HOME IS WHERE THE HUSBAND IS
I want to be the trophy spouse of a rich wife , says Yolisa Mkele
Patriarchy is like Bruce Willis in Die Hard — bloody difficult to kill. No matter what plot is cooked up, the bastard seems to rise from the dead. That said, he’s definitely been weakened. Over the past few decades we’ve eroded some of his power and made it harder for him to channel his inner pervert. So it’s a good time to attack a big source of his power — gender roles. Sure, the idea of “wife” as a shoeless sex nanny maintained by an industrious husband is in its death throes, but gender roles are still pretty imbalanced. Generally, it’s women in heterosexual relationships who do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to child care and household chores. Mostly men still expect to be the
“head of the house”. When their partners begin out-earning them, their boxer briefs get a bit tangled. Well, I say dismantling patriarchy starts at home, in particular with an increase in the number of house husbands. Vive la revolution! Viva househusbands!
While not new, the idea of a house husband who stays home to look after the kids and solve home-maintenance issues hasn’t gained much in popularity. There’s a good chance that if a pretty young man met a handsome lady at a bar and told her that his ambitions involved staying at home to care for the family while she goes bacon hunting, his night would end disappointingly. Why? What’s so bad about being a stay-at-home spouse? Patriarchy, that’s what!
Patriarchy has created certain negative stereotypes about women and is also responsible for the idea that men who are more interested in being at home with their families are weak and slovenly. Men are also often portrayed as well meaning but bumbling idiots in the child- and home-care departments. Sure, it’s great to have their support, but few people see dads as having the organisational capacity to herd children or make sure the contents of the fridge fit everyone’s dietary requirements. Patriarchy has turned men into helicopter parents who pop in as needed before jetting back to some high-powered office job where his secretary and her pencil skirt are waiting.
To counter this a lot of people have suggested sharing household duties between both parties but that situation often starts off well and then descends into a 65/35 home-labour split. Plus, a lot of parents want at least one of them around for their kids. It seems neither can live while the other survives.
Working women are often faced with figuring out how to have it all. Navigating being a good mother and a successful career woman is such a common problem, it’s even become a staple trope in romantic comedies. Husbands are not often faced with this problem. Their job is just to provide. But provide what exactly? Money? Time? Love? Attention?
No wonder so many women have daddy issues. Daddy, it turns out, was simply throwing a pay cheque into the equation, neglecting his family so that his little girl would think the best way to get his attention would be to marry the pot-smoking fine arts dropout with a taste for berets.
Conversely, many males have been coddled by doting stay-at-home mothers, leaving him entering the world looking for a young woman to baby him just as much.
The solution is role reversal. Like Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday, husbands should take a turn experiencing life in the shoes of a stay-at-home mother, who should have a turn experiencing the freedom to pursue her career aggressively without worrying about skipping out of work for a few minutes because their little angel left his sports bag at home.
But there’s a better reason for advocating stay-at-home dadship. Working sucks! Sure, they give you money and you get to go to cool work events, but imagine being one of those moms who congregate at Tashas after yoga to gossip over a late-morning glass of chardonnay. That comes with its own problems, but taking up an archery class while the kids are at school could assuage some of them. I want to be the trophy husband of a rich woman who neglects me but lets me use her credit card. She gets to pursue her dream of being a #boss and I get to swan around in my SUV complaining about the service at that new lunch spot and bullying teachers who don’t share my view that the sun shines out little Tyler’s exit strategy. So if there are any rich women in need of a pretty, mildly vapid piece of arm candy that will ensure the kids are taken care of and be delightful at work functions, give me a shout.