The Conflict (7 page)

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Authors: Elisabeth Badinter

The 1970s were characterized by women's clarion call of “Me first!”
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It was a call aimed primarily at men, but also at their children. Mothers told their personal stories: they were encouraged to express themselves on the great taboo subject of maternal ambivalence and even on their feelings of alienation from their babies.
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Books and confessions poured out, publicly voicing what today is confided solely
to the psychologist.
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Even if those voices constituted only a minority, they nonetheless stripped motherhood of its sanctity, gave new life to women's desires, and banished feelings of guilt from the silent sufferers who found no reward in child rearing.
Milk and Time
Advocating on-demand breast-feeding for as long as the child wants it effectively deprives a mother of her time. If you add to this the obligation to stay by his side until the age of three to optimize his development, she receives the message that any other interest is secondary and morally inferior, since the ideal mother is enmeshed with her child bodily and mentally. The fact that this model is unavailable to a good many women who cannot afford the luxury of staying at home and undesirable to plenty of others has not silenced its boosters, in both public opinion and individual practice.
An ideological turning point occurred in 1990 among the generation of women who were then in their twenties. The daughters of feminists, militant or otherwise, they proceeded to engage in a classic settling of accounts with their mothers. After thanking them for winning the right to contraception and abortion, the daughters then demanded an admission of failure. Their accusation to their mothers could be summarized thus: You sacrificed everything for your
independence and you ended up with twice as much work. You were underrated in the workplace and spent too little time at home; you lost out on all fronts. They did not intend to repeat their mothers' mistakes.
The daughters also rejected the “feminist” label, as if it cast women in a bad light. Indeed, some among the new generation embraced the most clichéd male stereotypes of feminism, associating it with hysteria, aggression, carnality, and man-hating. The judgment was final: feminism had passed its sell-by date.
Beneath this rejection of feminism lurked a deeper criticism of motherhood as their mothers had practiced it. Perhaps they really meant: In pursuit of your independence, you sacrificed me as well. You didn't give me enough love, enough care, enough time. You were always in a hurry and often tired; you thought the quality of the time you spent with me was more important than the quantity. The truth is, I was not your top priority and you were not a good mother. I won't do the same with my children.
Unfair or not, this condemnation of mothers by their daughters is common and widely recognized in psychoanalysis. But now, for the first time, the mothers being criticized were precisely the ones who had fought for women's independence. As the daughters became mothers themselves, they talked less about their freedom and personal ambitions, or even about equal pay. They put these claims on the back burner while they gave priority to their children. At the same
time, there was more talk of how important it was to “negotiate” a work-family balance and “reconcile” time spent at work with time spent as a mother.
This change in attitudes, which took place during an economic crisis, was accelerated by the mass unemployment affecting all Western countries. In France, paid parental leave
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was increased in 1994, prompting a significant withdrawal from the workplace by mothers of young children, particularly among those with the least qualifications. At the other end of the social scale, highly qualified women, especially those in liberal professions, also retreated to the home when they became mothers. In 2003, the
New York Times
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announced that we were witnessing an “opt-out revolution,” a move on the part of professional women to leave work and stay at home with their children.
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More often than not, these women had partners who were able to meet their family's needs comfortably; for single mothers and divorcées there is no such choice.
It is too early to know whether these new patterns constitute a genuine revolution. For now, the statistics for working women have remained fairly stable. On the other hand, the idea that women can simultaneously be good mothers and pursue impressive careers is under attack. It is true that there has been a significant rise in women working part-time. Many mothers choose to work fewer hours to fit the criteria of a good mother, but a large number of women have had part-time work imposed on them by the shrinking
workplace. Either way, the result is that the salary gap between men and women has remained the same, if not grown slightly wider.
Another Look at the Swedish Model
No one doubts that Sweden has made considerable efforts to reconcile motherhood with a career and create conditions for equality in the workplace. On top of the parental leave that absorbs 40 percent of the country's family policies budget, flexible working hours for both parents of children under eight,
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and time off to care for sick children, Sweden also offers state day care.
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In sum, the Swedish model is in the vanguard of European family policies.
With what results?
