Recently I read an article by Lisa Belkin in The New York Times Magazine about women with advanced degrees who had left the rat race permanently to raise their families. My first instinct was to feel envious of them. They had obviously married high-earning partners and could afford to live on only one income. And they had, politely, given it to the man by bowing out of his race.
At the end of the article one of the women answers the rhetorical question, “Why don’t women run the world?”
“In a way,” she said, “we do.”
I wouldn’t disagree, but what about the rest of us working women who are single and childless? We don’t have the contingency plan of raising a family and living our passions rent-free. Even those of us who are open to investing in our careers question whether we want to climb long, steep, career ladders—with noticeable rungs missing for time taken off—that promise nothing except the straight and narrow. Just look at a March, 2004, Business Week cover story on newly appointed Young & Rubicam CEO Ann Fudge. The story is almost entirely devoted to whether or not she will succeed at her post. She has the background and expertise, but she took two years off for personal reasons for Chrissakes! And the corporate world wonders, can she cut it? Is she stable enough to hold down such a position if she can take valuable career-building time for such soft pursuits as personal development?
Of course, Fudge is now more ready than ever to handle the rigors of being CEO, but the story suggests that, to the Corporate Powers that Be, career ladders become wobbly if we don’t continue to climb unquestionably.
These ladders also have a tendency of slowly disintegrating as we get to know ourselves better. By the time many of us get to a point of considerable height, we wonder where that ladder’s gone and we feel the panic of no net, no other options but to simply disappear. Stories of women suddenly departing from positions of power, such as Brenda Barnes of PepsiCola, are treated in the business media as if these women were the Virginia Woolfes or the Edna Pontelliers of the corporate world, sending themselves adrift to drown in obscurity. People are fascinated and suspect a degree of honor in the decision, but also pitying disappointment.
Back when I was in my 20s I lived in a Brooklyn neighborhood teeming with people establishing their careers in the publishing industry. My roommate and I were roughly the same age, and we both agreed that we’d “suck it up” in editorial positions until we got married and had kids, after which we would only do the projects that we wanted to do, working for ourselves, of course.
Our first mistake was assuming that some magical meter ran at the beginning of our careers and that by age 35 we could simply punch out and start really doing our life’s work. My roommate had a rider on her career contingency plan. If she was unmarried and childless by 35, she would adopt or artificially inseminate. After all, she would undoubtedly have the money and the career options to allow for such plans.
My roomie turned 35 last month. Even though she has certainly earned a high-level of respect and accomplishment in her field, she is unmarried, childless, and feels nowhere near even considering jumping ship to start her own enterprise. Even though I’d moved out of our apartment years ago, we’re still very close; I called her up to wish her happy birthday.
“Remember what you said years ago?” I said. “If you didn’t have any kids by age 35…”
“My God, I did say that!” she said, remembering.
“Have you thought about it?”
“You know,” she said. “I’ve learned a very valuable lesson...I make a great aunt.”
I know how she feels. In fact, many of my friends who have made it to their 30s without marrying or mothering have seriously considered the possibility that we’re not Mommy material, whatever that means.
This adds an additional layer of complexity—or guilt—to our choice of leaving the corporate world. We’re not bound to jobs because we need to support our children, and we don’t need to save for their college educations. But now we feel compelled to have something to show for this choice, some great answer to the question, what do you do? Without kids in the picture to mitigate our career aspirations, it sure as hell better be good.
Lovin' it Jor! Keep it coming. It's GREAT! -Joy
Posted by: Joy | September 10, 2004 at 08:18 AM