On the final day of a graduate English course, we faced the daunting task of sharing our career aspirations with a room full of peers. One classmate passionately discussed the intricacies of High German linguistics, while another delved into the works of Michael Field, the controversial aunt-niece duo who wrote love letters to their Pekingese. Others shared their literary ambitions, but then there was Clara.
Clara stood up and boldly declared that she intended to drop out after this semester, focus on raising children, and manage an organic farm. Our jaws dropped in disbelief. Clara seemed to be rejecting everything we believed feminism stood for: utilizing our talents, striving for success, and breaking through glass ceilings. The idea of dedicating oneself to home and family felt like a betrayal of our feminist education.
Fast forward a few years, and I found myself on a similar path as Clara. I left my Ph.D. program to stay home with my son, and eventually had two more. Instead of engaging in academic debates about Foucault and Chomsky, my days are filled with laundry, homeschooling, and science experiments using recycled materials. I trade my tailored outfits for yoga pants and flowy dresses. While I don’t cultivate an organic garden, I have a unique bog garden with carnivorous plants and a knack for crocheting quirky hats for my kids.
Like many stay-at-home moms, I’ve noticed that feminism often overlooks our contributions. There’s little recognition for the work we do in raising children—no glory in changing diapers, simmering mac and cheese, or teaching the ABCs. Even breastfeeding, something that could be celebrated as a uniquely female experience, is often dismissed as merely a burden, with critiques labeling it the last acceptable form of “women’s work.”
Caregiving is relegated to the shadows, a role filled by maids, nurses, and, yes, stay-at-home moms, who desperately need feminism to elevate us to our “true potential.” There’s a prevailing notion that we should strive for something greater than caring for others, as if nurturing our children is somehow beneath us.
Even as I engage in activities like reading The Cat in the Hat, making grilled cheese sandwiches, or painting crafts, I’m often told that I’m wasting my education and potential. It’s as if society believes that anyone can do what I do, which undermines the skill and dedication it actually takes. They suggest I should outsource my responsibilities to daycare or school and focus on academic pursuits instead.
But here’s the truth: I love being a stay-at-home mom. This isn’t a 1950s housewife scenario; I am not trapped in a role. I actively chose this path for my own fulfillment and the well-being of my children. And believe it or not, I engage in my own form of feminist activism; I’m a breastfeeding advocate and have spent significant time teaching others about babywearing. I even lead homeschool classes occasionally. My life is rich and meaningful, even if it doesn’t fit the traditional feminist narrative.
I was a feminist in grad school, and I am a feminist now. I refuse to discard that label just because some argue that my choices don’t fit their definition. I stand for all mothers who consciously choose to stay home, who embrace their roles in a society that often belittles caregiving and the importance of children.
If feminism is about making choices and living authentically without external pressures, then I and many others are unapologetically feminists. Sure, some days are tough and I might fantasize about running away to Vegas, but I find joy in the life I’ve chosen. And in the end, that’s what feminism truly embodies.
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Summary
The article discusses how mainstream feminism often neglects the contributions of stay-at-home mothers, who may find fulfillment in caregiving roles. The author reflects on her own journey from academia to motherhood, emphasizing that the choice to prioritize family is equally valid within feminist discourse.