The mother of invention

Years ago, and well into my seventh month of pregnancy in New York City, it occurred to me one day that, as I would be unable to run from a fast predator, I was lucky not to run into an urban panther. These weekly blogs will consider women's lives from the perspective of one who is now older.

I enjoy solving puzzles. Judging from all the crime solution television shows -- NCIS, Sherlock, CSI, etc. -- I am not alone. We like to follow a trail and make a whole from pieces, from evidence, from clues. I call it making order out of chaos, one of my favorite pastimes.

But there are puzzles that just keep bothering me, the ones in which conventional wisdom is not wise, in which the convention feels wrong. I have long been irked by the condescending phrase “women’s work,” which carries a subtext of insubstantial, not serious, frivolous. It has been applied to any accomplishment in the domestic sphere, traditionally the domain of women.

How did our bunch of primates become civilized? Looking at our early ancestors, which ones would logically have had the greatest stress of survival and therefore the greatest impetus to invent new solutions? It seems to me the physically smaller, the one slowed down by its precious young offspring, would most likely have developed its brain skills, since brawn alone would not suffice. (It still does not.)

For everything living thing on this planet, reproduction and continuation of the species is the ultimate work. Many complex strategies have been developed to this end. I can see the development of language, use of tools, communal aims, growth of ethics and laws -- in short, civilization, the humanization of our species -- as one such strategy.

What exactly has been women’s work? Carrying and nurturing new life, providing food and building a safe home for the young. When did this vital work become trivial? Growing crops and domesticating animals, creating crafts to build clothing and shelter; these all support the protection of children, the continuation of the species. But the demanding work of being a homemaker (the word isn't even in the dictionary) has decreased in status and value, at least in this country, for more than half a century. Why?

We no longer have to pit our minds and muscles against predators. Women no longer have few or no options other than bearing children. Yet for years (rather more than four score and seven) women have been routinely underpaid for their work, even when that work was the equal of a man’s. Women were underpaid in mills, garment factories, and offices for many decades before the Fair Pay Act of 2009 (thank you, Lilly Ledbetter). We can go places and hold jobs our mothers seldom could, but the worth of women’s work -- inside or outside the home -- is not yet recognized as it deserves to be.

Why is this such a difficult puzzle to solve?