One of my winter break reads (yes, the reviews are still trickling out, folks…) was the most recent book edited by my undergraduate advisor and very good friend (and blog reader!) Alice Lieberman. You should pick it up; I read it in just a few hours, as it’s really a collection of interviews with phenomenal women social workers around the world who have done (and are doing) amazing work.
Because it’s such an easy read, and because I know that you’re all looking for some more good books to add to your reading lists, at my suggestion, I’m just going to relate to the stories, in aggregate, in a couple of very personal ways. Besides, really, choosing just one of two to include here would be too difficult. Um, an ambassador? U.S. Senator? Iranian social worker who faced down a firing squad? One of the 100 most influential Hispanics in the country? And two nuns? You know how I feel about nuns…
On only about the third page of the book, still in the introduction, I had one of those lightbulb moments. I was really not aware, at all, of the literature about the powerful role that fathers, in particular, play in their daughters’ social and emotional development. That particular influence runs through many of the stories in the book, and it really hit a chord with me. In many of these cases, it’s obvious why supportive fathers are so important: in much of the developing world, without strong advocacy from the father, girls have very little access to education.
But that wasn’t the case for me, certainly, and yet I can think of no single greater influence in my decision to use my life to serve others, than my father. I thought of him a lot throughout the whole book. In an interview from Pakistan, an advocate speaks of seeing her mother berate a group of men who had just kicked a widow out of her house, and I thought of my Dad forcing a car off the road so that he could get out and drive the drunk (and unknown to us) man home. My favorite story in the book is in the chapter on Sister Jean Abbott, with whom I had the great honor to work some while I was in St. Louis. She speaks of her sister getting so excited when a man asked for a drink of water, because she thought this was her big chance to do what her father wanted: give someone more than what he/she had asked for. The man was quite taken aback with the huge breakfast her sister offered. It reminded me of my favorite story of my sister who, when asked to draw a picture of Jesus in Sunday School, drew him with a bald head and glasses. I don’t have to tell you what my Dad looks like.
The other very personal thing for me in this book was the realization that very few of the women profiled have children and partners, and some of those who do are either estranged from their families or acknowledge that they missed much of their children’s lives. I love my kids fiercely, and I gain tremendous joy from mothering them every day. Yet I am also very conscious of the opportunity cost of this intensive parenting–the more that I give to my kids, the less I have to give to others. I’m certainly not saying that I would have become an ambassador or an Ashoka fellow or anything, had I not chosen parenting, but I do wonder about that other path, sometimes. Having decided to have kids, I have very strong feelings about the role that I want to play in their lives, and yet I know what I’m not doing, then, as a result. And, of course, it made me think about how you’d likely never see those stories in a book about outstanding men and their contributions, and about how moms are the ones expected to straddle both worlds.
And it was also moving for me to see how many of the women spoke of Eleanor Roosevelt as an inspiration for their work. My daughter is named after her and has a framed picture of the former First Lady on her dresser. It is my sincere hope that my daughter grows up with some of the same compassion and wisdom and moral courage evidenced by her namesake and, apparently, many of those who seek to emulate her.
Less personal, but still powerful, was the very obvious interweaving of clinical and social change orientations in virtually all of the profiles in the book. I feel very strongly that bridging across this false divide is essential for the future of our profession and, I believe, key to our likelihood of success in grappling with the world’s problems, too. As woman after woman stated, it is when we bring our excellent people skills together with a macro-systems perspective and an unflinching commitment to social justice that we become truly powerful forces for change. Nearly all of the women took a more macro approach in school, and certainly in their practice, but they value their clinical experience and clinical tools, as well.
And, finally, my favorite quotes, which honestly reminded me of several of you!
“a dislike for injustice was one of her principal traits” (p. 113)
“it is difficult to say whether (she) chose social work or social work chose her” (p. 41)
And, in a quote of St. Francis of Assisi, “preach and, if necessary, use words” (p. 125)
What women in social work particularly inspire you? Or do you have your own story to tell about a parent’s influence, or the cost of family responsibilities, or being a woman in this “female” profession?
As of September 2008, Rwanda became the first country in the world with a majority of female legislators. The constitution requires that women make up at least 30% of Parliament; partially because of necessity (after the 1994 genocide, women are 70% of the population) and partially because the population saw electing more women as a sort of safeguard against a reprise of that horrific violence. Once women were elected, voters lost some of their reluctance to elect more, and, as a result, Rwanda is now 
Policy Reform to Make Every Day a Happy Mothers’ Day
Who makes me a mom–my big kid at age 3 and the twins at 3 months
Yesterday was Mothers’** Day (okay, so I’m really writing this the week before, since I usually spend Mothers’ Day sleeping late and then just playing with my kids, but give me a break–it’s Mothers’ Day!).