As we have seen, fathers take only one-fifth of the parental leave available. As for mothers, 80 percent return to work, but two in five opt for part-time jobs.
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When Catherine Hakim published
Key Issues in Women's Work
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in 1996, she revealed that Swedish family policies were not as conducive to sexual equality as was previously believed. They were favorable to raising the birthrate but considerably less so to advancing women's careers. Studying all the usual criteria for measuring equality in the workplace, Hakim showed that Sweden was barely faring any better than England or France.
Looking at salaries, Hakim cites findings that 80 percent of Swedish women are paid below a given threshold, while
80 percent of men were paid above it. One reason for the divide was that two-thirds of Swedish women worked in the public sector, while 75 percent of men worked in the more difficult and demanding private sector. According to Hakim, the more the state extended its family policies, the less inclined private companies were to hire women because, they claimed, they could not afford such generous maternity leave. On top of this, the glass ceiling was no less cruel in Sweden than elsewhere. Hakim's data showed that women comprised only 1.5 percent of top management at a time when that figure was at 11 percent in the United States. However by 2010, that figure, measured by the number of women in executive committees, had reached 14 percent in the United States and 17 percent in Sweden.
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As for the salary gap between men and women (the ultimate criterion for sexual equality), Hakim highlighted the fact that in countries with less generous family policies, the salary gap tended to be smaller. This remains true: in 2009, Swedish women across the board were paid around 16 percent less than Swedish men, comparable to France and Spain.
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In the same year, the pay gap in Australia was around 17 percent.
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In Italy, by contrast, the gap in 2009 was only 5.5 percent; in Belgium 9, and in Poland 10 percent. (Hakim omits to point out that the birthrate has dropped dramatically in Italy.)
To date, no family policy has proved truly effective at improving equality between men and women. The division
of work between a couple is still unequal in every country, including Scandinavia. The increasingly onerous responsibilities placed on mothers just aggravate the situation. Only fully sharing parental roles from birth could counter this trend, yet in the name of our children's well-being we are taking the opposite route. Sexist men can celebrate: we will not see the end of their reign anytime soon. They have won a war without taking up arms, and without having said a word. The champions of maternalism took care of it all.
OVERLOADING THE BOAT
Every culture subscribes to an a ideal of motherhood, although it might vary with the times. Whether or not they are aware of it, all women are influenced by that ideal. They might accept or avoid it, negotiate with or reject it, but ultimately their choices are made in relation to it.
Today's ideal is supremely demanding, even more than twenty years ago, when people had already begun to register the expanding demands made of mothers. As American sociologist Michelle Stanworth noted, “Mothering involves responsibility not only for the physical and emotional care of children, but for detailed attention to their psychological, social and intellectual development. Motherhood is seen, more than in the past, as a full-time occupation. Mothers may be expected now to lavish as much ‘care' on two children
as they might previously have provided for six.”
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However, today's ideal of a woman is different from that of a mother. Personal fulfillment has become the driving motivation of our time. Women thus find themselves caught in a multiple contradiction.
The first of these is social. While boosters of the traditional family condemn working mothers, companies resent them for their children. For many, motherhood is held as the highest form of fulfillment for women even as yet it is devalued socially. Full-time mothers are unpaid, suspected of doing nothing all day, and deprived of a professional identity because their work requires no qualifications. In a society where most people work and ideal women have successful careers, anyone who stays at home or puts her children first risks being dismissed as insignificant.
The second contradiction is conjugal. Couples tend to expect and desire children, yet, as many have noted, a child is not conducive to a couple's love life. Exhaustion, lack of sleep and intimacy, and the constraints and sacrifices imposed by a child can get the better of a couple. Many partners separate in the first three years after a child is born. A good number of young couples admit that they only realized the demands of the job after the fact
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(“no one warned me,” they say). Increasingly, partners are taking a hard second look before launching on this adventure.
The most painful contradiction lies is personal, affecting every woman who does not identify fully with motherhood,
every woman who feels torn between love for her child and personal desires, between wanting the best for her baby and wanting the best for herself. A child conceived as a source of fulfillment can, it turns out, stand in the way of that fulfillment.
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And, if we pile up a mother's responsibilities to the point of overload, she will feel this contradiction all the more keenly.
