Day 289: The Bitch-Mom Manifesto

It’s Labor Day and I am quiet quitting all unwanted social and emotional labor for myself and for my family. 

Women traditionally have been expected to carry all the social and emotional, as well as practical and logistical, labor within their families: everything from navigating childhood friend-drama to scheduling doctor’s appointments to ensuring everyone is on the right track in every aspect of their lives. Not to mention all the household chores: cleaning, laundry, dishes, cooking, planning, shopping. (Eee! Just writing that makes me feel tired.)

But mommies are also expected to serve as the social conduit for their families, women more generally are expected to carry intense amounts of emotional labor out in the world–whether they are mothers or not–and women of color carry added and intertwined emotional labor as BIPOC people. Mommies are expected to set up the playdates, entertain people, manage schedules, and hang out and chat at the park or wherever one’s children are playing.

Women are expected to be nurturing and enjoy childcare, to engage in emotionally intense, talking-centered, “feminine” activities, and to constantly act as a caring friend and “friendly” casual acquaintance. 

These tasks grease the wheels of shared social interactions and connect one's immediate family unit to other families and the larger community. They also represent an extreme and invisible burden placed squarely on the shoulders of women and moms–especially those of us who are busy (read: all of us) and those of us who are introverted (read: me).  

Well, I have decided to stop doing ALL those things–except those I am truly invested in and excited about. 

I am quiet quitting being nice to people I don’t like. 

I am quiet quitting having extended social interactions with people just so they will like me. 

I am quiet quitting being the keeper of social ties for my family. 

Those of you who know me well may have already sensed that I am ready to make this move: seen me packing up my desk, putting up my out-of-office message, and generally checking out. 

What am I going to do with my newfound freedom, you ask? 

What am I going to do with all of my time now that I am no longer maintaining my family’s social calendar, planning and cooking meals for guests, responding to invitations, attending playdates and birthday parties and making small talk when I would rather be writing or cuddled up on my favorite spot on the couch? 

My answer: any fucking thing I want. 

—-------------------

You see, I think the pandemic broke me. Freed me? Maybe both. 

Two plus years of enforced social distancing gave me total permission, encouragement even, to disengage from casual relationships: chatting, hosting, inviting, responding, et al. And I absolutely reveled in it. 

I got to know myself better–realizing just how introverted I am. Turns out, I would rather (so much rather) spend an entire weekend (or a week? Perhaps even longer?) in silence, alone with my thoughts, then spend a weekend doing, well, just about anything else. 

As such an extreme introvert, being around other people and interacting with them for more than a casual wave and hello significantly saps my energy. In fact, the more distant my connection to those people, the more of my energy it saps, the pattern radiating out in concentric circles, with being by myself and my immediate family at the core (energizing) all the way to interacting with casual acquaintances (which always leaves me drained).  

The pandemic freed me from these casual interactions for nearly two years–and I thrived on that aspect of it. In so many ways, I felt like my best self. I got enough exercise, started this writing project, developed my identity in unexpected ways, and this exciting work continues. 

When I came home from a solo week in the woods in Maine, Jesse was seriously concerned that I would leave him, leave our children, leave our cute cats and our lovely life and run off to the woods to be a writer. 

The thought had definitely crossed my mind. 

One of the things my Year of Writing Dangerously has taught me, what I have observed over the past 289 days, is that both quiet and time are necessary preconditions for my writing. 

My writing flows when all the other voices and noises can be turned off. And the quieter and longer I can get away, the better and more easily my inner self can come out. 

So, as the world has opened up, cutting loose all the bullshit in my life has been the most important thing I do in pursuit of hearing, growing and using my voice. I am affirmatively deciding that bringing my voice fully into fruition is worth way more than all that other nonsense. 

And I am past caring how this seems or what this makes me. 

A recluse? I am super okay with that. In fact, I aspire to that. It sounds glorious. 

