Better in Stepford

Dearest Rachel –

The other day, I was showing Daniel one of the channels I’ve been watching while he’s been hanging out with Logan in the family room. It’s one of those film analysis essay sites, but rather than addressing the literary merits of the work, it discusses a film’s effect on the collective psyche of the culture that watches it. In the case of this particular film, the effect is more on those who were made aware of it, as opposed to consuming it directly, because not too many people actually watched the film (or read the book) when it came out. However, most people know, even two and three generations since its release, what a “Stepford wife” is, and why she is to be feared and avoided.

Obviously, both book and movie could just be considered a product of their time, coming as they did in the midst of the sexual revolution of the sixties and seventies. They were clearly in favor of the same, as opposed to the traditional housewife role that had been the lot of females since time immemorial. But even today, there are plenty of more recent works – the movie Pleasantville and the show “Desperate Housewives” come to mind right offhand, setting aside that they’re both at least a decade old – that make it abundantly clear that there’s something either empty and unfulfilling at best, or dark and sinister at worst, behind those traditional roles, and women would do well to free themselves from them.

And so, many of your contemporaries did, didn’t they, honey? Taught as they were that they could – and should – have it all; career, independence and fulfillment, without the oppression of having to belong (as they saw it) to some godawful man, they went out and got all – or at least most – of these things. And maybe they’re happy that way; who am I to say what truly fulfills another person? I barely know what makes me happy anymore, to be honest.

What I do know is that, even for those who never read the book or watched the movie – like myself, or presumably you (I can’t speak to whether you did when you were younger, given your taste for watching horror with your Dad, although this is of a different sort, and the topic isn’t quite aligned with the typical offerings of that genre) – the characterization of the Stepford wife has become a boogeyman (boogeywoman?) archetype for half the population, not unlike the ‘handmaids’ of a later book (which also went unread, at least by you and me). Women do not want to become these people, at any cost – or at any rate, they’re told they don’t, and most believe that (of course – spoilers! – the fact of the matter is, the Stepford wives aren’t women at all, and no women are turning into them. More on that in a moment).

The strange part of all this, as I was watching this video essay, was the dawning realization that you obviously had the option to be like most of modern female kind, and become a career woman rather than a housewife and mother. You even had a pretty good example in your mother, who balanced a career in academia as well as rather ruling the roost at home more often than not. This, despite the fact that it was your Dad who had the Ph.D.; your Mom, however, had more tenure at the university. Moreover, she never seemed comfortable with the domestic aspects of life; always complaining about working on her own in the kitchen when she felt she had to, but woe be upon anyone who tried to help her, as she had her system that no one else could work adequately well.

I’m sure they might have been puzzled by your lack of artistic aptitude that had gotten them where they were, but at the same time proud of you for doing as well as you did in STEM-related fields, to the point of majoring in them in college. From all vantage points, you were poised to become a similarly modern woman, with liberty and career and all.

And then, somehow, you decided against all that, and chose to move to suburbia – the closest real-life analog to Stepford there is – with me, and become a housewife.

Now, in fairness, that wasn’t your plan from the beginning – you made it plain to me that you had very little interest in boys or relationships until getting to college. Moreover, neither of us had planned on becoming parents, as we considered ourselves wholly unprepared for the task. But it would seem that God had other plans – which, of course, is why Daniel was given his name – and so we fell into the role, whether we were ready or not.

And rather than consider it an imposition, you threw yourself into the role, studying books to at least gain a modicum of understanding as to how to better guide Daniel as he grew up – even more so, as you worked to figure out what extra attention he might need, given his condition. Rather than considering it a prison imposed on you by society, you seemed content, almost grateful, to be able to stay at home with him, rather than having to go out and work for a living like so many others did. It didn’t even seem to bother you that those you grew up with were eschewing that traditional role – whether out of innate desire for more, or having been culturally conditioned to recoil from it. You were satisfied with where you were; happy, even.

Of course, maybe that came from watching me and my struggles, especially in the past decade or so. Something could be said about the fact that, as soon as it was an option for us, you invited me to exit the rat race; previously, it would never have occurred to me to ask you to join me in it. That should tell you something about how both of us viewed the options whether or not to find fulfillment in work.

And as for affection, and how the central character of the movie reacted to it being demonstrated, well… I just told you the other day about how someone else saw you as an example to get to know and emulate. Things changed in the fifty-plus years since that film came out – that, or we run in circles where the Stepford life is actually better than the alternative offered by the story.

Ironically (or maybe not, given the march of technology) that we’re closer to the point of the reality of the titular creatures now than we ever have been. And indeed, it’s quite possible that the Veruca Saltian “I want it all” attitude of women may hasten men to develop and embrace such robotic simulacrums rather than the flesh-and-blood beings that have, for the past half-century, been indoctrinated into thinking that such relationships are repulsive and stifling. They may just get their wish, and wonder why it all played out as it did in the film – albeit with less murder.

As for you, whether you would have said it or not (I suspect you might insist that “I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly,” even as you might agree in principle, especially given the alternative), you seemed to conclude that it was better in Stepford with me. I’d like to think you just refused to be screenwashed, as the channel calls itself, but I suspect you just preferred life at home (which, to be fair, your folks worried you would even as you considered attending the university that was literally in your backyard, and they insisted you go further afield) to the work farce and the revolution. I wish you could confirm my conclusion, but at least you’re not able to deny them, either.

As for wishes, I’d ask that you wish me luck going forward (as always) as you keep your eye on me; I’m going to need it.