I remember quite clearly a scene from when I was 10 years old or so and anxious to see a new movie. My mother went out that night with an older cousin of mine, to have a drink, to talk to men, to share jokes. There were no cell phones then and she didn’t call home. So I just kept walking by the window to see if the car had pulled up.
When she did come home I pummeled her with guilt. I didn’t say anything explicitly. I simply pretended to be much sadder and more disappointed than I was or had a right to be. I did so out of selfishness, not out of some deep wound. Even my grandmother who watched me when my mother was away played the role I assigned her. My mother suffered from a deep concern over me and an acute awareness of what she, as a single-working mother, couldn’t provide. I sensed all of this even then, and I used it against her. How dare my mother have a life apart from me, even for one evening.
This scene came back to me as I started reading a few things this morning. Over the weekend, the New York Times unveiled a huge article examining how single motherhood entails tremendous financial struggle and diminished opportunities for children of fatherless homes. It causes and exacerbates America’s growing inequality.
In response, Slate’s Katie Roiphe, asks the Times to stop, just stop.
The [NYT] piece, in tender, gloomy detail, compares the slatternly home of the single mother, all struggle and chaos, to the orderly, promising, more affluent home of her boss, who is married. The moralizing portrait that emerges is not surprising: The single mother and her children have a terrible life, and the married mother and her children have a great one.
Roiphe is exaggerating. (“Slatternly?” Really?) Her response is harsh and nit-picky. It ignores the raft of social science data and indicts the Times for classism and moralism. She pretends that the Times is describing the single-mother as slutty. “The New York Times is recycling truly retrograde and ugly moral judgements,” Roiphe writes. Roiphe asserts the dignity of these homes:
The anxious need to assert that the traditional two-parent family is better has outlived its usefulness. It’s time to run a story about the resourcefulness, energy, and intensity of these homes, a fair, open-minded exploration of these new family structures and the independent, tough women who run them, not yet another unimaginative comparison with a family whose dad takes his son to Boy Scouts. …
Jessica Schairer, the single mother at the center of all this outrageous moralism, put it nicely: “If you are an involved parent, whether there is one of you or two of you, your kids are going to feel like they can do whatever it is they want to do, whether they come from a family with money or a family with not much money.”
I agree with Roiphe to a point, on the dignity of these homes. I also suspect, as she does, that the New York Times noticing this trend is a function of the fact that the social class to whom the Times pitches itself is becoming more self-consciously conservative in their social mores, at least when it comes to parenting. I don’t find this development entirely unwelcome. But, pace Roiphe, the Times’ piece really wrings its hands over “inequality”, not the “slatternly” character of some women.
In any case, I don’t think either the Times in its obsession with socio-economic status, or Roiphe in her rearguard defense of the sexual revolution grasp with the subject at hand. And I can’t pretend to write the whole book on it here, but there are some things only a child of a single-mother could tell you about single motherhood.
I don’t think my behavior that one night was the sole cause, but some time after that my mother really stopped having a life outside the home. She stayed in and conducted no romances of significance. Judging from her diaries and letters, the few men she engaged in even a passing interest were not all that good to her. As a single mother, helping to take care of her parents and her son, she wasn’t in a position to make men be courtly with her. So she stopped trying. That was the sexual revolution for her. Men willing to sleep with her, but not willing to build a family.
By financial and emotional necessity, she became wrapped in a co-dependent relationship with her parents, who relied on her in their last years. And after they died and I became a teenager, our relationship in turn became more co-dependent as well. She tried being my friend as a teenager. But as I went on to college and beyond I was her entire immediate family. And as I was trying to fly the nest, she needed my presence more than I could give it. I thought she might die when I told her I was moving to Washington D.C. and she would have to make do without me, at least during the work-week.
Obviously all the social science the Times presents in its article point to a basic truth: broken homes divide and scatter resources. My father, not a U.S. citizen, sent over some money when I was a child, but it didn’t seem like much. They were never married and eventually he had his own household to look after, so there were no obligations to her specifically. He started sending money to me directly when I was a teenager.
Not having a father around meant I took on more student debt than I would have otherwise. It meant I would be recalled from college to do things around the house on the weekend, or I would come home just to make sure she was alright and make sure she spent time with someone. Instead of her helping me start life financially, I was helping her manage her mortgage payment, or paying for a new water-heater. I was happy to do so when I could. Though I often wondered where her actual inabilities were real, or when they were manufactured (even unconsciously) to bond me with her, even in hardships. In other single-mother households I knew, things functioned much less smoothly.
Helping her meant diminished resources for starting my own family when it came time. It also meant that there was no one else to manage things when she became sick and died last year.
My young childhood and adolescence (maybe my whole life) was wrapped up in searching for substitute father figures: uncles, neighbors, teachers, professors, priests, even God. I know I’m not alone in this. This state of life makes one especially vulnerable to peers and to predators. I survived just fine, others in similar situations don’t.
