As a long-time single mother (13 years before I got married last fall), I have thought a lot about single motherhood and its impact on the culture. It’s a difficult subject to talk about, because there are a lot of assumptions floating around out there, and it seems like everyone has an opinion they are more interested in voicing than in hearing another’s. And then there are the kids, kids who resent not having a father, like Obama clearly did in his book Dreams from My Father. And there are a lot of them now.
We could have this discussion using statistics, but I don’t think that would provide you with the real picture, since statistics are often misleading. For instance, according to the U. S. Census Bureau, single parent households accounted for 5% of all families in 1970. By 1996, we were up to 9%. Of course, those numbers are misleading, because the population has increased from 203 million Americans to over 300 million today. 9% of the latter is significantly higher than 9% of the former.
No, I think we’re going to have to rely on personal experience and visual evidence obvious to anyone willing to take a look around. Something is happening (and has been happening for some time) in America that is directly correlated with single motherhood. It has to do with race and the increase in biracial children. To give you a taste, let me tell you my personal story.
My sister is five years older than me. She is my mother’s first child and herself the product of a single parent home for much of her childhood (We’ll call her “T”). She was born “out-of-wedlock” as they like to say, a term they used to replace “bastard” in the 1960s. My Mom was born right before the baby boom hit, so she was a bit early in trending away from marriage in 1964. Well, more accurately, my sister’s father was ahead in trending away from marriage. My Mom, I believe, would have married him in a heartbeat.
My Mom raised my sister by herself, with assistance from her family, until “T” was 5, and my Mom met my Dad. They got married upon learning they were pregnant with me. My father adopted my sister. My brother followed a year later and completed our family. Ten years later, when “T” was 15 and I was 10, my parents divorced, and life got a little crazy for us for a while. My Mom went back to school to become a nurse, and we moved into the housing projects at 13th and Hill in Louisville, KY. We spend three informative years as minority whites there.
Skipping right through, my sister had a baby by the time she was 17. My Mother, driven by her own shame at having a child outside of marriage, signed for my sister to marry before she was 18. That marriage did not last, of course, and a mere year and a half later she had another baby by another man, even though she was, and still is to this day (20-some-odd years later), married to her first husband. Both of those children were white.
Another two years passed, and my sister was pregnant again. This time she warned my Mom and my Grandmother that she did not know who the father was, and that the child could be biracial. We would just have to wait and see.
I should give you a little back-story on my Grandmother here. She raised 8 kids, had her first one die when he was just 2 years old, was married thrice, and was, as were many of her generation and culture, as racist as July days are long. She was born and raised in Barren County, KY, one of 12 children, and one half a set of twins.
A female business owner (before such a thing was common) for most of her adult life, I have many reasons to respect her now, but back then I was a 16 year old who’d been politically radicalized early by my life experiences. And I and that little gray-haired old lady had it out over those 8 months or so. She expressed her hurt over my sister’s unknown pregnancy many times before my niece was born, and we had a fight every time she did so. When my sister finally went to the hospital to give birth, it was my grandmother that picked me up from my school and took me to see “T” and the new baby.
I don’t know if you are aware, but it is not always obvious what the race of a newborn is, especially biracial children. “N,” my niece, was no exception. She had a slight “tint” to her skin, but so did my sister, who tanned much easier than I did with my Dutch-Irish-Germanic roots. My sister knew, though, as soon as she saw her that she was biracial, and told my mother, who dutifully reported it to my Grandmother.
My Grandmother railed and railed and railed in that car on the drive. She was so angry. I grew angrier listening to her. When we arrived at the hospital and she went to grab for the door handle, I quickly and quietly pushed the button for the automatic locks on her white Thunderbird and locked us in. Then I lit into her.
“It’s a child, Grandma, a child,” I told her. “Nothing more.” So what if she hated black people, I told her. That was just a by-product of how she was raised and all she’d ever known. The world was changing, and she’d better catch up before she was left behind, old and bitter and alienated because of her prejudice. She cried, and stayed mad. I cried too, more out of frustration, and we finally went up to see my sister and the new baby. Had I known what would happen next, I wouldn’t have bothered with the argument in the car.
