main occupation, the ‘just’ takes on new import. ‘Just a Mum’ becomes a role of quiet insignificance; a situation defined not by any intrinsic merit, but because of what it is lacking. ‘Just that?’ we are asked. ‘Only that?’ Suddenly, there seems a gaping hole where our supplementary, career driven, paid employment should be.
We bring it upon ourselves, often, ‘justing’ our own roles self-deprecatingly, and adding other multi-hyphened explanations, e.g. ‘stay-at-home’ Mum, or, my personal unfavourite, ‘housewife’. Both descriptions give the distinct impression of being permanently indoors, excruciatingly domestic, and altogether rather diminished in scope. We struggle to find terms to describe what we do, because we remain in some respects an anomaly in society; we have a mysterious, somewhat questionable role, in the eyes of those who do not understand what it entails, and therefore a definition of ‘what we do’ is not immediately obvious.
As I have mentioned, all this should not really come as a surprise; the history of the ‘mother-wars’ of the 80s and 90s put paid to any simplistic notions about societal acceptance of women’s freedom to choose. Yet the pervasive undervaluing of parenthood still jars, and in no small measure because it often seems to be singled out amongst other occupations for the privilege of the ‘just’. Even when presented with the most menial of occupations, it is common to respond with respect, and to at least make a minimal effort to politely affirm the job in question, or to look for points of interest. Would you say ‘do you just clean toilets then?’; ‘do you just sweep the streets in one of those trucks’; ‘do you just teach maths?’ Hopefully not; whether through politeness, or an implicit acceptance that the occupation in question is sufficient in itself, I don’t often hear that kind of statement. In an era of supposed ‘tolerance’, where we tend to fall over ourselves to avoid being politically incorrect in all manner of possible scenarios, motherhood is still - subtly, often unconsciously - denigrated simply by the tenacious ‘just’, particularly in less formal, more social settings.
The underlying assumptions that reveal themselves in the ‘just’ tend to be rife with inconsistencies, upon closer inspection. We tend not, for example, to respond in such a way to an early childhood educator who is paid to care for small children. Such educators do tend to be underpaid themselves – evidence of the same general societal casualness towards such education, in practice if not in theory – yet my experience is that there is generally more acceptance and understanding of a worker who is Paid to Go to Work. This is a legitimate occupation – it demands qualifications, all the usual structures and strictures around an employer/employee relationship, and neatly divides home from work. It is a valuable and worthy career. The same tends to be said for a nanny or au pair, who is paid to care for children in their own home. Here, the general understanding is that this is an even more preferable arrangement – children in their own home, with a stable presence. Things get even more interesting where there is a full-time father. Suddenly, he is a hero. ‘What a career sacrifice’ we say, admiringly, as we observe the quality father-child time. ‘But how noble, and how worth it – just a few precious years, and he will never regret it.’
Occasionally, too, I pick up a sense of confusion where a mother has only one child at home. It seems more acceptable when a mother has at least two children – then, it is obvious what she does. But the old ‘what do you do all day’ question seems to loom ever-larger the fewer children that one has. Conversely, however, lowering the carer-child ratios is a constant discussion point with reference to early childhood centres. One carer to three or four children is acceptable; one to two is even better; and imagine if we had a one-on-one quality care situation! To many, this would be unimaginably stimulating and stable for the child in question – more like a nanny scenario – yet, strangely, society often struggles to see the distinct parallel between the paid one-on-one carer and the unpaid mother, in her own home, with her own child.
Further to this, the mother with one child may well have more time than a parent with, say, three or four; yet who is to say that this mother does not spend some of that time visiting and supporting other families, joining various community, education, and volunteer groups, and generally acting as the involved and responsible community member we try and bring up our children to be? More than anything, this seems to speak strongly of society’s bias towards paid employment as being the only legitimate occupation. We pay lip service to volunteer work, and to the many almost invisible people who care substantially for disabled or elderly family and friends. Yet the deep materialistic vein that runs through our society often - subconsciously or otherwise - regards only paid employment as really worthwhile. Perhaps this, in the end, is the insidious strain of thought that contributes most substantially to the undervaluing of motherhood in Western culture (among other negative effects).
There are several points that need to be made, in consideration of the fact that most people who use the ‘just’ are completely unaware of its possible hurtful effects, and of the complex issues surrounding its usage. Quite simply, most are not intending at all to be offensive. Firstly, I grant that fulltime mothers are substantially in the minority; therefore, there is an expectation and assumption that you may be doing some other work, and often a genuine confusion about even the possibility of this being one’s main occupation. In this sense, there is no intention to downplay motherhood, but rather it serves as a response to what is deemed normal in society.
I would respectifully hold, however, that the use of the ‘just’ still indicates an assumption that motherhood is not enough in itself; even if this is a normal assumption, it indicates a subservience to these societal norms rather than showing much awareness of the existence of an alternative view of motherhood.
Similarly, the ‘just’ is perhaps intended to highlight the mother’s potential in a number of areas, rather than to degrade what she may be solely doing; it is intended as a compliment, a note of surprise that you may not be using your other talents. This approach, however, tends to assume that your skills are not being used in parenthood, and indicates a lack of awareness or acceptance that the role of parenthood demands a variety of skills and traits that have to be developed and worked on just as in any other occupation. It may also forget the possibility that you may be doing this only for a time, and putting other skills and training aside for now – that there are phases in a woman’s life, one of which may be full-time motherhood as a legitimate occupation. There is a distinct dichotomy that is often drawn between motherhood and one’s Career goals; I often have the clear impression in all this that my ‘career’ is the rest of my life, which is completely put on hold, while I get this ‘other thing’ (motherhood) out of the way. It is not a very holistic or nuanced way of looking at life or one’s own contribution. I prefer to think of my occupation/s in terms of ‘vocation’, which can incorporate both motherhood and also the other skills and passions I choose to develop in order to make a living and contribute to society. It is increasingly common for people to have several career changes during their lifetime, and I see no problem in considering motherhood as part of developing one’s vocation through several different life phases, in a number of different contexts.
All this aside, the deep irony here is that giving into the ‘just’, and assuming that a woman should be doing ‘something else’, actually negates the original aims of feminism, which had at their heart the emancipation of women to have the freedom to make their own choices. To insist on women prioritising their own paid career development above all else, and to see that as the only way for true feminine fulfilment and societal contribution, is to fall into the same dogmatism and narrow-mindedness that feminism purportedly fought against. The inevitable result of this way of thinking is a society which subordinates the freedom of women to be mothers, and which legislates, in a perverse reversal of the original domestic focus of women’s affairs, for there to be only one legitimate path for a women to follow.
Far from such an extreme scenario, my point is simple: please choose another term to use when describing my current occupation. I can accept that confusion, ignorance, and prejudice surround this issue, and welcome genuine interest, but I would prefer it to be open and honest discussion, rather than the ambiguous, vaguely suspicious, and irritatingly ubiquitous ‘just’. Look, mothers, let’s practice. Repeat after me: I Am (pause for effect; this statement should be impressive in itself) A Mother. That’s it.