Did my mother live a life of dignity? Yes, of course. She fought so much for what little she had, and cared for me almost recklessly. I do not blame her for her behavior. Although, I think even Roiphe would have wished for her to have more of a life apart from her child than she did. There was an emptiness in her life as I became more independent. Having lost the social role of mother, she had few other roles to play and took worse and worse care of herself. Discarded by men, unneeded by her son. In mysterious ways, she became more immature as she aged. I’d like to think more innocent too.
I remember telling myself little fantasies as a child and a young man, that my home, peaceful and harmonious if strapped, was probably better than the bickering and arguing and likely divorce that came with having two parents around. As if the only alternative to homes like mine are ones filled with resentment, yelling, and domestic abuse.
Writing checks, delivering take-out dinners, and trying to fit in 20 minutes of quality time with my empty-nester mom shook those fantasies out of me. We told ourselves all sorts of things while I was growing up, but my mother would have been happier, healthier, and more secure with a man to love, and with one who loved her. She would have had more of that if she had more children too.
So do I wish there were more social stigma, the “retrograde and ugly moral judgements” that surround decisions about sex and family? Absolutely. And yes, it would have cost her something if she indeed fell on the wrong side of those taboos. And it would cost me something to be a “bastard” if that word could still wound. People are nasty about social taboos, and I don’t sanction that. But my mother faced plenty of indignities without those moral judgements. If we got do overs, I’d be willing to risk it.
From my perspective the sexual revolution liberated men to abandon the mothers of their children, defining fatherhood down to an alimony payment and maybe state-defined visitation. Women like my mother were expected to raise families entirely on their own emotional and financial resources, however meager. The answers given to the problems that this social revolution caused tend to be curt and unhelpful: contracept better. Or as my mother was ominously told by some upon my conception, “Just take care of it.” Those seem like the “retrograde and ugly” moral sentiments to me.
Just because I turned out fine doesn’t mean that everything is fine.



You know, stepping back a bit from the intricacies of all this there’s just a sort of acceptance (or at least unremarked upon recognition) of what can only be described as the massive guilt of lots of the men involved in these things.
Perhaps in the most minor respect, that is, one can still perceive a sort of disparity whenever hears just of a divorce. The disparity, of course, being in the first thought I think lots of us still have wondering “gee, I wonder what *she* was like to have resulted in this.” At the very least even if not that strong, there’s still a bit of the feeling that really, men are so laid back that so long as the wifey was even reasonably sane or etc. there would be no divorce.
And that’s at the minimal level of disparity. How come, when we assess the child of a divorce, there’s nowhere *near* the kind of unspoken expectation and pressure on the divorced dads to be involved with their kids that this is on their mothers not just to *be* there, but to be doing a great job at it in addition?
For instance, and I’ll admit this might be extreme: How come there’s no at least dubious blinking at the idea of a divorced man with a child or children getting remarried to a woman who also has children that he will be living with?
After all, if the divorced wife *doesn’t* get remarried she’s carrying the vast bulk of the duty on—as JIll I put it—their sole “weary carcass.” (Not to mention voluntarily denying herself the comfort of a companion because one has not appeared who would be good enough for her kids.)
And if the divorced mother *does* get remarried or etc., I think the presumption is that she *has* found someone who would be good for her kids, and that should make us all happy.
But what about the divorced *father* who remarries a woman with her own kids?Or just is out co-habitating or spending lots of time with a woman with her own kids? He’s got time for someone else’s kids but not his own?
Of course the iron law is that any specific situation can defy the generalization. But in my experience it’s not at all an invalid generalization to say that gee, men sure get off easy in this.
And what the hell does this say about *their* fathers? Fathers who don’t raise their sons with the idea that … “you have a child and you’ve made the most profound decision you could possibly make and to *be* a man you damn well better live up to it”?
Indeed, may be the big problem faced by single mothers: How to instill men’s values into their boys without a man around to teach them, hopefully mostly by example? Damn tough.
It’s just grossly unfair when you think about it, and pretty damning of men. But so fucking be it. And if you doubt it, think of seeing a divorced woman with custody of a kid or two out three times at night in one week, and tell me you don’t wonder a bit.
And then consider seeing the father of those same kids out three times a week at the bar or a nightclub or on dates, and how many of us think “how come he isn’t at the very least sitting in front of his kids keeping them company, much less helping with their homework?” (Indeed, lots of the sentiment would admiringly be “that old dog….”)
For my money then it’s *men* and *manhood* that ought to be the focus of the conversation here, and in the public sphere. Because just by talking about the women aspect tends to imply that that’s where the bulk of at least some problem lies, and in general but in light of the general reality that’s just grotesque.