My Grandmother walked into the room as if a broom were stuck straight up her ass, she was so tense. She glared at my sister and my mother both. And then her eyes fell upon that babe. That sweet, precious, beautiful, still-blue-eyed baby. I wish I could describe how her face changed, how the wrinkles upon it seemed to re-align themselves into an expression I had never seen on her before. She gave in, completely and utterly, in the face of that child. Every shred of prejudice she had ever had fell away in that moment and it never returned. Never. My Mother, who was also prejudiced, but to a lesser extent, was equally changed. “Buddha Baby,” as I called her, for her fat, round, brown belly and her white diapered get-up, became a beloved member of our family, and in the process, eradicated racism within it.
This scenario has been repeated hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of times across this great land since the 1960s. One of my best friends has a similar story with her father and her biracial daughter, now 17 years old. When my friend gave birth to her daughter, her father disowned her, and refused to speak to her for over a year, even while she and the baby lived with them. But as that baby grew, her father’s heart had to give way in the face of such innocence, and to this day he is one of the most vocal supporters of Civil Rights that I personally know.
A similar scenario happened with Stanley Ann Dunham and her parents, I’m sure. No matter how enlightened they were, 1961 was still at the beginning of this curve, and biracial children were rare. And Stanley Ann was young, 18 years old recall. There should be no doubt that they became more enlightened as a result of Barack being born into their family. The thought that I alluded to last night, that I have been thinking about for years, but which crystallized as I read Dream From My Father is that no one that I can see is discussing this dynamic. It’s America’s dirty little secret, because of a lot of these children are born “out-of-wedlock,” to young, single mothers, but it’s had an impact, maybe more of an impact than the targeted enculturation processes inserted into the education system.
Why, I want to know, aren’t these women being heralded as healers? Why are they still vilified because of the nature of their marital status at the time their children are born? It’s not women’s fault that men are less interested in marriage these days than they used to be. (If you have any doubt about that, or think I’m making an assumption, check this out.) Why all this demonizing women and chasing after fathers who clearly don’t give a damn, as in the case of Obama’s father? Why didn’t he write a book about his mother’s great sacrifices and the dreams she gave up because she was the only parent willing to do the work of raising him?
Instead, Obama, like so many others in our culture, paid little attention at all to Stanley Ann’s contributions and sacrifices, or his Grandmother’s for that matter, choosing instead to focus on his obviously lazy grandfather and his absentee father, while the women toiled to support them all. Do you need any more evidence to know exactly how misogynistic Obama, and the culture at large, are? When will we give these women credit for what they have wrought, with their loose morals (according to CW) and willingness to buck tradition? They should be rewarded for their tirelessness day in and day out, for raising little American citizens without physical support or even basic kindness; because their choices are judged by a society whose greatest priority is monetary enrichment, rather than family life. These women aren’t the ones who are out of touch—our leaders, so-called experts, and anyone else who judges them are.
July 26, 2008 at 10:37 am
I couldn’t agree more. I was really disgusted with Obama’s speech on father’s day. You would think that getting a father in the home would be the solution to all the world’s problems. When, in fact, the solution to many problems is getting him out! And, I have thought from the beginning that his ode to his father was a little misplaced, given who really raised him.
My husband and I divorced when my children were 9 and 12. Before the divorce I was mother, wife, and only provider. Life was getting to be too much and when I assessed the situation, I saw that the only “job” I could quit was that of wife. I had always accepted the notion that a two-parent family was the ideal one and that parents should stay together for the sake of the children. However, my then-husband was an alcoholic and tended to get unreasonable and angry and on the verge of violence when he had too much to drink — and he took it out on both me and the kids. So, I decided to cut my losses and get a divorce. Our homelife improved dramatically. No more black cloud handing over us all the time. My younger son when asked by his school if he wanted to join a therapy group of children from broken homes replied that his home was “fixed” not broken.
I have never seen the benefit of forcing unwilling men to remain in a home where they can do so much damage and make life so miserable for everyone involved. The real solution to the “single parent problem” is to provide women with access to good education, good childcare and good jobs.
And, these are some figures from the 2000 census:
Of the 34.6 million households with children under age 18:
72% were headed by married couples.
28% of households with children under age 18 were headed by a single parent.
These single parent households broke down as follows:
77.6% were headed by a female parent
22.4% were headed by a male parent
These numbers mean that, in 2000:
More than 1 in 4 families with children under age 18 were headed by a single parent.
More than 3 out of 4 single parent families were headed by a Mom.
July 26, 2008 at 10:47 am
Fantastic comment, Elle. I love the “fixed” part. That is beautiful. And it let’s you know you did the right thing. Thanks for sharing your story. My dad was a violent alcoholic, which is why my Mom left him. It’s a shame it took her 10 years to work up the courage, but she did the best she could to protect us while she was in the marriage, and she really kicked it into high gear and accomplished a lot after she left him. I consider her a role model to this day.
