(Warning: Long post, with personal beliefs and a little bit of politics thrown in)
As she so often does, Anjali made me think again, not only through her insightful writing, but also by linking to this article.
It was an interesting article. Essentially, the writer (Hanna Rosin) asserts that the links between breastfeeding and health/nutritional issues are very overrated by society and not supported by sound research (which would be impossible, because you can't randomize groups of women and tell them what they can and cannot feed their babies). Yet, despite these ostensibly weak links between breastfeeding and health, there is tremendous societal pressure to breastfeed. What I found most interesting was Ms. Rosin's assertion that breastfeeding makes the playing field uneven between life partners, because mom becomes the primary caregiver by default. This ties her down to her child unfairly, so perhaps one should just say no to breastfeeding on feminist grounds (her argument, not mine). I'll let you read the rest.
Frankly, feminism has disappointed me over the years. I am "older," and consequently, I remember more of the evolution of feminism than others might, having lived through much of it (though not from its inception -- I'm not that old). I started working at 17, and moved away from home at 18 (two stupid decisions that condemned me to night school for a decade). I remember being sexually harassed at work but also fearing that reporting it would result in my being fired, not the harasser. I remember watching man after man get promoted to high level positions, while women were either ignored or promoted to lesser positions. I saw the equal rights amendment sputter and fail, though if I'm honest with myself, I would not have liked being subject to the draft as a result of its passage. (Selfish, I know, and yes, I realize that there hasn't been a draft for a long time.) The occupational interest assessment that I took as a high school student was nothing more than a tool to push women into more mundane career choices. And all of this occurred in the late 70's and 80's, believe it or not.
My mother's experience was much worse. She talked to me about having to work in the same job for significantly less pay, and
explained that men were simply more valued in her world. They had families to support,
and apparently women worked for the fun of it - and not because they had families to support. She actually made more money than my father did when they first got married, but it was only because her employer gave quarterly bonuses. She downplayed it and hoped that my father didn't do the math. Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn't. I think that he also preferred to believe that he was the main breadwinner. In any event, the disparity didn't go on for very long. I came along two and a half years after they were married. My mother quit working when she was seven months pregnant with me, never to return. Growing up, I remember my mother telling me that it was a man's world, and I would have to learn to live with that.
When I was in my 20's, the feminist message was very appealing to me. For my mom, a woman's place was in the home. For me, a woman's place was anywhere I wanted it to be. Just as the feminist leaders said it should be. I was supposed to be able to choose, unconstrained by traditional gender roles. It was my body, my life. You know, I recently found a letter that I'd penned to my grandmother that really reflected my mindset back then. I wrote that I didn't think that I would ever want to have children, because I didn't think that I would find a man who would share the burden equally. And getting married? Well, didn't a woman need a husband like a fish needed a bicycle? That is what they said, wasn't it?
I was also extremely militant in my 20s. Woe to the person who referred to me as a "girl." How f*cking dare you. That term was explosive to me - males were allowed to grow to become men, but females must be girls, forever child-like, submissive, and repressed by society. My brother referred to me as a feminazi, long before that infamous radio host began using the term. I was completely obnoxious. Don't you dare hold a f*cking door for me, unless you were there first. I am not helpless, and I resent you implying that I am. And by the way, that p*nis? Doesn't give you any special rights, so stop acting like it does. (No, I didn't say that last one out loud, but oh, did I think it.) Men were steeped in "male privilege," and they were seemingly completely oblivious to it, all the while doing everything they possibly could to perpetuate the good old boys network. Deep down, I must admit - I really, really didn't like them very much.
Despite all these newly found "rights" arising from the women's movement (I put that in quotes, because we should have had them in the first place), there still seemed to be a double standard. Being liberated meant that we were entitled to work outside of the home, while continuing to be responsible for everything that went on inside of the home as well. I remember a commercial that pretty much summed it up - "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never, ever let you forget you're a man. 'Cause I'm a wo-man (insert product name here)." Now that was a recipe for unfairness. I get to work, cook, and then somehow find the energy to do the mattress mambo. And I presume also take full responsibility for rearing the children. Check please!
But, as I've moved through life, I've mellowed tremendously. I've found a wonderful man, and we are equal partners. I've gone from being pro-choice to pro-life, and from being for the death penalty to being against it. These and other beliefs keep me from fitting neatly into either major political camp. But, throughout the years, I've consistently believed that a woman's place remains wherever she wants it to be. And I also believe that the women's tent should be large enough for everyone, of all persuasions, of all mindsets, of all political stripes.
Sadly, it seems like only one set of beliefs are identified with what is "feminist" today, and it has become equivalent to a political platform (as was rudely explained to me by an anonymous commenter on another blog). So that a woman, say a working mom with five children, who chose to give birth to child with Downs syndrome, who ran as a conservative in the last election, was an outcast. Not only was she an outcast, it was appalling to hear so many female voices suggest that she should set her aspirations aside for a few years so that she could spend more time raising her children.
