Monday, September 13, 2021

My parents didn’t send me to school to fold another man’s socks!

'My parents didn’t send me to school to fold another man’s socks!'

This is not a clickbait title, but a line that actually flashed in my head while putting away my husband’s washed socks at the end of a tiring day. This led me to a train of thoughts. I have fortunately never been in a predicament where I didn’t have a choice—folding socks or otherwise. Putting away laundry or setting the house in order comes out of my need for order and nothing else.

What I’m going to say now might raise some difficult questions but I’ve been wanting to speak about this for a while, for at least a year, actually.

I took a break from work soon after I got married, just to see what it is like to take care of a home and tend to a family. In less than a year, I took up studies and a full-time job soon after. Throughout a difficult pregnancy, childbirth, bringing up the child, I have been in some employment or the other, battling judgements, from within and from outside. I enjoyed every moment of my child’s growing-up as much as I enjoyed every project I had taken up.

My love, respect and admiration for all the women who get to choose what they want to do, with complete conviction—either taking up a job or staying at home. Once there is a vocalised choice with conviction, there might not be room for pain. I will get back to this in a bit.

There are so many women with no such choice. Their lives are studded with rhinestones of duty and sacrifice. Neither do they speak up, nor are they asked. Everything happens on assumption. Be it childbirth or accommodating the husband’s career, she is made to volunteer. If you notice, she is not solely responsible for either of these. In today’s times, these decisions are not forced explicitly. A responsibility card is thrust in their faces, ever so gently that no one notices it.

Let’s talk about a semi-urban to urban woman. A woman who is educated and has the skills to be employed well. What happens when she, by her own choice or otherwise, decides to give up her profession and stay back at home? She takes on much more than she had expected to. It rarely ends with cooking and caring for children. More often than not, she feels guilty about taking on domestic help of any kind. There is absolutely nothing to quantify the amount of work that goes on in a home. And if the woman is knowledgeable and independent, she is expected to take on more—driving children to classes or paying bills.

Housework is like quicksand that keeps sucking you in. With no one, in particular, to be blamed, it becomes a vicious cycle. First, the stay-at-home mother/wife takes on more work to assuage her feeling that she’s at home all day and therefore piles up her plate with more chores. It grows to a point when the rest of the family borders on becoming lazy or insensitive. It comes to a point when the lady’s presence at home is not enjoyed but demanded. Mind you, I am not drawing a fibre out of feminism or even sexism. My concerns are practical. I am only talking about fair play. Setting aside someone's clothes to be ironed or getting up to make a cup of coffee for someone when I have a minute does not make me any less but at the same time, it becomes a problem when these tasks are demanded or if the lady is questioned when they aren’t done.

Gone are those days when we glorified our mothers and grandmothers who were supposedly the fulcrum of the entire household. We were hardly familiar with the core of that person. Let bygones be bygones. With time, circumstances have changed. The household does not belong to one person. The man cannot shirk his responsibilities with the excuse of being ignorant or too busy. This effect is sure to trickle down to the children.
 

                                                    

The biggest fallout of all this is IDENTITY. Caught in this whirlpool of chores, the woman loses her sense of identity and forgets her passions and herself. Her individuality is camouflaged in the garb of the family’s interests. Over the years, this has been pointed out a million times already and at the risk of sounding clichéd, let me say that nothing is permanent. Nobody is indispensable. The home won’t need the mother/wife all the time. What happens then? She is suspended in a meaningless vacuum. Where is she to find her purpose? Does she get a break from the chores, even then?

Moving away from employment to take care of the home and children are most welcome if the decision is conscious and carefully thought of.

a. Who will take the decision? The lady and no one else. No one can evaluate the value of her employment except herself. There is a lot more to a woman being employed. Money is just one reason.

b. When will she get back to work? Is this a permanent arrangement or a temporary one? Can she take up anything flexible if she desires to? Will she have added a skill or enhanced her knowledge during this period?

c. Where do her personal interests and passions fit amidst all this? That must never be the last priority.

d. What is the ambit of the work she is going to be doing at home? It must come with its boundaries of capacity and time.

e. Where is the money going to come from? Is she going to have autonomy of finances? Is there going to be an operative bank account for household expenses? What happens to her own finances that she has already earned and saved out of prior employment?

f. What happens in case of an eventuality? Will either of the spouses be able to pick up from where the other has left off?

g. What about a sudden, additional responsibility of extended families, in-laws?

Maybe all this sounds like the cold fine print in a contract. Like it or not, these are things to be thought of to avoid any assumptions and heartache. Ultimately, everything about this decision must be collective, with no room for compulsion or benevolence. Everyone involved must understand the purpose of this decision so that there is neither a cry of martyrdom nor a sense of disrespect.

After all, every human being is born with a purpose that's more glorious than laundry. 

Images: 
Xanthe Bouma, source: theatlantic.com
Lost Identity by Hoda Esmaeilian, source: fineartamerica.com



 

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