High Tide in Tucson_ Essays From Now or Never - Barbara Kingsolver [58]
Once you’ve weathered the straits, you get to cross the tricky juncture from casualty to survivor. If you’re on your feet at the end of a year or two, and have begun putting together a happy new existence, those friends who were kind enough to feel sorry for you when you needed it must now accept you back to the ranks of the living. If you’re truly blessed, they will dance at your second wedding. Everybody else, for heaven’s sake, should stop throwing stones.
Arguing about whether nontraditional families deserve pity or tolerance is a little like the medieval debate about left-handedness as a mark of the devil. Divorce, remarriage, single parenthood, gay parents, and blended families simply are. They’re facts of our time. Some of the reasons listed by sociologists for these family reconstructions are: the idea of marriage as a romantic partnership rather than a pragmatic one; a shift in women’s expectations, from servility to self-respect and independence; and longevity (prior to antibiotics no marriage was expected to last many decades—in Colonial days the average couple lived to be married less than twelve years). Add to all this, our growing sense of entitlement to happiness and safety from abuse. Most would agree these are all good things. Yet their result—a culture in which serial monogamy and the consequent reshaping of families are the norm—gets diagnosed as “failing.”
For many of us, once we have put ourselves Humpty-Dumpty-wise back together again, the main problem with our reorganized family is that other people think we have a problem. My daughter tells me the only time she’s uncomfortable about being the child of divorced parents is when her friends say they feel sorry for her. It’s a bizarre sympathy, given that half the kids in her school and nation are in the same boat, pursuing childish happiness with the same energy as their married-parent peers. When anyone asks how she feels about it, she spontaneously lists the benefits: our house is in the country and we have a dog, but she can go to her dad’s neighborhood for the urban thrills of a pool and sidewalks for roller-skating. What’s more, she has three sets of grandparents!
Why is it surprising that a child would revel in a widened family and the right to feel at home in more than one house? Isn’t it the opposite that should worry us—a child with no home at all, or too few resources to feel safe? The child at risk is the one whose parents are too immature themselves to guide wisely; too diminished by poverty to nurture; too far from opportunity to offer hope. The number of children in the U.S. living in poverty at this moment is almost unfathomably large: twenty percent. There are families among us that need help all right, and by no means are they new on the landscape. The rate at which teenage girls had babies in 1957 (ninety-six per thousand) was twice what it is now. That remarkable statistic is ignored by the religious right—probably because the teen birth rate was cut in half mainly by legalized abortion. In fact, the policy gatekeepers who coined the phrase “family values” have steadfastly ignored the desperation of too-small families, and since 1979 have steadily reduced the amount of financial support available to a single parent. But, this camp’s most outspoken attacks seem aimed at the notion of families getting too complex, with add-ons and extras such as a gay parent’s partner, or a remarried mother’s new husband and his children.
To judge a family’s value by its tidy symmetry is to purchase a book for its cover. There’s no moral authority there. The famous family comprised of Dad, Mom, Sis, and Junior living as an isolated economic unit is not built on historical bedrock. In The Way We Never Were, Stephanie Coontz writes, “Whenever people propose that we go back to the traditional family, I always suggest that they pick a ballpark date for the family they have