I was recently gifted this amazing box of quilt pieces. They belonged to my great-great grandmother. They are all hand sewn, and the fabric came almost exclusively from feed bags and flour sacks. I love them. And I obviously must learn to quilt. I can't wait to give these beautiful pieces a meaningful life. Plus, I've never met a craft I didn't like, so I'm pretty sure quilting was inevitable. When I sort through these squares, I am all at once sad that this art form was not handed down from generation to generation (and deeply saddened that my chicken feed doesn't come in beautiful cotton fabric) and also thankful that because quilting in my family is a lost art, I get to be the one to revive it.
I love learning a new, useful skill. I love the idea that someday there will be a quilt in my home that is a magical collaboration between two homemakers separated by generations. My great grandmother was a practitioner of "Old Domesticity"; she grew a garden and raised chickens because her family needed to eat. She sewed quilts and clothing from feed bags because her family had to keep warm.
Joining the workforce and paying for these things instead wasn't an option for her. Since we never met, I can't ask her whether she enjoyed her role as a homemaker. Looking at the love put into those perfect little stitches, I can't help but think it wasn't a total drag, but I could just as likely be romanticizing it. You see, I have a choice. If I don't get around to making this quilt I can just pick up a comforter at Target with money I've earned at my job. I am mostly grateful but sometimes overwhelmed by this choice, and the many other choices our generation is faced with.
Which brings me to my review of the book I was interviewed for: Homeward Bound: Why Women Are Embracing the New Domesticity*. The path that I have chosen for my life is what Emily Matchar would call "New Domesticity"; although, like most modern homemakers, I do not fit into the archetypal caricature she tries so desperately to draw. For example, not all modern homemakers with children are attachment parents, I know I'm not. And we haven't all "opted-out" of the workforce; for instance, she failed to mention that I work both outside and within the home. Just because you knit doesn't mean you own chickens or drink raw milk exclusively.
Matchar does have moments of clarity where she defines New Domesticity with eloquence:
"And isn't this what New Domesticity is really all about--sharing skills, connecting with others, reviving lost traditions, inventing new ones, working with our hands?"
"New Domesticity comes out of a deep desire for change in the world. We don't want to trade our souls for our careers, and we don't want to live in a culture that encourages us to do so. We want to embrace the richness, creativity, and comfort that can be found in domestic life, and we don't want to fear that we'll be mocked or taken less seriously for doing so. We want to live in a more sustainable way, both economically and ecologically."
Unfortunately, she seems to have failed to understand New Domesticity. It's about choices, options, and control. It's about enjoyment and personal fulfillment. It isn't a strict lifestyle. She is right when she calls the DIY movement highly individual, but not in the "us vs. them" or "me vs. the world" way she characterizes it. For me and many others, the "New" in New Domesticity means we pick and choose what works for us. For some, that's sewing our kid's underwear, but paying someone to clean our house. For others, it's cooking from scratch and urban farming, while still enjoying the occasional take-out. There is plenty of overlap in DIY "culture", but there aren't any hard and fast rules. Those trying to make them are the exception, not the norm; they are radicals in an otherwise pretty laid back "movement."
Overall, I feel this book is an interesting read with some thought provoking points; yet I can't help but worry that some readers who might wish to start raising chickens or take up crochet will fear they must also quit their job and refuse to vaccinate their children. We can't have and do it all, this includes not being able to DIY it all either, and that is totally okay. At the end of her book, Matchar encourages us to be more inclusive, something I would argue we already are. Nevertheless, I hope that small + friendly is a place where you feel inspired, but not preached to. Encouraged, but not judged. Because for me, that's what modern homemaking is all about.
Did you read the book? I'd love to know your thoughts.
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