July 26, 2008 at 1:09 pm
Well, this was worth the wait. Beautifully expressed and felt.
Single mothers are heros, not lazy welfare queens driving Cadillacs. The day we start recognizing and honoring the real contributions of women in our society – such as having the courage to raise children on their own – is the day that sexism will begin to die.
And I also believe that in another generation or two, there will be so many children of mixed-race that racism will also be on its way out.
I just hope the human race can survive long enough for these things to happen.
July 26, 2008 at 11:12 pm
Annabelle- You’ve got mail
Great article- I had a child when I was very young- details not important- but with a lot of help from my family he turned out well- career military- hence my ‘other’ identity!
July 27, 2008 at 1:09 am
Hear, hear Annabelle! My brother and I were raised by my mother after my father left when I was two and my brother a mere six months. He remarried and has stayed married to her to this day, nearly fifty years, so something “took” the second time and I’ll give him that. What I won’t give him is any credit for raising me. My mother did that, period, end of discussion.
I married and had a daughter at 26. For all intents and purposes I was a single mom from day one as he really never seemed particularly ‘in love’ with her and seemed to regard her as an interloper in the marriage. So, I raised her alone even though he still lived under the same roof, and it took us five more years to finally physically separate and divorce. And thank goodness we did. His physical absence was bad enough, but I can’t begin to imagine the psychological damage having a father as distant as he was living under our roof.
My daughter’s father has been nearly completely absent from her life, popping up here and there. The last time we laid eyes on him was at her high school graduation seven years ago. The last time she’d seen him before that was six years earlier.
And you know what? She’s a fine, upstanding, generous, caring adult. And dammit, I take credit for it. He provided the sperm. That is all.
I agree that society’s emphasis that a family is not complete if a father is not present is just so much horseshit. The problem is, kids with absent fathers (like me and my kid) internalize that somehow ‘we’ are not fine as we are, hence we fantasize about our absent fathers and create stories we tell to ourselves and others that “explain” the absence, and these tales nearly always entail some “if only” scenarios. I wonder what Barack’s “if only” was. I suspect his “if only” held a lot of blame for his mother.
July 27, 2008 at 1:11 am
I also second Elle’s “fixed” comment. Once her father was gone from the house it felt like I could breathe again.
July 27, 2008 at 10:39 am
Thanks for the comments folks. Outstanding, and I appreciate that this speaks to people on a personal level. It perculated a long time before coming out, and the whole subject is worth a series, for sure. (I’ll consider it).
That said, Joseph over at Cannonfire has picked up this essay and is having a discussion over at his blog about it. He also shares some personal details, which are fascinating, and another POV. I responded to one of his comments over there, and thought I’d copy and paste it here, because it articulates what I’m trying to say at the end better:
July 27, 2008 at 12:33 pm
Only slightly OT, raising a child as a single parent is not the only option. I surrendered my first-born in 1966, at a time when I was incapable of raising her. Since I did not believe it was my (dysfunctional) family’s obligation to do so either, she was adopted privately.
Those records are still sealed, forty-two years later. I have no idea where she is, what happened to her or even if she is still alive.
She, on the other hand, hasn’t a clue about her family background or medical history. She has no idea that I’ve tried for years to find her.
No, I don’t want to be her mom. She has a mother. I just want to know that she made it.
Mose adoption laws are structured to ensure privacy at all costs, in the process making the mother feel dirty and worthless. Even some states which have reformed their adoption laws still leave the iron-clad secrecy intact for old adoptions.
And the baby’s father? I never saw him again after I told him I was pregnant.
“Dreams From My Father”?!? Some father…a drunken polygamist. Great role model.
July 27, 2008 at 7:23 pm
Listening to NPR about 6 weeks ago, what sounded like the voice of an older, black, southern female came on the line. “That Obama, why’s he writing all those books about his father? That man up and left him… Why doesn’t he write about his mother and her family — those were the ones that raised him!”
That call was a breath of fresh air coming in mid-June. (We all know whose political aspirations were assassinated in June).
