Last week, I randomly came across a poem on Instagram called “Feral Housewife” by L. E. Bowman. It went like this:
She'll stay home, raise the children, but don't always expect dinner on the table and your house to be clean. She's outside, feet bare, giving what she can give and taking what she needs. All broken edges and dancing light, she doesn't judge the curves of her body; she already knows every inch is a journey, her worth a pool of water in this merciless heat. She's teaching her daughter about reclaiming, rebellion, and paths untaken. She's showing her son that the way it's always been doesn't mean it's the way it should be. Her heart beats with all four chambers; she breathes with both lungs. She isn't trained. She isn't tame. She's free.
I read those words, and just sat. The author said her inspiration came from the meme that says, “The term domestic housewife implies there is a feral housewife and now I have a new life goal.” She also said she was disgusted by Harrison Butker’s “gross comments”, and that “my brand of feminism is having a choice”. I have always thought that meme was funny, and I too think that women should have a choice in what they want to do with their lives. But never have I read such words that so embodied what I want my “housewife” life to look like.
I’ve already shared my story with patriarchy, and that, from the beginning, I always wanted to be “just” a wife and mom. Due to patriarchy’s influence, I had a very clear idea of what that would look like. Though not as extreme as a lot of the “tradwife” movement, it definitely shared many of the same undertones. I would be solely devoted to my husband, my children, and my home, serving endlessly with no thought to myself (cue all the out-of-context Philippians 2:17/ “poured out like a drink offering” articles). I would make sure I always looked nice and put together (and modest!) for my husband, and I wanted to make sure that my appearance never “demeaned the role of the homemaker”. I would teach my daughters to want this, and my sons to look for a wife who wanted this. I had it all figured out.
Then…everything fell apart. And what I thought was my dream looked nothing like my visions. I still wanted to be a wife and mama, and I was doing all the things, but nothing was panning out like “they” had told me (anyone else devour every single article on Ladies Against Feminism?) it would. I was “pouring myself out”…and was left in a puddle on the ground. I was terrified to have needs of my own because I was supposed to be devoted to serving my family. The whole “looking nice” for my husband thing wasn’t working out either (literally!) because six babies in eleven years did a number on my body, and I was so busy caring for my family, I had no time or space to care for my health, and so the pounds piled on.
The breaking wasn’t all at once, but it came in waves. I have a photographic memory, and I distinctly remember sitting in my rocking chair, crying while I looked out at the setting sun, not wanting to keep living if it was going to be like this. I knew I would never take action on that because I wouldn’t do that to my family, but I didn’t know how I could continue. Living how I thought I was supposed to was slowly killing me inside.
There wasn't a specific turning point, just a gradual change. I started standing up for myself more, acknowledging when I was at the end of myself. At first, the asking for help didn't usually end well because my husband had been raised with similar patriarchy-based ideas about my role as a “housewife”, but we were both learning, and very slowly things began to change.
I shared last month about how I’m learning to take time to just sit outside for my physical and mental health. This was a huge shift for me as it was intrinsically tied back to my value as a person. Patriarchy views women as valuable only if they are contributing in their “sphere”. With my previous view of myself as a housewife, something as simple as sitting in the sun and not actively doing something for my family or home meant that I wasn’t valuable. It missed the life-changing concept that I have value because I am a person made in the image of God, and therefore doing something solely for my mental and physical health, and because I enjoy it, was valuable. So the line in the “Feral Housewife” poem of, “She's outside, feet bare, giving what she can give and taking what she needs.” hit me right between the eyes.
I know that most women struggle with body image, but growing up, I was a ballerina, so that added a layer. When I got married, I was literally a size two, and when I had my first baby less than a year later, I was fifty pounds heavier, and that never went away. I had been underweight when I first got pregnant, so some of that weight was needed, but my virginal figure was lost, in every sense of the word. And when I got pregnant again seven months after giving birth (a choice), the weight just started compounding. Breastfeeding for a couple of years with each baby kept the weight from coming off, and it didn't help that there seemed to be no time for exercise if I was constantly caring for my family. Add in the pressure to make sure I didn't “let myself go” for my husband… So with exercise, I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn't. I felt like I was drowning.
The healing from that is also a slow journey. You can't unlearn years of lies in a couple of months. But I'm gradually starting to appreciate all this body has done: it has carried eight babies, and birthed seven of them. It nourished those seven babies from tiny infants to mischievous toddlers. It hasn't had many consecutive nights of unbroken sleep in over fourteen years. “All broken edges and dancing light, she doesn't judge the curves of her body; she already knows every inch is a journey, her worth a pool of water in this merciless heat.”
For most of teen years and early twenties, I wasn't scared of sharing my feelings or opinions. When I was in Bible college, I was well-known to be the girl who discussed/argued all the things. While there was a certain pride in that I needed to lose, the further I was pulled into the patriarchal idea of what I should look like as a housewife, I lost the strength of my voice. My strong opinions and feelings offended people just because of their firmness, and all the negative reactions slowly gas-lit me into thinking I shouldn’t share them anymore.
But, again oh-so-slowly, I began to regain my voice. I started to see that those who didn’t like the strength of my voice felt that way because of something off in them, not in me. A woman who knows what she thinks is not a threat, and is a force to be reckoned with, that can definitely be for the good. A couple of days ago I shared a somewhat controversial post on Instagram, and a friend told me that they “love how you intentionally address elephants in the room”. I thought a lot about that because I used to be ashamed of that tendency, but now I’m embracing it. From racial justice to gender equality to questioning the religious status quo, it’s who I am and what I do and is a strength. It’s what I’m teaching my children, and helping others teach their’s. I’m very open with my children about what we used to believe and practice, and the freedom we’ve now stepped into. “She's teaching her daughter about reclaiming, rebellion, and paths untaken. She's showing her son that the way it's always been doesn't mean it's the way it should be.”
I’ve always loved poetry, so it shouldn’t surprise me that I was affected so deeply by this poem. Though I’ve found other poems throughout the years that spoke fully to my role as a mother, this is the first one that resonated so deeply with me as a woman. I used to think that I shouldn’t embrace myself as a woman once I became a wife and mother. I used to think I needed to be wholly consumed by those roles that I lost any sense of my self. But I don’t think that anymore. Woman, wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend. All of those can co-exist together, none are threatened by another. “Her heart beats with all four chambers; she breathes with both lungs. She isn't trained. She isn't tame. She's free.”
I’m free.
“'And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free…if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.'“ (John 8:32, 36)
“What does it even mean to be a Godly woman?” series