My Worth is not in my Wage

I was cleaning the porch. Then I got thinky. It’s a beautiful Monday morning, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping. I was sweeping, scrubbing, digging, planting - and feeling guilty. Guilty because the work I was doing wasn’t making me any money. Guilty because I wasn’t hustling. Guilty because most people were sitting in offices and I was not. Guilty because my kids were in daycare. Had they been home I would have been guilty that I wasn’t paying them enough attention. Had I been paying attention to them I would have been guilty that I wasn’t working. Had it been the weekend I would have been guilty because we weren’t at the park. All of this guilt stopped me in my metaphorical tracks. So much wasted energy based in the fear that someone else might consider my choices inferior to theirs. My work wasn’t making me any money so it wasn’t real work. If it wasn’t real work it was for my own pleasure and the pursuit of one’s own pleasure is strictly for the weekend, not for Monday morning. Never mind that I was doing it for my family. Never mind that I was making a beautiful space where we could enjoy our summer evenings; never mind that I was planting herbs that I would be using to cook for them all summer long. In my twisted mind the mere fact that I derived pleasure from my labour and that I would benefit from it made it seem selfish.

The reason feminism happened was not so women could work, but because the work they were already doing wasn’t considered as valuable as a man’s. So now women work alongside men, but all of that other work is still there to be done. As an artist, not working in a traditional 9-5, I find myself suddenly in a position where I am hugely privileged, where 50 years ago I would have simply been a working class housewife. So I, and I know many other women find themselves in a position where no matter how much they do, no matter how hard they work, it’s never good enough, because there is always going to be something left undone. This is not the fault of men, nor is it on men's shoulders to change it. It is an illness in society that says work must be unsatisfying, unrelenting and above all, not for yourself.

So I’ve finally decided to put my foot down, to say no to this lineage of guilt so prevalent in the world and certainly in the women in my own family. Saying no to it won’t change the world, but it will change my sense of place in it; and the more that women and men say no to it, the less power we will give to the endless demands of the money machine we all serve. I overheard two men in a café yesterday, discussing whether or not it was possible to be entirely selfless and as I was nearby they asked me my opinion. I told them I didn’t think it really mattered because it was ultimately just a moral-philosophical vortex that offered no real wisdom. Selflessness implies you get no pleasure for something you’ve done. But what is wrong about getting pleasure out of helping someone? Why shouldn’t a hero be proud of his bravery? If both people benefit, then all the better. It means more good feelings in the world, more open and happy hearts. And that is what our world needs more of right now, not more work or more money or more martyrs. So whatever you’re doing, enjoy your day. In fact, enjoy your everyday. Your happiness will take nothing from other people. Instead, it will give them a reason to find their own.