This post isn’t about any inspirational lessons my kids have taught me, though, or the history of the holiday, or anything heartwarming like those email forwards about sick kids that people always send around this time of year (that I curse under my breath but still cry at?).
It’s about public policy reforms that would make every mother’s life better, and make our country a better place in the process, and about building the kind of political movement that would make that happen.
It’s about really believing that it could, that it can, that it will, because moms manage to make some pretty amazing things happen every day, there are a lot of us, and, well, even the most jaded politicians are afraid to be “anti-Mom”.
This spring, I read The Motherhood Manifesto. It’s terrific–stories about ordinary moms and how public policy changes would make a difference in their lives, and in ours. For several months, I’ve been an active member of MomsRising, a truly fantastic blog/advocacy group/support for progressive parents that takes on the policy priorities (maternity leave, open/flexible work, after-school programs, health care for all, excellent childcare, realistic & fair wages, and paid sick days) that stem from The Motherhood Manifesto, but, in today’s digital age, it’s a site that uses video and social networking and the highlighted voices of real parents to inspire action. If you are a mom, or you want to honor one, check it out.
Reading the book and communicating with other moms on the site, I think that there’s a real missed opportunity not to just press for these policy priorities, but also to activate families more and include a ‘motherhood (and apple pie is always good)’ appeal in other policy advocacy, too. For example, there’s a real claim to make that providing greater access to health care outside of the employer-employee relationship would open up job options for mothers and fathers who want flexibility but often sacrifice it for full-time positions that come with benefits (which can mean, then, that one parent settles for less employment than he/she (usually she) would like, because the other is in an overwhelming job that comes with health insurance). I don’t hear the pro-mother, pro-family, pro-labor market flexibility argument much in the health care debate these days, and it seems to be a missing element.
Similarly, the discussion around universal preschool and greater supports for early childhood education highlights the high cost, scarce availability, and spotty quality of childcare options, but gives short shrift to the struggles of childcare providers, many of whom are themselves mothers, who, despite the unaffordability of childcare for many parents, often earn poverty wages for their families. Uniting mothers who are childcare providers and those who are childcare consumers seems key to building a coalition that will shift the public understanding of childcare to something that more parallels higher education, where considerable public subsidy is considered an essential component of a thriving economy and society.
I am very, very aware of the many privileges that make motherhood a (usually) pleasant journey for me: a partner who shares a lot of the family work load; life insurance that would keep our family from being devastated if something happened to either one of us; a part-time job that allows me a lot of flexibility; a higher education that makes that job a possibility; extended family nearby; a safe neighborhood full of people who view our children as partly their responsibility; access to health care for my kids…I can’t imagine being a mom without these supports, and yet the reality is that most mothers are denied many of them.
Still, my reality is that I won’t make what I did once I go back to work full-time (the motherhood wage hit is about 30%, and it lasts for years, ON TOP OF the $700,000 lifetime hit women take in earnings due to the wage gap); I’m not saving anything for my retirement; I do more than half of the housework and the vast majority of the hands-on childcare; I panic whenever our childcare falls through; I work and parent even when I’m sick; including caring for my kids, I ‘work’ about 80 hours/week, but I’ll only get Social Security credits for a fraction of that. I see around me mothers who wish they were working but couldn’t make enough to pay for childcare, mothers who wish they could see their kids more but don’t want to sacrifice their careers, mothers who only have 2-3 weeks at home after having a baby, mothers who rationalize sending their kids to poor-quality childcare because they can’t afford anything else, mothers who themselves aren’t earning what they’re really worth.
It’s wrong, our nation can’t afford it, and our families deserve better. Nearly every other developed nation does a better job of surrounding mothers with investments for success than ours–we know what would help, and we know that the we will reap the rewards for decades to come. Please, go make it a Happy Mothers’ Day, today and tomorrow and the next day…
**I’m intentional about the placement of the possessive here; “mother’s day” would be about honoring one’s own mother, which, you know, is fine, but certainly not revolutionary. I consider it “mothers’ day”, which, if we took it seriously enough, could change our world.
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Posted in Analysis and Commentary
Tagged advocacy, family, policy analysis, women