Common Women

I've learned to appreciate the women – family, friends, neighbors – that surrounded me when I grew up. There was a time when I confused these women’s values with what they did and how they lived their lives, which was quite different from how I saw myself living my life. I thought they were trapped in their lives and it took me awhile to learn how wrong I was.

Most of these women were farm wives or former farm wives. They worked hard, on the farm or at other jobs while doing all the never ending work of housekeeping and raising and feeding their families. They were honest, friendly, church going and always ready to help out a neighbor. They were what my Grandma Krezek called “common”. She meant it as a compliment. Common folk were those who were genuine, they did not put on airs, you could talk to them on the street, they did their work without complaint -- they were just regular folks.

As I began to discover feminist values and to realize all the ways that women were marginalized in our society and being steered towards certain behaviors and roles, I saw those common women surrounding me as living their lives trapped in society defined “women’s” roles. Nothing screamed that louder to me than big family dinners – Christmas or Thanksgiving – at my Grandma Harvan’s where the women prepared the food, served the food, cleaned up the food, the dishes and the kitchen – before finally being able to join the men in the living room where they were gossiping and playing cards.

I hung around the kitchen where my Mom and Aunts were busy with the final preparations, waiting for them to get to the potato mashing. There was a lot of bustling and chatter-- where is the large platter?, could someone whip cream now?, are there any more pickles to put out? -- but they all worked as a team and they seemed satisfied with what they were doing. My Grandma H’s mashed potatoes were the best, and I tried not to stray from the big aluminum kettle when it came off the stove. I was waiting for the beaters – I loved to lick the freshly mashed potatoes off the beaters. Those potatoes were seasoned with nothing more than salt, pepper, milk and butter – but the milk was whole milk and there was no skimping on the butter – and they were and still are the best mashed potatoes ever. While my cousins might beg to scrape out the frosting bowl, or lick the whipped cream beaters, I as the eldest had dibs on the mashed potatoes.

Everyone always ate too much, which didn’t stop my Aunts, Uncles and cousins from eating plenty of “goodies”. Goodies, in Grandma’s house, were desserts – and they were the crowning glory for the meal. The Aunt’s brought their best holiday desserts to share along with whatever Grandma had made – all homemade from scratch – pies, cookies, cakes and bars. I generally saved room for a second helping of mashed potatoes and skipped the desserts – I was definitely an outlier in my extended family.
I resented being expected to join the women in cleaning up in the kitchen while my boy cousins played in the other room. I also felt bad for Grandma H. who made this huge country styles meal and never sat down to enjoy her own plate of food until everyone else was served and she has asked everyone at least twice if they needed something more. Then, she was always the first up to start clearing and cleaning.

My view has changed. I no longer feel outraged at the apparent sexism in those family meals. I think Grandma, like generations of women before her, took pride in her ability to take whatever was available and turn out fabulously appealing special dinners for her children and grandchildren. As the matriarch for the family, it was not only her responsibility to insure that everyone was well fed, it was an honor to do so. From primitive times forward, being well fed was a sign of success and prosperity. By embracing that responsibility and fulfilling it, without the help of the men, my Grandma and the generations of women before her were proclaiming their role in the successful prosperity of the family. Probably Grandma didn’t think about it a lot, she just did it well and felt pride in the accomplishment. Grandma was a very “common” woman and I honor her for what she did and by doing, for what she taught me.