Three years ago, I found myself in a standoff with my husband. The argument at hand? Who would pick the kids up from school.
My argument: I’ll lose the opportunity to meet with a major client if I don’t finish this presentation now, potentially costing us thousands. I was the one who packed the kids' lunches, gathered backpacks, and hurried them out the door that morning. I was also the one who used my five-minute breaks to schedule a dentist appointment for my youngest daughter and to email the choir director about my autistic daughter’s nerves.
Scott’s perspective: Traffic would be crazy if he left his physical therapy office right now to collect them. It would be a huge inconvenience.
I picked up the kids. I was angry but stewed silently. And I felt the disrespect and the mental load sit heavily on my shoulders.
My husband is not an outlier. I am not a pushover. I’m a seasoned, Stanford-trained physician who’s written three books on work-life integration for moms. When we argued that day, we’d both read Fair Play and knew exactly how to treat our marriage like the business partnership it was–at least in theory. I knew all the strategies and practical suggestions out there for dismantling gender discrimination personally and professionally, and yet it still existed in my own home–and in my workplace, too.
The more I talked to other experts in my field, the more I saw I wasn’t alone that day. There’s a difference between understanding strategies and implementing them. And, as it turns out, most of us want equity more than almost anything, but we can’t get it to save our lives. Our pay is still lower than our male counterparts. We left in droves during the COVID pandemic to shoulder our family’s childcare needs. Our corporate loyalty is questioned when we advocate for remote work and flexible hours. Our partners still expect us to be on pick-up duty–even when it makes no practical sense.
Why don’t we have more equity? Why do we constantly feel like failures–stretched too thin by our professional and personal demands, at our edge with nothing more to give–even when we feel like we’re never giving enough? What more can we do? Maybe, ironically, it starts with allowing ourselves to do less.
Believe me, I’m all for addressing structural issues that hold working moms back, like educating men about the mental load women carry, developing more supportive workplace policies, and teaching practical strategies à la Fair Play. However, when we isolate our efforts to this systems-based approach, we miss an important, foundational step for the women who exist within them. We can teach career-driven women work-life integration strategies until we’re blue in the face, but telling moms more and more ways to fix their lives with how-tos isn’t the full answer.