Or does it make me something else? A choice b-word that is only ascribed to women? And especially to women who refuse to comply with the established social order? 

Women who have power. 

Women who refuse to play nicely on the playground. 

Because I see now that is what I’m doing. 

At home, in the neighborhood, at work, with my family, I am simply: not playing.

—------------———

Now, this bitch-momminess does come with social costs. 

Walking home after work on a recent Friday night, we ran into multiple families who were all heading to different social gatherings and realized we had not been invited to any of them. 

I felt immediately plagued by guilt–what had I done to cause our family to be left out of all these festivities? Has my (obvious) lack of enthusiasm for socializing cost my children something fundamentally important? If I “played” more nicely with the other mommies, or more fully embraced my “friendly neighbor” role, would we have a busier social life? Are people finally getting the memo that I don’t want to hang out with them, and thus, invitations for the whole family have stopped? 

Notably, Jesse is willing, actually eager, to take on this role of social conduit for our family, to act as our family’s designated friendly person. He finds these casual social interactions energizing and enjoyable, and according to research about male friendships, he needs to have these social connections. However, he is consistently left off the group texts and email chains organized by other moms. He can’t seem to break into the circle of women who do this work for their families, despite efforts and desire to participate. 

For both of us–a shy male extrovert and an outgoing female introvert–our efforts are not accurately acknowledged or understood because they don’t conform to gender norms. The world, including our family, friends and neighbors, holds both of us in this ill-fitting, gendered way. 

Now, I recognize the inherent privilege in my decision to quit this emotional labor. For example, I have kids who are old enough to set up their own playdates, walk themselves to the park or play outside without supervision. Jesse and I already share, in a way that seems equal to both of us, all types of labor within our family, including the emotional and social. 

But I also recognize the privilege of generations of men (including today’s) who have been socially disconnected, reserved, withdrawn, introverted or otherwise uninvolved, without causing their families to suffer any social ramifications. 

Dads have been free to operate this way for, well, ever, and have benefitted immensely from having zero interaction in this social sphere–as it allowed them to focus on other important, money-, power- and prestige-conferring work. 

—————————————

I refuse to give away my power to those with unearned privilege–or the system that empowers them–any longer. I will save my power, my voice, my most valuable resources, my essential self and pour them lovingly, intentionally, into the people and situations I choose. 

And, as a result, I know a lot of people will like me less.

I know exactly what this makes me. 

But the B-word doesn’t scare me anymore. 

If refusing to carry the social ties for my family or the emotional labor assigned to all women makes me a B-word, so be it. 

There’s nothing wrong with me, with who I am, my priorities or where I choose to devote my love and energy. What’s wrong is a world that deems this unacceptable because I am a woman–and a mom. 

The social order that says these things are my job–and simultaneously ignores Jesse’s attempts to undertake these responsibilities–is messed up and doesn’t deserve my time. 

I, and all my fellow moms, should be free to be their inner B-word selves: to save their precious gifts–time, effort, energy and brainspace—for their true loves, whether that be people, jobs, or creative endeavors. 

My children are watching me–with eyes precisely attuned to my stress-level, my positive and not so positive ways of dealing with it, and the balance of joy, duty, effort and obligation in every action I take. They are watching all of us.  

So, let’s teach them by example that the world may try to hold them in a certain way based on how they look. They may be asked to perform their race, gender, class, or sexuality through certain actions. Roles, responsibilities and stereotypes may be thrust at them from all directions. 

But the choice belongs to them.

If hosting dinner parties and hanging out at block parties and having conversations on the street makes you feel awesome, more power to you. 

But if it drains you, let it go. 

You don’t have to be nice, or kind, or helpful. You don’t have to be a good girl. You just have to be. 

The ultimate freedom, the most perfect privilege, is in deciding exactly which roles and responsibilities you want to pick up, which to nurture and hold close, and which to let go. 

I was not born to and I am not by the world given this privilege. 

But I am taking it anyway. 

Because I deserve it. 

We all do.