These contradictions are rarely given serious consideration. And by expecting ever more of mothers, the naturalist ideology not only fails to offer solutions, it makes the contradictions untenable. In different countries, of course, these contradictions differ in their degree of acuteness. There are two distinct tendencies, which vary according to how closely each country identifies women with mothers. Wherever the prevailing ideal conflates the two, women who cannot fulfill the expectations pinned on them are increasingly likely to turn their backs on motherhood. In countries where being a woman and being a mother are seen as distinct identities, where the legitimacy of multiple women's roles is recognized, and where motherhood does not overwhelm all other possibilities, women do want to have children, even if it means falling short of the ideal of motherhood.
THE DIVERSITY OF WOMEN'S ASPIRATIONS
Women today are faced with a new question: What should I do to feel fulfilled? Is motherhood the most enriching experience available to me? Would I be more fulfilled by a career? If I don't want to sacrifice either possibility, to which should I give priority? For most women, a life without children is unthinkable, but they do not wish to give up their financial independence, their social lives, and their means of self-affirmation. Over the last thirty years, women have planned to have children later and later in their lives. The average age at which women now have their first child is around thirty, once they have finished studying and training, found work, and met a stable partner. There are many preliminaries that involve putting off having a child until later, or, as it turns out, never. For some women, the decision
to have children, as sociologist Pascale Donati has said, is not so much rejected as “inactivated.”
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For those rare others, children are simply out of the question.
Vocational Motherhood
Women who find motherhood wholly fulfilling often talk about themselves in terms of instinct. Journalist Pascale Pontoreau wrote:
I wanted to have children quickly. Lots of children. Every time I mentioned the insistent call of my maternal instinct my friends would tease me. Before long I began to feel that wanting children was some kind of compulsion, an irrational longing deep within me and very hard to explain. I had to set aside sober thinking to make way for pregnancy, and then for the enchantment of my adorable little girl … .
The only thing that mattered was the deep, powerful, indestructible desire that carried me through to the end of my first pregnancy. It was autonomous, irrevocable, visceral. I realized that this longing for motherhood was not the result of a thought process. It had emerged instinctively.
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For women who feel this vocation, their fulfillment does not stop at intimacy with their newborn. The child becomes
their life's work because he is a thrilling creation that nothing else can rival. Taking care of him, helping him develop from one milestone to the next, the joy and pride of seeing him become an adult—this is hardly an unambitious enterprise, quite the opposite. But for true fulfillment, which is never guaranteed, both the mother and the child must derive pleasure from the process. She has, after all, abandoned her work to become the “exclusive”
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or “intensive”
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mother recommended by the Brazeltons and Antiers of this world. The child's needs are the center of her universe, she invests deeply in him emotionally, and she is more than happy to devote all her time and energy to him.
These mothers do exist, but are they common? How many women stay at home to bring up a child and realize they have made a mistake by leaving their jobs? How many leave a monotonous job for a task they thought would be wonderful but turns out to be depressing? Some women might admit to their closest friends that they feel drained or crazy. But how could they know exclusive motherhood would feel like this until they had tried it? And how can they admit to having making the wrong choice?
Nullipara
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Then there are women who do have a vocation for motherhood but are unable to have children. How do they manage to get over their loss? Whether chosen or imposed, being
without children, which is what differentiates women from mothers, is a state that connotes deficiency and incompleteness. Some women claim that state deliberately; others never recover from it. Involuntary childlessness leaves many women feeling severed from their essence and from their place in the world. Novelist Jane Sautière expressed this in her novel
Nullipara
:
Nullipara. The first thing I hear is that empty sound, “nul.” But there is also “para,” the Greek for “beside,” which to me means “sidelined.” A women who is nullipara will always be on the sidelines, will never be part of something. It sounds so much like “nulle part,” which means “nowhere.” A woman from nowhere, inadmissible on the grounds of her origins (and in case we forget, it is always the origins that the offspring want to know about), an empty place and an emptier woman wandering over it.
