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How Coronavirus Exposes the Great Lie of Modern Motherhood How Coronavirus Exposes the Great Lie of Modern Motherhood
(2 days later)
I couldn’t sleep on the night of March 12. New York City public schools were still open, and many of my peers were choosing to pull their children out. I couldn’t decide whether to keep mine in class. My friends in Hong Kong had been home with their kids for months, but the schools never closed in Singapore.I couldn’t sleep on the night of March 12. New York City public schools were still open, and many of my peers were choosing to pull their children out. I couldn’t decide whether to keep mine in class. My friends in Hong Kong had been home with their kids for months, but the schools never closed in Singapore.
Even though I was speaking to infectious disease pediatricians every day as part of my reporting, there wasn’t consensus among them about how parents should proceed. The local mom message boards were lit up with shaming and countershaming: You’re hysterical for pulling them out! No, you’re crazy for keeping them in!Even though I was speaking to infectious disease pediatricians every day as part of my reporting, there wasn’t consensus among them about how parents should proceed. The local mom message boards were lit up with shaming and countershaming: You’re hysterical for pulling them out! No, you’re crazy for keeping them in!
I was relieved when the city announced schools were shuttering on March 15, so I didn’t have to decide.I was relieved when the city announced schools were shuttering on March 15, so I didn’t have to decide.
Since that night, the other decisions I have made as a mother came rushing back — the ones I have been judged for getting wrong, either overtly or through brightly exclaimed, passive-aggressive jabs like, “Well, whatever works for you!” These are the kinds of choices that as a well-resourced white woman living in a big city, I am supposed to agonize over: Does that chicken really need to be organic? Do all these toys really need to be wooden, even though my toddler likes to use them to bludgeon her sister?Since that night, the other decisions I have made as a mother came rushing back — the ones I have been judged for getting wrong, either overtly or through brightly exclaimed, passive-aggressive jabs like, “Well, whatever works for you!” These are the kinds of choices that as a well-resourced white woman living in a big city, I am supposed to agonize over: Does that chicken really need to be organic? Do all these toys really need to be wooden, even though my toddler likes to use them to bludgeon her sister?
And then there are the more universal choices: Can I send my son to day care if he has a runny nose but no fever, knowing that keeping him home means I have to miss work? How much screen time is too much when there’s no other way to keep my kids calm while I put dinner together?And then there are the more universal choices: Can I send my son to day care if he has a runny nose but no fever, knowing that keeping him home means I have to miss work? How much screen time is too much when there’s no other way to keep my kids calm while I put dinner together?
Even after a massive governmental failure like the water crisis in Flint, Mich., mothers blamed themselves. When LeeAnne Walter, a mom of four turned activist, found out that all of her children had been exposed to lead and that one of her children, whose immune system was compromised, had lead poisoning, her instinct was to castigate herself. “I was hysterical,” Ms. Walters told Mother Jones in 2016. “At first, it was self-blame. And then there’s that anger: How are they letting them do this?” Even after a massive governmental failure like the water crisis in Flint, Mich., mothers blamed themselves. When LeeAnne Walters, a mom of four turned activist, found out that all of her children had been exposed to lead and that one of her children, whose immune system was compromised, had lead poisoning, her instinct was to castigate herself. “I was hysterical,” Ms. Walters told Mother Jones in 2016. “At first, it was self-blame. And then there’s that anger: How are they letting them do this?”
The coronavirus pandemic reminds us that mothers have been unfairly blamed for their children’s illnesses, even in the face of public health crises, for decades. Mothers are held responsible for every detail — large and small — of their children’s well-being. That didn’t happen overnight.The coronavirus pandemic reminds us that mothers have been unfairly blamed for their children’s illnesses, even in the face of public health crises, for decades. Mothers are held responsible for every detail — large and small — of their children’s well-being. That didn’t happen overnight.
Women’s diaries from the pre-Civil War era, when raising children was a much more collective endeavor, tell a different story. Women did not write very much about child care and they did not blame themselves when children got sick, even though epidemics of diphtheria, smallpox, scarlet fever, measles, whooping cough and many other infectious diseases swept through communities without warning. (Almost all the diaries and letters we have from this time are from literate upper-class white women.)Women’s diaries from the pre-Civil War era, when raising children was a much more collective endeavor, tell a different story. Women did not write very much about child care and they did not blame themselves when children got sick, even though epidemics of diphtheria, smallpox, scarlet fever, measles, whooping cough and many other infectious diseases swept through communities without warning. (Almost all the diaries and letters we have from this time are from literate upper-class white women.)
The historians Nancy Schrom Dye and Daniel Blake Smith, in a paper published in 1986 and called “Mother Love and Infant Death, 1750-1920,” pointed out that the household structure in early America was “permeable” — neighbors, friends and relatives all helped with caretaking. Watching over children was not seen as an individual mother’s job. And though the child mortality rate was high, mothers did not feel a sense of personal responsibility for their children’s deaths. They felt it was God’s hand.The historians Nancy Schrom Dye and Daniel Blake Smith, in a paper published in 1986 and called “Mother Love and Infant Death, 1750-1920,” pointed out that the household structure in early America was “permeable” — neighbors, friends and relatives all helped with caretaking. Watching over children was not seen as an individual mother’s job. And though the child mortality rate was high, mothers did not feel a sense of personal responsibility for their children’s deaths. They felt it was God’s hand.
