Strange Stirrings

I'm blogging in celebration of finishing a paper. Two down, one to go. Woot.

So, I’m reading Stephanie Coontz’ book, Strange Stirrings,  about the 1960s and the reaction to the Feminist Mystique. Don’t worry—I totally shave my armpits. I saw her interviewed on The Colbert Report, and I thought they were so funny, that I Amazoned it a few minutes later. Apparently, if the author is willing to make fun of her book, I suddenly have to have it. I felt the need to share an excerpt (nobody sue me over copyright issues, please)…later we can all burn our bras and wear wooden clogs.

…Advice books for girls and women hammered home the idea that a woman’s greatest goal should be to get married and that she should bury her own interests and impulses in order to please and flatter a man into proposing. Even today some advice books for females are based on this idea, but such books stand out today precisely because they are out of step with mainstream mores. In 1963, Helen Andelin self-published Fascinating Womanhood, which became a runaway best seller when it was picked up by a mainstream publishing house in 1965. Andelin counseled women that the way to a happy marriage was to become “the perfect follower.” She urged them to cultivate a “girlish trust” in their man and never to “appear to know more than he does.” A woman should never let her voice exhibit such qualities as “loudness, firmness, efficiency, boldness.” While it was okay to get angry, she told them, you should be sure to display only “childlike anger,” which included “stomping your feet” and scolding your man in terms that flattered his sense of masculinity, such as “you big hairy beast.”

Does anyone feel like this could be a huge insult to male intelligence? If I called Michael a “big hairy beast” and then talked quietly (not loudly or efficiently), I think he’d be offended and think that I was mocking him. I think the “perfect follower” is a liar. It also sort of cheapens marriage. There’s something special about commitment—there’s nothing special about tricking a guy to propose.

An article in the January 1960 McCall’s, “Look Before You Leap,” presented a list of questions for prospective brides to answer before they married. The magazine urged the woman to be sure she would be able to press her husband’s trousers, iron his shirts, and cook meals he liked. It also asked: “Has he pointed out things about you that he doesn’t like, and have you changed because of what he’s says?” The correct answer was, of course, yes, but women’s magazines and advice books were unanimous in warning women against pointing out anything they didn’t like in their mates.

Beyond obviously limiting woman’s capacity and intellectual focus to ironing, this again basically tells woman to lie to their husbands. Wouldn’t it be nicer if you ironed some pants because you recognized that the pants needed to be ironed and it made the most sense for you to do it, instead of because you are supposed to?

Once they were married, women’s work was truly never done. Typical of the advice to wives at the dawn of the 1960s was a piece in the December 18. 1930, issue of Family Weekly magazine, inspired by the fact that the student council of New York University’s college of engineering regularly presented “Good Wife” certificates to “worth” wives whose “encouragement, collaboration and understanding” had helped their husbands complete their degrees. “Could You Win the ‘Good Wife Certificate?’ asked the author, a noted marital advice authority of the day. He proceeded to enumerate what it took to make the grade: A good wife makes her husband “feel that he is the boss at home.” She “shares her husband’s goals, fitting them to her own. She is willing to wait patiently for the ultimate rewards.”

I think it’s pretty obvious that your partners often support and buoy your endeavors. But this idea that door only swings one way is pretty scary. I also just can’t get over the idea that “supporting and encouraging” is something that you’re supposed to do—because, frankly, it becomes less meaningful, like it’s all an act.

She understands that “physical love is a symbol of devotion rather than an end in itself, and she is aware that such physical need is usually greater in the male.” For this reason, she “never makes him feel inadequate.”

Oh man.

In conversations, the good wife permits her husband “to take the lead” without interrupting. “She follows an open door policy” for his friends, “even if she finds them dull or sometimes disagreeable.” But she also respects her husband’s need for privacy so “she leans when to keep quiet…If he’d rather read or watch a ball game on television, she avoids disturbing him with idle chatter.”

…She does not insist that her husband share in household chores of child care “her mate is not converted into a mother substitute.” Finally, if she has a part-time career or full-time job, it doesn’t take priority in her life, and her own work should not become more important to her than his.”

There is a clear subjugation of woman’s roles here—but how about Daddy. He’s just supposed to bring home the bacon; his participation in child rearing is just acting as a “mother substitute.” I’m glad my dad was allowed to love me. As much as I wouldn’t want to be the wife in this scenario, I wouldn’t want to be the husband either. By the way, I challenge you to meet a good parent that puts their work before their children, male or female. You know who else gets a bum deal? The kids. I’m very confident that my mom (and dad) made the right choices for me, because she loved me and she wanted to—not because she was following a handy rule book and just doing her duty. That totally cheapens motherhood. It’s like sucking out all the good parts of families and leaving just housework and placating your husband’s ego. Yuck.

Anyway, the book is a pretty light-hearted look at 1960s inequality. That might have seemed like a silly statement, but it can get a lot worse, I’ll tell you. It’s also nice to read something contemporary, instead of something from that movement.

And if you don’t like this blog post, I’ll just call you a hairy beast and then you can tell me what’s wrong with me.