Obviously, I am talking about Sarah Palin. Frankly, to say that I was not impressed with her was an understatement, and not for the reasons you might think. It was because I expected her to handle herself better during those initial interviews. I could have given better answers, and I am not a politician. She became the butt of jokes as a result, but the same thing happens to men when they do and say stupid sh*t (Dan Quayle, anyone?). Setting that aside, however, I don't think that she should be thrown out of the tent for holding conservative positions, yet she was anathema to the feminists. Frankly, she is the epitome of having it all - isn't she?
And, during all the politicking last year, while most people were tiptoeing around the race issue, Hillary Clinton was excoriated on the campaign trail. It was OK to yell "iron my shirts" at her. It would not have been OK to yell the racial equivalent at Barack Obama. She was overweight. She wasn't feminine. She's not assertive; she's a b*tch. Blah, blah, blah. The more things change, the more they stay the same. It's still socially acceptable to make derogatory comments about gender, while not about race, though neither should ever be acceptable.
So, what about breastfeeding and feminism (and damn, is she ever going to get to the point)? Well, frankly, I hadn't given the breast versus bottle debate much thought before I got pregnant. My husband and I took a class to help us learn how to care for an infant. Neither of us had ever changed a diaper before my daughter was born, so we really needed the help. The nurse who taught the class told us that if an infant is fed formula, then the bacterial flora (hope I've gotten that right) in the intestines was forever altered in a manner that made the child more susceptible to allergies. Well, those few sentences made me a convert, even though I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't verify that claim. I have had problems with allergies and asthma (due to the allergies) for most of my life, and I was going to do whatever was in my power to keep my baby safe from that. (Avoiding this misery was so important that I also looked for donors with no history of allergies, because DH had them when he was younger, and I didn't to pass on that little genetic gift.)
Breastfeeding was hellish at first. It hurt. It just didn't seem to work for us. And while I was recovering from my C-section, some of the nurses suggested that I supplement with formula. I rejected them. I was resolute. They were evil. They were wrong. We would persevere. And then my daughter didn't gain weight and received a diagnosis of failure to thrive. I felt like a miserable failure as a woman, mentally reducing myself to nothing more than a pair of nonfunctioning ovaries and insufficient breasts - what kind of pathetic excuse for a woman was I? But, I went on a very unforgiving nursing/pumping/resting schedule for a short period of time, and DD started gaining weight. I never had to supplement with formula, and I was proud of that. Breastfeeding was a powerful experience. My daughter thrived, nourished only from my body. And I could comfort her in ways that my husband couldn't. I was woman, hear me roar!
I have to say that even through all of the bad experiences, I didn't feel like I was alone or that I was the primary caregiver. My husband was my biggest cheerleader. He pushed back at the medical establishment when I was so beaten down that I wanted to cower in a corner and cry. He supported my decision not to supplement (frankly, I'm certain that he would have supported me if I'd thrown in the towel as well). My husband found a lactation consultant to help (I had never heard them before that time). He immediately jumped out of bed in the middle of the night to feed my daughter during my resting times by taping a small tube to his finger that was connected to a syringe filled with pumped milk (so that there wouldn't be any nipple confusion). My husband stayed home with me for as long as I wanted him to (I had a six month maternity leave - please don't hate me.) When he returned to work, he brought me whatever I wanted - I ate fried rice to my heart's content. He did all the chores. I pumped after the daytime feeds, so that I could leave the house alone, and my husband took care of our daughter and fed her breast milk from a bottle. We co-slept, so I wasn't up every few hours nursing. For the most part, I drowsily let my daughter latch when she was hungry, and everyone was fairly well rested.
That is our story. I understand that your experience may be different. If we are lucky enough to have another baby, then things could be different for us as well.
I guess I'm wary of making breastfeeding a feminist issue. Because, you know, they sold me a bill of goods. Go out, be a professional, have a career, and the babies will come when you are ready. Except that for many of us, they don't. Fertility starts to decline at the ripe old age of 27, a fact that was never shared, not even by our doctors. And, even though we were told that a woman's place was wherever she wanted it to be, the fact is that women who chose to stay home, or who had different perspectives, were denied admission at the tent doorway. Little by little, the feminist tent has become smaller, populated by those with a certain purity of thought, while the other tent, reserved for those of us who don't share the doctrine in its entirety, has become larger.
I think that if you don't want to breastfeed, for whatever reason, then you shouldn't. You don't need to take shelter in arguments that the research regarding breastfeeding and nutrition is shoddy, or that your time is much more valuable than the cost of a can of formula, or that you don't want to be tied down by by nursing your child. And if, as Ms. Rosin suggests, you are criticized by the other park mommies, then so be it. Put on your big girl panties and live with your choice. And by all means feel free to enjoy the show when the park mommies turn on the mothers who choose to breastfeed for longer than a year, because the truth is they don't like them either. We shouldn't allow ourselves to be defined by men, nor should we allow ourselves to be defined by other holier-than-thou women. And, as my mom would be the first to say, that is not how true friends act.
I'll tell you what - I'll save a place for you, your baby, and your can of Enfamil or nursing bra, right next to me. And we can all get comfy - in the big tent, where most of us live anyway.