Of course, they grieved for their children deeply, sometimes permanently. But these women also accepted death as part of life, as something ultimately beyond their control. “It may with truth be said the ways of Providence are dark and mysterious far beyond our comprehension,” wrote one Louisiana mother, whose fourth child died after a brief illness in 1836.Of course, they grieved for their children deeply, sometimes permanently. But these women also accepted death as part of life, as something ultimately beyond their control. “It may with truth be said the ways of Providence are dark and mysterious far beyond our comprehension,” wrote one Louisiana mother, whose fourth child died after a brief illness in 1836.
But sometime in the middle of the 19th century, there was a marked change, Ms. Dye and Mr. Smith wrote. “Individual mothers slowly came to replace God as the most important guarantors of their children’s welfare.”But sometime in the middle of the 19th century, there was a marked change, Ms. Dye and Mr. Smith wrote. “Individual mothers slowly came to replace God as the most important guarantors of their children’s welfare.”
This was part of a larger shift in the conception of gender responsibilities in the 1800s, according to Stephanie Coontz, the author of “The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap.” As economic production moved outside homes and into cities and factories, middle- and upper-class women’s sphere of influence became entirely domestic. “Women began to be responsible for making the home a sanctuary,” Ms. Coontz told me. “Morally, emotionally and yes, physically.”This was part of a larger shift in the conception of gender responsibilities in the 1800s, according to Stephanie Coontz, the author of “The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap.” As economic production moved outside homes and into cities and factories, middle- and upper-class women’s sphere of influence became entirely domestic. “Women began to be responsible for making the home a sanctuary,” Ms. Coontz told me. “Morally, emotionally and yes, physically.”
Though much of the American population was still deeply religious, mothers began to blame themselves when their children got sick. One woman, whose toddler died after a short illness thought to be brought on by teething in 1848, was forever “haunted by thoughts of what might have been avoided, the most pitiless of all.” There was nothing that mother could have done with the knowledge she had at the time. And yet she tortured herself for years after her child’s death.Though much of the American population was still deeply religious, mothers began to blame themselves when their children got sick. One woman, whose toddler died after a short illness thought to be brought on by teething in 1848, was forever “haunted by thoughts of what might have been avoided, the most pitiless of all.” There was nothing that mother could have done with the knowledge she had at the time. And yet she tortured herself for years after her child’s death.
In the early 1900s, mothers and activists banded together to pressure doctors, the federal government and public health officials to take action on infant deaths. They were relatively successful: In the 20th century, it became culturally accepted that the state had a role in keeping children healthy. But American society, Dr. Dye and Dr. Smith wrote, “has continued to define mothering almost entirely as an individual, private experience and to assign to individual mothers the primary responsibility for their children’s care and welfare.”In the early 1900s, mothers and activists banded together to pressure doctors, the federal government and public health officials to take action on infant deaths. They were relatively successful: In the 20th century, it became culturally accepted that the state had a role in keeping children healthy. But American society, Dr. Dye and Dr. Smith wrote, “has continued to define mothering almost entirely as an individual, private experience and to assign to individual mothers the primary responsibility for their children’s care and welfare.”
So what can we do? Some things are obvious. Children should be loved, have enough food to eat, clean water to drink and places to play outside; they should be vaccinated, and get enough sleep. Parents should heed public health recommendations about staying inside.So what can we do? Some things are obvious. Children should be loved, have enough food to eat, clean water to drink and places to play outside; they should be vaccinated, and get enough sleep. Parents should heed public health recommendations about staying inside.
If nothing else, the pandemic teaches those privileged enough to worry about the little things the truth: We never had complete control in the first place. We have no way of knowing which of the tiny choices we’re making every day about what kinds of greens to buy and whether the kids watched an hour too much “Paw Patrol” yesterday mean anything in the long run.If nothing else, the pandemic teaches those privileged enough to worry about the little things the truth: We never had complete control in the first place. We have no way of knowing which of the tiny choices we’re making every day about what kinds of greens to buy and whether the kids watched an hour too much “Paw Patrol” yesterday mean anything in the long run.
Instead of worrying about the micro-decisions in our individual well-heeled families, we — dads included — should be putting our energies and efforts into keeping institutions accountable for everyone’s well-being.Instead of worrying about the micro-decisions in our individual well-heeled families, we — dads included — should be putting our energies and efforts into keeping institutions accountable for everyone’s well-being.
To paraphrase that Louisiana mother, the pandemic is dark and mysterious far beyond our comprehension. But it also gives us the opportunity to make lasting moves away from the ethos of individual responsibility for children’s health and toward community support. We should take it.To paraphrase that Louisiana mother, the pandemic is dark and mysterious far beyond our comprehension. But it also gives us the opportunity to make lasting moves away from the ethos of individual responsibility for children’s health and toward community support. We should take it.
Jessica Grose (@JessGrose) is the lead editor of NYT Parenting.Jessica Grose (@JessGrose) is the lead editor of NYT Parenting.
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