I am the fourth generation of strong women in my family and I often feel I’m letting down the legacy. Each woman who came before me had to make difficult decisions when presented with very few options. I am not sure I’ve had to do the same. Despite the different paths we have traveled, each of the four women shared a working class upbringing in London. My great-grandmother, Edith, raised five kids through poverty after her husband died. My grandmother, Joan, lived through the London blitz to raise three children. My mother, Diane, worked two jobs to raise my brother and me as a single parent. At 30, with no children, I have yet to define what makes me a strong woman because I have yet to be forced to make difficult choices—it seems as though in my life my hardest decisions have to do with being blessed with a plethora of opportunities.
The eras we were all born in may have affected how we evolved. Edith was born at the end of the 1880s. People often had lots of kids and didn’t get divorced regardless of how bad things got. Joan was raised in the 1900s when the world wars shaped generations of relationships. Diane reaped the benefits of the feminist revolution of the 60s and 70s that allowed women to choose when to call it quits on a marriage. Historical context may explain why Edith stayed with a no-good alcoholic until he died, but it also may explain why Joan will happily celebrate her 66th wedding anniversary this year and why Diane (with equal joy) walked away without seeing her 10th wedding anniversary.
This history left me deeply confused about marriage. At 18 I rushed into a marriage convinced it was a necessity. I needed to prove that my mother was wrong and women were supposed to follow a set path. It was this naïve belief that left me divorced at 22 after I discovered that marriage isn’t something to check off as a life step, but rather, is actually about love. This marriage-and-divorce misstep could have put me off marriage for life. It certainly did with my mother, who has been happy with her singleton status for the last 23 years.
But I jumped back on the bandwagon and remarried when I was a week shy of 24. And now, as I approach my 7th anniversary, I don’t need to prove marriage can be sustained, I just hope that with work, it will.
Of course, my marriage is different than those of women who came before me. My ancestors followed tradition and took care of their husbands, their children, and their households. This may be because each generation appeared to pass on the secrets of domesticity. Well, this certainly didn’t happen with me. I’ve hardly mastered boiling an egg. Similarly, ironing and the washing machine generally overwhelm me. As my biological clock ticks louder, I find myself terrified by the idea of motherhood because if I can’t even do simple domestic tasks, what chance of survival does a baby have? So, I wrestle with whether children are right for me. Whereas Edith, Joan, and Diane didn’t even consider not having children as an option, it’s an acceptable question for me to consider. But this indecisiveness shouldn’t surprise me; I can’t even decide on a career, let alone a lifelong commitment to a mini-me.
This leads to the other role that has changed through generations: the working woman. My great-grandmother was a homemaker until her husband died suddenly. Forced to make ends meet, she rolled up her sleeves and cleaned houses. It was not a glamorous existence. When it came to my grandmother, a war sent women into the working world and she had a knack for office work. (This was one thing that did get passed along. Sadly, so did the entry-level roles all the women in my family got stuck in.) My own mother would often work seven days a week just to keep the roof over our heads. I praise her commitment to staying sane in the face of monotony because after just eleven years of repetitive tasks I have become complacent and am sure I am destined for greater things. After all, women didn’t start feminist revolutions for the right to make photocopies and answer the phone.
I’m from the generation that believes we can have it all. I’m just starting to feel like some of us aren’t sure what “it all” is. My female relatives gained strength through doing what had to be done, but what is stopping me from joining their legacy is that I don’t have to do anything. I can stay married or get divorced. I can have a family or stay childless. I can pick any career path I desire. Choice has crippled me with a weakness my kin would be ashamed of. I would never want to set feminism back and I’m glad to have so many options, but unless I learn to pick a path I will be letting down my female predecessors. And if I ever have a daughter I would want her to know that she has the freedom to achieve strength without (and largely because of) the sacrifice and struggles of her ancestors. I also want her to be able to start a blog post with the line “I am the fifth generation of strong women in my family…”
Ani Kronenberg is still trying to decide what she’s going to be in life. In the process she has uprooted and moved with her husband from England to America in search of inspiration. When she isn’t getting distracted by the latest blockbuster at the movie theater, she eventually writes something. She has a great love of travelling and once combined this with her great love of writing to create the blog www.fiftyfirststates.com. Follow her on Twitter @Ani_bobani.
Photo credit LillianGesla Photography/Flickr.