Becky Home Ecky or Bobbi Day Jobby?

We are taught to believe one story. Little Suzy grew up kind and innocent. She was cherished by her peers, adored by her teachers, and loved by her parents. She fell in love in high school, and got married soon after graduation. Going from the protective shelter of her father into her husband’s home.

 Though soon after, innocent Suzy would be forced to take care of her several young children, do all of the housework, and care for her husband. As a result, suffering Suzy would be stripped of the possibility of freedom. Trapped in a flawed system.

My mom was raised in the 1960s and 70s in Grand Junction, Colorado. She was a cheerleader, track athlete, and gymnast growing up. Her dad was a school principal and her mom worked for the Chamber of Commerce. Her parents divorced soon after she graduated high school.

She earned a college degree from the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley and completed several internships while competing in collegiate gymnastics throughout college. She got a job, lived in her own apartment and supported herself financially following college graduation.

 It wasn’t until she was 28 years old that she married my dad, and not until she was 30 that she had her first child (my brother) in 1994, and then me in 1996. She chose to quit her job and devote her time and attention to raising her children. A choice which is criminalized or endorsed, depending on who you ask.

In most social situations, a woman’s accomplishments are boiled down to her professional achievements. After running into an old friend when me and my brother were young, my mom was asked how she was doing. A fake hug, an exchange of information, and at least one pointed question.

“What are you up to?”

My mom, holding me my brother and I’s hands, told her how our family had recently moved to Fort Collins, how Zak and I were adjusting to school, about how my dad was doing, about our new dog…

“But what do you do?” her friend pressed

Over the course of my young life, I heard this question more than once.   

As if to say, “What career do you have?... What accomplishments have you made?”

But for women in professional situations, a woman’s accomplishments are often reduced to her status as a mother. Passing colored sticky notes, composing emails, or chatting next to the water fountain.

“How do you manage to leave your poor daughter/son at home all day while you work?”

“Don’t you need to get home to cook dinner?”  

My dentist once looked at me with his magnified bifocals told me that the majority of today’s youth are all spoiled rotten. He attributed it to the fact that these children did not receive a proper upbringing, or a mother’s love, because it had become common for both parents to work.

A woman is simultaneously expected to be a devoted wife, a caring mother, and a committed worker in her 9-5 job. However, having a career and having a family are not mutually exclusive endeavors. A woman can have children, she can have a career, or she can have both.  

Like many others in Fort Collins, my mom is part of several “women’s groups.” She volunteers at the Larimer County Food Bank every Monday with her friends, Elisa and Mary. She goes to Pilates on Tuesdays and Thursdays and glassblowing each week with her friend Allison. Occasional lunch dates with Suzanne, Carolyn, Sue, Marian, or Melissa. She has gone to coffee group with her friends Elisa, Barb, and Sara nearly every week for fifteen years. She is an alumnae member of Fort Collins National Charity League.

She runs a small business where she makes customized silver jewelry out of our house in Fort Collins. She has been a Northern Colorado high school gymnastics official for more than 30 years. And my mom has been an incredibly dedicated, supportive, and loving parent to me and my brother for our entire lives.

I once asked my nana (my mom’s mom) if she considered herself a feminist. She said she believed in equal pay for equal work because that’s the only part of the feminist movement that matters. She said all the “crazy ladies” burning their bras were ruining it for everyone else, and that it would be nice if people still opened the door for her.

Perhaps my mom is a product of her environment. She is not someone I would classify as a “feminist,” and I don’t think she’d want to be. My mom is a part of many “groups,” she has a number of responsibilities, and more than one identity.  She is more than her choice to be a stay-at-home mom. She is a college-graduate, a philanthropist, an entrepreneur, a friend, an official, a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a mother. But most importantly, she is an individual.

The danger of the women’s movement is not in believing that women should be treated equally to men. The danger is not even holding a protest banner, having strong opinions, or calling yourself a “feminist”. The danger of the women’s movement lies in the perception that there is only one story. The belief that every housewife is miserable because she sacrificed her freedom or that every career-woman is selfish for neglecting her children.