Symbolic Dimensions of Oppression: A Recipe for Failure (Blog Post #1)

In modern American society, there is a certain archetype which breeds privilege and faces very little oppression: the middle aged, able-bodied, middle-to-upper class white man. The “American Dream” incites imagery of blonde hair, blue eyes, a picket fence, three kids and a golden retriever. John Doe has a wife who breastfeeds her children, cleans the house (unless there is a maid involved), and has a hot meal on the table by five o’clock every evening. The children are star football, soccer, and volleyball players, and maintain high grade point averages because they are nurtured and supported by their family and its entailing privilege. This is your typical image of a “normal” family. This is the American Dream. This is the symbolic dimension of oppression.

 

Patricia Hill Collins, in her essay titled “Toward a New Vision,” defines the symbolic dimension of oppression as “widespread, socially-sanctioned ideologies used to justify relations of domination and subordination,” (1993). Oppression that is perpetuated by symbolism is toxic for a few reasons. First, because imagery is such a powerful tool, the symbolism such as that exhibited above only furthers discrimination towards different groups of people. Symbolic dimensions of oppression directly contribute to the stereotypes we know today. Furthermore, different groups of people experience different types of symbolic prejudice. For example, sexually promiscuous men are idolized by other men while sexually promiscuous women are deemed “sluts,” “whores,” or any other variation of the term. White men are seen as hard workers who contribute to the economy, while Hispanic men working to feed their families are thought of as leeches who are “stealing our jobs,” yet also seen as inherently lazy. Anna Quindlen (2003) brings up an especially worrisome example. She explains a study conducted at Duke University, where women reported that “being ‘cute’ trumps being smart for women in the social environment.” This finding is a testament to how symbolic dimensions of oppression not only affect people’s lives in the public sphere, but also in the private sphere. Stereotypes can, and often do, influence one’s sense of self.

 

One issue with symbolic oppression and stereotypes is that it creates a template into which not every person or group of people is going to fit. Let us revisit the stereotypical portrayal of a (white) woman: passive, nurturing, subordinate and subservient to her husband. The typical “wife” has one job to do: keep her family happy and cared for. And, interestingly enough, this archetype is not only found in America. Take, for example, the Bondo Society in Sierra Leone. Women partake in weeks-long coming-of-age retreats where they undergo female circumcision and are taught by the elders how to maintain a household. Women are inherently expected to be “mother bears,” leaving men little opportunity to fill that role. Consequently, there are no models of men as homemakers.

Before I get into my personal experiences with this subject matter, I would like to remind the reader: I am a young white woman. I write from the perspective of a white woman as this is the basis for all of my life experience; it would be impossible for me to write from any other perspective. That being said, my childhood differs slightly from the typical white-suburban family because of  the symbolic dimensions that were in play. This is not a tale of oppression, but rather an illustration of how these institutions can be toxic.

 

I grew up in what most would perceive as a suburban family in Northern California. My father worked during the day while my mother took care of my two siblings and I. We had what seemed like the typical American upbringing, until my mother decided to reclaim her life and go back to work. By no means did she “give up” her children for a career; she is a chef, so she was able to work nights while my father worked during the day. While this seems like an ideal way to split up responsibility, my father was not prepared in the slightest to be a homemaker or even a part time caretaker. His upbringing had a lot to do with this as well: his mother was truly a stay at home mom while his father was the breadwinner. My father never had an idea of what reversed gender roles looked like. Therefore, when it came time for him to take responsibility for cooking dinner and tending to the children, he was in unfamiliar territory. These dynamics lead to resentment in the household, and to strife within the family. Ultimately, my parents ended up getting a divorce, because the power imbalance was such that my mother could not rely on my father looking after us.

 

This stark divide in parental roles is not completely a matter of lacking the knowledge or role model. I believe the other part of the problem is that, generally speaking, men do not want to play the part of the homemaker. Quindeln also points out in “Still Needing the F Word,” that for decades, women have been trained in hospitality (home economics, nursing, teaching,) while men have been trained in more “masculine” fields (mechanics, medicine, science, and technology) (2003). Years of training men and women to be on different ends of the spectrum have contributed to these symbolic dimensions of oppression.

 

As a young woman, I imagine my future somewhat “typical.” I would like to get married and have children. However, as an aspiring law student, I can not imagine not having a career. No long will women give up their lives in order to raise a child. No longer will women succumb to societal expectations of being a stay at home mother. No longer will women be deemed “monsters” or “heartless” for choosing to have a life. These symbolic dimensions of oppression have limited women for as long as we can remember, and it is time for a redistribution of responsibility. It is time for men to start rooting for women in the workforce, and time for women to reclaim their intellectual and professional lives.