Sophie Lily Weinstein

Suburban Mothers

            A woman sits on a couch and stares into space. Big baby blue almond eyes watch as the sun rises above the evergreens in her backyard. Smoke from a cigarette, slithers upward toward the ceiling till it dispenses into a canopy of fog.  Habit has commanded her to get up with the sun, to make coffee for her husband and breakfast for the children.  Her husband, now semi-retired stock broker, waking later, and takes his time getting ready to leave the house, her children, now in college are far from her motherly grasp.  Her days are filled with boredom and tiresome chorus.  Over the years, her children have become less dependent on her, her heart and soul have sunken, her mind is now restless., the only way she can slow her motor is a prescription for Xanax and a cocktail.  Cocktail hour has started earlier and earlier since her youngest flew from the nest.

            Two houses down, in an impressive red brick mini-mansion, a woman, a mother, sits at her breakfast table, coffee steaming, cigarette burning, in hopes of catching her workaholic husband before he sets of the The City. Her youngest child has started to pull away.  Her role as the soccer mom, carpool captain, drier of tears and defender of the worlds evils are roles that are becoming increasingly obsolete.

            Both women are stay at home mothers in prestigious suburban communities, however the location is irrelevant, whether it be in Texas or New York.  Neither woman has worked in over twenty years.  They have degrees from respected universities, but after so many years of only hanging on the wall, they are now worth less than the parchment they are printed on.  They are lost and lonely, regardless of their close proximity to each other, they are unaware of each others existence.  It has been my experience, and what I believe the experience of my peers from my community, that suburban bound mothers, particularly those of the baby boomer generation, have become trapped by societies expectations of them in the late 20^th centaury and early 21^st centaury. However, this trap extends well beyond town borders and generations and into nationalities and ethnic customs.  The circumstances surrounding their psychological and social confinement has been documented in the canon of feminist literary texts, which reflects tribulations that these women have experienced as mothers.

            The feminist literary interpretation of the, Cambridge Ladies in e.e Cummings poem, “The Cambridge Ladies who live in Furnished Souls” spend their time pursuing trivial matters and live what many would consider a hallow existence.  Although the Cambridge Ladies, was written 84 years ago, the lives and daily routine of both groups of woman are uncomfortably similar.  The poem reveals that the ladies are out of touch with reality and are accepting of the role which society has assigned to them.  “(also,with the church’s protestants blessing)” demonstrates this fact. Protestant is not capitalized, which infers that their religious beliefs are merely a trend to follow. The ladies have never experienced hardship, and are not given a reason to challenge their church or society’s customs.  Likewise, the mothers in question, fulfill the role that society has given them with little reason to look outside of their homes or respective communities for fulfillment. Cummings describes the ladies as “ladies who live in furnished souls and are unbeautiful”.  They are unbeautiful because they lack any unique characteristic and developing those characteristic is put to the wayside. Furnished, is used to describe them because, they have been ornamented by expected traits and beliefs. Further, as traditional Protestant women they are confided to the household and the needs oft heir children and husbands. Protestant, can be replaced any number of religions or customs. The only noticeable difference between the Cambridge Ladies, and the suburban mother, is that the ladies have a social network.  However shallow this network may in fact be, it did provide some means of support that is not as readily available to the modern Cambridge Lady.

            Social networking, for many women in suburbia, is an extension of their children’s academic and social lives. PTA, sports teams and car-pooling, give these woman an opportunity to meet each other and develop friendships.  Once their children grow to a certain age, their involvement is less needed.  Communication, and reasons to get together is also lessened. The result is, that friendships become strained, and isolation becomes inevitable, especially since the relationships depended on their childrenin the first place. The Cambridge Ladies, though not technically isolated, do not have sincere relationships either. The substances of their friendships are superficial, they formulate their identities through others. “they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead”.  The women, follow these men because they are safe, and non-threatening, to their societal structure.  This lack of identify, is illustrated several times through out the poem. The women are referred to by a universal name, “The Cambridge Ladies”, rather than giving them individual names.  In the eighth line “delighted fingers knitting for the Poles, is it” is meant to be ironic.  If the ladies were truly interested why they were knitting, probably a war, or some other atrocity, they would feel the furthest thing from delighted or comfortable. Volunteerism, in our media saturated world, is used propel personal gains, rather then those at the receiving end. The ladies use volunteerism in a similar manner. “While Permanent faces coyly bandy scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D” continues with the theme of self motivated social maneuvering. Gossip detracts the attention from themselves, and onto others. However in observing the women around me, some social contact, is better then nun at all.

            The Ramifications of isolation, on a woman’s psyche, can hardly be disputed.  The sole purpose of these cultural institutions, which have been carved out for women, is to fulfill the role of wife and mother, with little flexibility for alternatives. These institutions, in my opinion, should be blamed for the psychological and emotion distress that so many mothers experience. Alcoholism, prescription drug abuse and depression have become a chronic epidemic in my hometown.

