A few weeks ago, I wrote a diary on sexism. In it, I tried to highlight the "pedestal effect" of sexism, which is the notion that women, though oppressed, are actually in a higher and better position than men. I limited that diary to a small selection of 19th century writings that heralded woman's delicate touch on society:
That is, the social contribution of woman was fulfilled by their exercising their tempering effcts on men, particularly business men, who operated in a sphere largely devoid of religious values. In other words, women ought to be excluded from the public sphere because their work in the private sphere is so important.
Although it's wrapped up in the language of choice and privilege, the recent dust-up over the Rosen/Romney affair has brought to the fore the longstanding and deeply held belief that there are two spheres of influence: a public sphere, belonging mainly to men, and a domestic sphere, belonging mainly to women. Ann Romney confirmed the continued relevance of these spheres of influence, and the pedestal effect, when she said
this:
"He listens to a lot of different women," she said. "I will tell you that Mitt said to me more times than you would imagine, Ann, your job is more important than mine." (Emphasis added.)
In that one sentence, Ann Romney gave credence to two centuries of American thought on women: Our value is derived from our acquiescence to the domestic sphere and our pride stems from our private influence on the lives of men.
Catharine Beecher, older sister to Harriet Beecher Stowe, did some important work on behalf of women:
After beginning her teaching career in 1821, Catharine Beecher founded the Hartford Female Seminary, a school geared specifically to provide higher education to women, in 1823. In 1832, she founded the Western Female Institute in Cincinnati, and went on to help found a number of other institutions in the Midwest that gave women access to higher education. In 1852, she established the American Woman's Educational Association to expand the number of teachers in schools on the western frontier.
Miss Beecher was, however, firmly committed to the idea that women belonged in the domestic sphere and, in order to fulfill her proper role, woman should subordinate herself to man. One of her early published works,
A Treatise on Domestic Economy: For the Use of Young Ladies at Home and at School, begins with an extensive quote from Alexis de Toqueville, which
concludes with this:
As for myself, I do not hesitate to avow, that, although the women of the United States are confined within the narrow circle of domestic life, and their situation is, in some respects, one of extreme dependence, I have nowhere seen women occupying a loftier position; and if I were asked, now I am drawing to the close of this work, in which I have spoken of so many important things done by the Americans, to what the singular prosperity and growing strength of that people ought mainly to be attributed, I should reply, -- to the superiority of their women.
From that, Miss Beecher
springboards to the proposition that women are the equals of men, not by force of law, but as a product of cultural norms:
[Women] are made subordinate in station, only where a regard to their best interests demands it, while, as if in compensation for this, by custom and courtesy, they are always treated as superiors.
This is precisely where the Romneys are now. However ignorant of history they likely are, Ann Romney's "choice" could be made at any point in American history, without regard to whether she was relying on legal rights or cultural ideals. And Mitt can praise Ann's work, even holding her up as superior to himself without a moment's thought as to the reason he proclaims her to be superior to himself.
Some decades later, Miss Beecher would use her worldview of woman's proper place as a central justification for opposing woman's suffrage. In Woman's Profession as Mother and Educator; with Views in Opposition to Woman Suffrage, she quotes a letter she recieved:
And yet, held back as I am, and must be, from the life of the street, the caucus, and the primary political meetings, and not more by my incapacity for man's work than by his incapacity for mine -- living chiefly at home, because my work is home work -- what can I know of the fitness of candidates for local offices, or of the machinery of political parties?
That woman's questions are the inevitable consequence of an unchallenged notion of the domestic sphere for women and a public sphere for men.
The separate spheres still invade our culture. Ann Romney demonstrated as much when she gave her husband points for saying that what she does is more important than any of his work. Her shame, like that of Catharine Beecher, lies in the failure to ask a simple question: If it's so important, why is it not within the public sphere?