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Of course, infertility might not be the reason for this childless woman's sorrow. The vagaries of life, circumstantial events, missed opportunities—these all might have made the decision for her. Some scholars
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are dubious about personal explanations for this kind of childlessness, arguing that the cause ultimately always lies with social and economic factors. Although this socioeconomic view offers a rather limited understanding of a woman's motives, it does nonetheless help shed light on the murkier aspects of unrealized
motherhood. But whatever interpretations of childlessness psychologists and sociologists might suggest, surely the bottom line is that having a child was not the highest priority and the woman in question did not identify with motherhood as closely as she might think.
Infertile women (or couples) are in quite a different situation, yet they, like people who do not want children, are all too often the target of criticism. They are all equally suspect. Those who can't have children are expected to put up with it nobly, while those who do not want them are condemned as selfish, irresponsible, somehow impaired. One way or the other, their lot is public disapproval and their sentence is psychoanalysis, either to help them get over it—that is, accept their “abnormal” fate—or to get comfortable with the norm and comply with expectations. Who cares whether the infertile woman might have made an exceptional mother, while the other one, the woman who does not want children, might have been a dreadful one? No one asks this question; our society prefers not to examine such subtleties.
Over the last twenty years, an increasing number of women have chosen to opt out of motherhood. The phenomenon is not in fact new: a hundred years ago, a large proportion of women did not have children
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—those in holy orders, those too poor to marry, servants. They formed the ranks of the
childless, a fate that was often endured rather than chosen. Today we understand the phenomenon differently, not only because women have far greater freedom to choose motherhood or not but because they also have other possible and desirable choices, which means that their fate is no longer synonymous with motherhood. Some women have always felt that they have a choice; others realize it at some point in their lives; still others are surprised to realize that they never grasped or exercised their ability to choose.
Saying No to Children
In France, almost a third of women who do not have children say they made a deliberate choice.
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This minority has been called the “early articulators.” Within this group, there are people who admit to simply not liking children (something that could hardly be voiced until recently), people who claim to be acting in the interest of the child, and people who have put their own desires first.
Philosopher Michel Onfray, a strong advocate against marriage and having children, gives voice to the notion of remaining childless for the sake of the child. His position is rooted in a moral hedonism:
Children, who in the first place never actually ask to be born, are entitled to expect not only material support from their parents, but also psychological, ethical, intellectual, cultural
and spiritual support for at least the first two decades of life. Since father- and motherhood are not ethical imperatives but metaphysical options, the urge to bring life into the world must absolutely be backed by the ability and intention to make that life as worthwhile as possible.
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To those who accuse childless people of selfishness, Onfray says that perhaps those who choose to have children are even more selfish:
People who choose not to have children love them just as much, if not more, than parents who are abundantly fruitful. Asked why he had abstained from producing an heir, Thalès de Millet replied: “Precisely because I love children … . Who truly finds reality sufficiently desirable to introduce their son or daughter to the inevitability of death, to the treachery of man's dealings with man, to the self-interest that fuels the world, to the burden of being forced to do tiring work for pay, if not to precarious unemployment? How could parents be so naïve, stupid and short-sighted as to love misery, illness, destitution, poverty, old age and misery enough to want to pass them on to their offspring? … Should we really use the word
love
to describe the transmission of such evils to the flesh of our flesh?”
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Those who have taken a rather more pragmatic and individualist position on not having children tend to talk directly
in terms of personal fulfillment. They have made a choice to live their lives in a particular way, associating motherhood with burden and loss—of freedom, energy, money, pleasure, intimacy, and even identity. A child is synonymous with sacrifice and frustrating, even repellent, obligations; it is perhaps a threat to the stability and happiness of one's relationships.
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These women have abortions if they become pregnant and sometimes choose to be sterilized.
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They refer to themselves as “child-free” rather than childless because they are free of children and therefore of motherhood.
The Postponers
Most young women readily acknowledge that they would like to become mothers,
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but motherhood is not their immediate priority. They feel they have plenty of time to make that choice and more pressing goals: to earn a living, create a home, build a career, find the right partner, and make the most of their freedom together. Once settled in a relationship, both partners need to make the decision to have a child; they both need to feel “ready.”
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If one of these goals is not reached, the decision is postponed. As Pascale Donati says, “Wanting children does not mean that the conditions for deciding to have one have been met.”