The Yellow Wallpaper, written in 1899 by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, “tells the story of a women’s decent into madness, following the birth of her child, at the hands of her well-meaning, but wholly restrictive husband.”  The circumstances that surround the narrator’s psychosis are just as prevalent today, as they were 108 years ago.  Not having a creative outlet, occupational superiority of husbands, being prevented from making even simple decisions, and having a controlled social life, are all contributing factors in her fragile mental state.

            The confinement the narrator experiences in her marriage and society is made clear in the first few lines of the story when she says “John laughs at me, but one expects that in a marriage.”  This discrepancy in the balance of power, and lack of respect John has for the narrator is eluded to further in the story when she says “I meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, and here I am a comparative burden already”.   The disappointment and guilt the narrator carries, is echoed through feminist literary texts.  The expression, once the honeymoon is over, bares the truth, of a sad reality for many. John’s distain for the narrator’s desire to write and to expressive herself, is the primary cause in the story for her “nervous depression”.   John’s recommendation, as a doctor, is that she rest and not “work” at all. However, the narrator has an entirely different view on the subject then her physician-husband’s prescription for wellness.  But she fears heavy opposition if she were to assert herself, and  do as she pleases and writes.  Her stifled creativity forces her into a position of a domesticated powerless wife. 

The superiority that John has over his wife and her condition dictates her every move. “ He is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without special direction. I have a scheduled prescription for each hour of the day; he takes all care from me, and so I feel basely ungrateful not to value it more.” How is one to argue with a doctor especially when the doctor is your husband, “I am a doctor, dear, and I know”.

Her dependence on him is absolute, and her married life becomes entangle with the decision making power of her husband over her medical needs. She is then prevented from making decision in other aspects of their marriage. For example, when she wishes to move to a different bedroom, he dismisses her. “ Then let us go downstairs…there are such pretty rooms there.  Then he took me into his arms and called me a blessed little goose and said he would go down to the cellar, If I wished, and have it whitewashed into the bargain”.

Her inability to make her own decisions about her medical needs, and even smaller details, like which bedroom to sleep in, extends into her social life. When the narrator asks to visit relatives, John once again dismisses her. “I wish he would let me go and make a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia. But he said I wasn’t able to go, not be able to stand it after I got there”.

The social contacts she does have are the product of John control and her role as a mother. She cannot visit whom she chooses or when.  Her nanny, who is the primary caregiver to her baby, and her housekeep, John’s Sister, Jennie make up her social circle. Both women are complacent, and no not struggle with their submissive roles. They are happy taking care of the man of the house and the home he occupies. Neither, struggle against their position in life, nor seek a greater purpose, just at the Cambridge Ladies did not seek one either.

The reason for The Cambridge Ladies and the characters in The Yellow Wallpaper except their submissive roles is the same reason why suburban mothers become trapped in a metaphoric bubble.  The once upon a time, and they lived happily ever after, fairy tale, has been brainwashing, and destroying the lives of hundreds years. Grow up, find a man to take care of you, have his children, and twiddle your thumbs till they fall off.  It is this attitude, which has kept women at home, in abusive relationships, and for many, without hope. Woman Hollering Creek, by Sandra Cisneros, the main character Cleofilas, believes that love, life, and marriage, is the way she sees it on television. When she does get married, the reality is starkly different from how she envisioned it. Her husband is neglectful and abusive. She relies on him for money, and money equates to freedom. Although she does leave her husband, she returns to her father’s home, to once again, take care of a man, rather than taking care of herself. However, in a pivotal moment, at the end of the story, Cleofilas, does realize there are alternatives, when meeting Felice, even if she chooses or is unable to realize them for her herself. “Everything about this woman, this Felice, amazed Cleofilas.  The fact that she drove a pickup truck…..The pickup was hers. She herself had chosen it.  She herself was paying for it.”

Woman Hollering Creek, was written in 1991. It does exemplify progress that women have made in the 21^st centaury, but I feel that by and large women are still trapped and confined to the prison of domestic servitude.  I was shocked when my suitemates dismissed the idea of excelling in school beyond the necessary, because her boyfriend, was going to be making all the money anyway. She is 19. I lost all respect for her, and I have not attempted to have an in depth conversation with her since. As it is I can barley look her in the eyes.

 A conversation that I had with my mother, maybe three years ago, firmly shaped by beliefs on marriage and my deep mistrust in men. It went as followed:  “If I had only know, but how could I have.  I was raised not to open mail that was not addressed to me.  It never occurred to me that we were so deeply in debt.  I assumed when we got married we would make decisions together.  It took me years to get him to open a joint checking account.  I did try, but every time I tried to bring it up, he would threaten me with divorce.”

The idea of being legally contracted to another human being, rattles me to the core. In any other kind of merger, contracts go up for review, but not marriage. I was only recently that divorce was not considered social suicide for a woman, which was compacted by the fact that the courts favored the husband. What isolation really amounts to is a lack of control. My own mother’s truly did want to be a stay at home mother, but she also wanted to be an equal to my father. But was, and is, prevented from doing so. I believe it is my duty to myself, my future daughter, my terribly misguide suitemate, and all the women in my life to maintain my independence at all cost.  I will not allow others to define who I am or fall in the gender trap, as my foremothers did.

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