July 28, 2008 at 3:22 am
creeper
it is possible to find your adopted out child. there are many adoption search angels who are quite skilled at finding these children. look here:
http://www.the-seeker.com/angels.htm
i lost my oldest to a forced adoption when i was 18, in 1968. i agree that the records absolutely need to be opened for a myriad of reasons.
god speed
July 28, 2008 at 10:34 am
Wow, powerful testimony, creeper and nobozo! I had no idea there were forced adoptions, but I guess it makes sense given the time. out-of-wedlock births were just beginning to occur in significant numbers thanks to boomers bucking old, stale moral trends, and their parents mostly fought them tooth and nail over their differences. I’ll have to investigate this dynamic more in the future.
Thanks for the comment, JSF. I wish I’d been listening! I think that’s actually why so many black women supported Hillary until just before SC, just before Obama began harping on deadbeat black dads and his campaign started accusing the Clintons of racism. It was a double whammy.
July 28, 2008 at 1:47 pm
A very touching post, powerful!
July 28, 2008 at 4:39 pm
annabellep..Thank you for your kind comment the other day.
Your testimony is a perfect example of the life lessons forged and put into action. I think testimonies are another kind of curriculum vitae; their writing helps us to focus our own objectives. Yours does far more and presents the one of the strengths of the Just Say No coalition. Women must make herstories. If we don’t write about ourselves, what we think, and what we did, it will never be recorded.
If you never got a chance to read Spengler’s “Obama’s Women Reveal His Secret” I urge that you do, because I think the article elucidates the depth of the problem in understanding. Is an 18 year old woman is embarked on a path of self hate and, to use the Victorian word, “dissipation”, or a desire to test who she is, and simply explore what is new, and in doing so, start a journey different from her peers? Of course, if women had only been men, and joined the Merchant Marines to see the world, no doubt our viewpoint would be different.
http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Front_Page/JB26Aa01.html
Is a woman, with her own presence, who clearly understands her neighborhood better then her husband, the perpetrator of the narcissist’s dance, the victim, or some combination of both? Whatever it is, she is right to feel rage. Even if some us don’t agree with her behavior thus far, the attempt to put her in pillbox hats and reduce her to the Queen’s wave is duct taping the mouth of the scapegoat. She has said and supported no more than he.
Obama is his own creation. Yes, he took the clay from all the disparate parts of his history, but he molded it himself. Your comments about the dynamic of biracial children as instruments of enlightenment, single parent families and I think, your implication of the next year’s messaging we might expect, if we don’t alter it, is spot on!
July 28, 2008 at 7:20 pm
AnnabelleP
Thanks for your kind reply. I began to compose a response, but it quickly became a 50 pound dissertation on the history of coerced, forced, and otherwise illegal adoptions during the Baby Scoop Era.
Yes, there are adoptions that were forced. They were the result of several social forces converging at once post WWII
If you are really interested you can read the post here:
http://babyscoopera.blogspot.com/2008/07/on-being-flat-out-wrong-brief-history.html
Honestly, I did not set out to pimp my blog.
Hope you can forgive me
Anyway, you can read the post.
Or not.
Cheers!
July 28, 2008 at 7:34 pm
Oh, I’ll definitely be checking that out Nobozo. And you are free to pimp your blog anytime here. I sometimes surf comments just to find the links that people put in them. It’s my all who wander are not lost way.
I love that so many people have shared personal stories as a result of this post.
July 28, 2008 at 8:29 pm
Oy yoy yoy, Annabelle
If I thought anyone was going to actually read the entry, i would have edited it for typos.
There were about a million of them. I’m a terrible typist.
All better now ( I think, lol)
I appreciate the freedom you give people to pimp their stuff. It’s amazing how much good info there is to be had on blogs.
It’s good to know that I am not lost, btw!
July 28, 2008 at 10:29 pm
I left a message for you over at your place, Nobozo. Your post turned out to provoke a very moving discussion with my Mom over her near-surrender of my sister, the one discussed here. I was utterly unaware. I encourage anyone reading these comments to visit your blog and catch up ASAP.
July 29, 2008 at 3:13 pm
Thanks for the shoutout Annabelle. How wonderful that a new door has opened between you and your mother! I know that when my grown daughters see me as a woman and not as a mom, it’s a deep experience for me.
As I wrote over there, moms are marginalized in so many ways.
1) Women are considered to be less valuable human beings then men, all the way around.
2) Moms are blamed for so many of society’s ills…So many problems later in life are pinned on poor mothering instead of any number of other etiologies.
3) Single moms REALLY bear the brunt of it.
4) Single moms in the 60s were the lowest of the lowest of the low.
Talk about polymarginalized.
All I can say is your Mom must be a very strong woman.