'Rejoice,' the letter said..

“The Cult of Domesticity developed as family lost its function as economic unit. Many of links between family and community closed off as work left home. Emergence of market economy and the devaluation of women’s work. Increasingly, then, home became a self-contained unit. Privacy was a crucial issue for nineteenth-century families, and can see this concern in the spatial development of suburbs in urban areas as families sought single family dwellings were they could be even more isolated from others. Women remained in the home, as a kind of cultural hostage.

Women were expected to uphold the values of stability, morality, and democracy by making the home a special place, a refuge from the world where her husband could escape from the highly competitive, unstable, immoral world of business and industry. It was widely expected that in order to succeed in the work world, men had to adopt certain values and behaviors: materialism, aggression, vulgarity, hardness, rationality. But men also needed to develop another side to their nature, a human side, an anticompetitive side. The home was to be the place where they could do this. This was where they could express humanistic values, asthetic values, love, honor, loyalty and faithfulness. The home was no longer a unit valued for its function in the community (or its economic productiveness), but rather for its isolation from the community and its service to its members.”

True, the home has become an extremely separate sphere of existence from work, particularly in America. Especially when compared to Vietnam (and I hesitate to compare the two countries, because they’re so drastically different in ideology, governance, values, and economic status), the (my) “home” in America feels so isolated. (I use the term “home” liberally, for in my case, it’s a pretty fluid definition. Ever since I’ve been back, I’ve been floating between four cities in Texas, couch surfing or sharing beds whenever possible. Even when I’m bumming on my brother’s futon, or visiting my mom’s house in Laredo, I would not call either of those a home.) 

The interesting thing was, in Vietnam, I was never “home.” I was constantly at “work” or at a cafe, or just out and about — because for some reason, that entire country and every place in it was home. When I’m eating out with my friends, we’re literally eating in someone’s living room. When I’m at work, I’m at the shelter, where I used to live. I was constantly surrounded by my siblings, housemothers, or just extremely hospitable people all the time. Everyone’s house was open to you. It was incredible, though, because even though I was surrounded by family and the home life, I did not wash a single dish, because other people always offered to wash it for me. I hardly ever cooked because it was cheaper, and more delicious, to eat out. I rarely cleaned because I was just never home (my 2nd year). 

Here, my family is scattered around cities and states. Distance and work schedules make it difficult to see each other. Surprisingly, I live a much more isolated life here, mainly because now, we’re all getting older, moving on with our lives. Not to say my friends & I don’t love each other just as much, it’s just life’s constraints happen and seeing each other becomes that much harder. 

But being back here and learning to re-live, essentially, means learning to sweep. Learning to wash the dishes. Learning to cut vegetables. Learning to wipe the windows. Learning to get an oil change. Learning to go grocery shopping. Learning how to mop. Learning the art of domesticity, because there can a distinct and artful way to do each of those things. 

 Bringing the joy into each of those seemingly mundane tasks has been a delight. I love even observing domesticity. I’m delighted any time I watch my brother’s family interact. What wonderful, pure moments I’ve witnessed. My mom’s eye twinkles when she gets to cook for me, even if it’s at 10 pm at night when she gets home from work. And I love knowing my little brother loves having me around, even though unfortunately for him, his big sister is very particular about his schoolwork & hygiene. 

I don’t think life’s lessons are ever new. I think it’s about re-learning and reminding yourself of the same ones over and over. I’m re-learning to find joy in the every day, no matter what day it is, or where I am.