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Where's the Butter?

 Last week, an important feminist died; her name was Linda R. Hirshman.


Hirshman felt annoyed by a certain kind of feminism--a kind that said staying at home is a valid choice. Many of us believe that no one's decision should be scrutinized, in this area; any option is an OK option.

But Hirshman disagreed. She was delightful in her bluntness, her judginess. "Staying at home?" she said. "This is not what Betty Friedan was fighting for. Women need to work. They need to choose top positions in business and law. Perhaps the house will not be clean--but the children will develop robust immune systems."

The NYTimes linked Hirshman with Nora Ephron, who observed that an insidious question, in any household, is: "Where is the butter?" This is a question the husband asks the wife. It has many unstated meanings: "Locate the butter for me. Open the butter packaging. Monitor the amount of butter we have in the house. Purchase new butter when we're running low. Learn to carry the butter in your pocket, at all times, so tomorrow I won't even have to expend the energy of asking for it...."

Hirshman had no patience for people who would say, "Keeping house is A FULL-TIME JOB!" A job, yes, but a stultifying, deadening job--a job that women should avoid. 

Right now, I'm watching "Season Four" of "Parenthood," and I know what is about to happen: Julia Braverman, an apparently brilliant and powerful lawyer, is going to quit her job to care for her new adopted child. This will be presented as a beautiful and ennobling sacrifice. We have already seen Julia miss a full day of work so that she could sit in the school parking lot while her child struggled with fourth grade. It wasn't clear to me why the husband couldn't perform this task. Do you know who had the idea for the network-TV adaptation of "Parenthood"? It was a man.

Around ten days ago, I had a guest over, and we had takeout. Not once, but twice, he turned to me and said, "Your cooking is delicious!" And he chuckled. I thought this bizarre, ambient rage was breathtaking--and I also wondered why my spouse was not included as the butt of the (not-funny) joke.

I'm thinking of Linda Hirshman today. Hats off. Fare thee well.

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