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The obstacle to constant postponement, however, is the woman's biological clock, which at some point puts an end to the process. A woman in her late thirties still has a 70 percent chance of
being able to bear a child; in her early forties, the rate drops precipitously, to closer to 30 percent.
Canadian sociologist Jean E. Veevers, one of the first to do work related to couples known as “postponers,”
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identified four stages in a progression from wanting children to not wanting to have them. In the first stage, the couple, or individual, gives priority to achieving a number of specific goals. In the second, they postpone the decision to an undetermined time: the couple is increasingly vague about the question and say they will have a child when they feel “more ready for it.” The third stage is recognition, for the first time, of the possibility of not having children, and the beginning of discussions about the advantages and disadvantages of this choice. Finally, in the fourth stage, the couple decides to remain childless rather than disrupt their lives and relationship.
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Veevers points out that in most cases the decision is not made explicitly. The process is acknowledged after the fact.
Women who enjoy fulfilling lives as part of a couple form only one group among the postponers. Others have never been in that position and find themselves postmenopausal and childless almost “by chance.”
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The range of experiences in this group varies widely: some women “neither want nor don't want children;” they put the question aside at first; it gradually fades or resurfaces “from time to time without ever materializing into a plan.”
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Other women definitely wanted to be mothers but did not meet the right man or met
him too late; and some see themselves as victims of circumstances that stopped them from translating their wishes into reality.
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Whether the reasons given are social, psychological, or economic, these postponers talk as if, in the absence of the foundation of marriage, imperceptible and uncontrollable forces have worked to reduce the chance of having children.
What is worth noting is that generally, the women in this group of voluntary postponers do not seem to be driven to act by maternal instinct. After all, a woman without a partner (or a willing partner) does have the option, in our age, of having a child alone, free from social stigma.
In principle, most Western women want to be able to join their interests as women and their desire to be mothers. They want the means for their independence, a chance to establish themselves professionally, and fulfilling social lives and relationships. At the same time, they also want to experience motherhood, with all the love and joy that come with a child. These women do want to have it all.
To achieve this ideal, they are having children later, and fewer of them. But as soon as the first child is born, they find themselves having to negotiate between their two identities.
The Negotiators
These negotiations are made all the more difficult because the demands of both parts of women's lives are so great. Today's ideal of motherhood is at odds with the ever harsher pressures of the world of work. How is a woman to satisfy one realm without sacrificing the other? This question has been complicated over the last thirty years by a succession of economic crises and the threat of unemployment. And at the time, this was precisely the period when the ideal of the good mother became truly onerous.
A recent Australian study
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by sociologists JaneMaree Maher and Lise Saugeres shows the extent to which commonly held views on motherhood can affect women's choices. Even though a good many mothers manage to negotiate with the ideal, all women, whether or not they have children, are influenced by at least certain of its aspects. In Australia, as in the United States and Great Britain, the model of “intensive” motherhood described by sociologist Sharon Hays,
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whereby women are expected to be totally available to their children, holds considerable sway.
Maher and Saugeres argue that this cultural image of the good mother tends to be accepted at face value by women who do not have children, while those who do develop a less restrictive view of the subject. Unlike childless women, they often find they can reconcile their role as mothers and
other personal goals. They might acknowledge the validity of the prevailing ideal, but the actual experience of motherhood demystifies the reality. According to Maher and Saugeres, there is “an increasing gap between how mothering is viewed and how it is practiced.”
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The women interviewed for this study talk about motherhood as only a part of what they do and who they are. They are not unaware of the pressure to raise their children full-time, but most say they do not want to give in to it. Their identities as working women are not up for discussion. Thus they engage in negotiation.
The balance between these women's identities is fragile and unstable; the negotiations are never definitively settled. They evolve according to the child's age and needs, and the woman's professional circumstances and opportunities—two sets of interests that can be completely contradictory. If the child presents an unexpected problem, the ideal of motherhood, which has thus far been successfully sidestepped, rears up in full force. The mother is inevitably guilty. This specter of the bad mother hovers over a woman all the more oppressively if she has internalized the ideal of the good mother. When confronted by such conflicting demands, both the woman and the mother feel they are falling short. Faced with this scenario, more and more women choose to avoid it.

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