Justifying My Existence:

The Devaluation of Female Caregivers in America

Last month, I handed in the final rewrites on For the Love of Women: Uprooting and Healing Misogyny in America. Writing this book was, without a doubt, the most challenging professional endeavor I have ever embarked upon. It pushed me as a thinker, writer, and woman of faith. I also walked through the valley of grief as I was creating this work, which shaped the end product and amplified the difficulty.

Since hitting send, I’ve felt unfocused and exhausted. Because my creative reservoir reached drought-like levels, I turned to mundane chores like cleaning the house, purging the pantry, and selling superfluous items in the basement.

Busyness helped the days pass but failed to quiet the deeper existential doubts that bubbled to the surface now that deadlines are not dictating my days. Certainly, some of these feelings are to be expected given the subject matter and the energy that went into this project. Immersing myself in painful stories for eighteen months took a toll on my physical and mental health.

But there’s another factor at play here.

We live in a country that defines success by worldly metrics: how much we earn, the square footage and location of our dwelling place/s, the number of followers across social media, the famous people we know, etc. Though I’ve been working since I was thirteen (earlier if you count babysitting), my life-time earnings are meager. Laughable even. Our home is modest and miles from any waterfront, my social media platforms are negligible, and I never rub shoulder with famous people because I don’t know any. I’ve written three books, but have not received a single royalty check. In other words, if weighed on an American scale, my life barely registers. This is sobering.

Because I’m about the cross the threshold from midlife to senior citizen, it seems like a perfect time for me to reflect on my legacy.

For the most part, I have few regrets. My life has felt deeply meaningful. I’ve followed God’s leading to the best of my ability and devoted forty years primarily to loving and caregiving. I’ve raised three children; cared for my father—and now my mother—at the end of their lives; volunteered in various humanitarian spaces; mentored and supported younger women; and written, taught, and made photos in mostly non-profit settings where the pay is typically substandard or non-existent. All worthy endeavors but none of them result in accolades, recognition, or 401K contributions.

The temptation to judge myself as inadequate came to a head last week when I called Social Security to learn about my options. Suddenly, the reality of how invisible and undervalued female caregivers are snapped into sharp focus.

In terms of compensation and status, caregiving counts for nothing in our culture. Those of us who devote years to raising children and nursing family members receive no paycheck, no sick or vacation days, and lose out on Social Security. Women and men who are employed in daycare, childcare, or as home health aids get paid and therefore pay into Social Security. If we withdraw from the work force or reduce our employment hours to care for children or family members, we not only experience present-tense loss of income, but ensure that our future Social Security benefits will be diminished. When the woman I spoke with told me what I was eligible for, I almost burst into tears.

Caregiving is both essential and grossly undervalued. More than 40 million Americans provide some form of care to elderly family members or friends and approximately sixty percent are women. Women are roughly twice as likely to be the primary caregivers for their children. According to a 2015 study, family caregiving was estimated to be worth $470 billion. Oxfam calculated that if American women “were compensated for their unpaid work with minimum wage, they would have made $1.5 trillion dollars in 2019.” As I write in chapter three of For the Love of Women, “By refusing to acknowledge the importance of or place a dollar amount on women’s work, economists confirmed the prevailing attitude that women’s work carried a diminished value compared to other jobs and roles. By refusing to factor the life-sustaining, caregiving work women do into the Gross Domestic Product calculation (GDP, see below), the government made it official. This is one of the many ways economics and misogyny intersect.”

The Trump administrations’ proposal to offer a $5000 “incentive” to any woman willing to have a baby was not only laughable, it was offensive. The estimate for carrying, birthing, and raising a child until they reach the age of eighteen ranges from $250,000 to 350,000 (not including college and largely dependent upon where one lives). That incentive wouldn’t cover six months.

If, however, the government truly wants to support mothers and caregivers, we need more than sound bites and one-time incentives. The government should cover all pregnancy and delivery costs, expand the tax credits, pay into Social Security on parents’ behalf when they are home with children, and mandate a minimum of six month of paid maternity leave. Most European nations offer this.

Obviously, lack of institutional support isn’t the only way parents and caregivers are devalued. During the years when I was mostly home with our sons, nothing stopped a conversation in a social setting quite as quickly as responding to the question, “What do you do for work?” with, “I’m home with our kids.” Whoever I was speaking with would suddenly get extremely thirsty and need a refill. Few would demonstrate any curiosity about what led me to make these choices or why I loved mothering.

Mothers, fathers, and caregivers fulfill an essential role in our society. We nurture our children, bond with them (allowing them to feel known and loved), provide safe spaces, teach them how to socialize, and impart ethical values. Tragically, this is not acknowledged or esteemed which can leave women like me feeling invisible and diminished.

I’ll find my way through this existential wrestling match regarding my worth. When I quiet the noise, I can stand firm in my choices and don’t need external validation. Loving and caring for others is its own reward—even if our culture doesn’t see it that way.

As always, thanks for reading. I know you have many options regarding how you spend your time. If you appreciated this or other posts, please consider subscribing, sharing, leaving a comment, and taking a second to hit the heart button. It truly helps others find me.

You can learn more about my upcoming book over at Amazon, though I do encourage you to buy from a local bookstore or order from an indy shop like Hearts and Minds.

The gross domestic product is supposed to measure the aggregate or overall economic well-being of a country. The GDP reflects the priorities of capitalism (making money) not the intrinsic value of work, the well-being of the country, or individuals’ overall satisfaction with their lives. This is one of the reasons some economists believe that the GDP is outdated and somewhat irrelevant.

If you really want to nerd out on the history of caregiving, read Katrine Marçal’s book, Who Cooked Adam Smith’s Dinner?: A Story of Women and Economics (Pegasus Books, 2016).

“Caregiver Statistics: Demographics,” Family Caregiver Alliance. I have not watched this yet, but PBS is currently airing a show on Caregiving.