On Betties (Friedan and Draper)
Welcome to Oregon Humanities’ new website! Oregon Humanities has gone through a lot of changes this last year—our programs are more interactive, accessible, and provide deeper context—and we have new name, materials, and website to reflect these changes. But I hope this website does more than this. Adam McIsaac, one of our fabulous web designers from the equally fabulous Pinch, tells me that the website should be more than a virtual pamphlet. He says it’s meant to be a dynamic publishing mechanism. I love this. When you navigate the site you’ll find lots of opportunities to engage, question, or tell your story. The site is a place where we can all be curious, open, thoughtful, and active. It’s kind of a programmatic space where ideas are introduced, people talk, and, we hope, a moment of discovery happens. This is what Jelly Helm, who we were incredibly fortunate to work with on this branding project, dubbed an “O. Hm.” moment. Check out the amazing film that Jelly and Grow Film worked on to see what other Oregonians are saying about the power of ideas to change lives.
And speaking of “O. Hm.” moments (I know—a subtle transition, right?), have you seen the new season of Mad Men? Some Oregon Humanities staff members have been watching the series since it came out in 2007, but I started watching it about six months ago (thank you, Netflix!). I’m continually shocked by all of the characters, but most of all, I am shocked by the sheer and frightening emptiness that is Betty Draper’s face. For those of you who have not seen the show, Betty Draper is the wife of protagonist, Don Draper—OH staff loves to hate and loves to love this guy. Don is a successful ad guy and Betty, his wife, is a homemaker. She has a beautiful house, two beautiful children, beautiful clothes—oh, and did I mention that she is stunningly beautiful?
Now, I’ve read the Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan’s 1963 book in which she hypothesized that middle-class women were victims of a false belief system that required them to find meaning in their lives through their husbands and children. Turns out that these women completely lost their sense of identity. They were depressed, hopeless, and, yes, empty. I know that there are class and race trappings that the book ignores, and I get that this is problematic. But the book does give you a pretty good sense of the desolate life that middle-class white women lived in the 1950s and early ’60s.
Here’s the thing: I read the book. I took a number of women’s studies courses in grad school. “Gender Studies and U.S. Women’s History” was my secondary field area. I thought I got it. I knew this stuff. But when I saw Betty Draper’s face this past year, I immediately realized that I didn’t get it. And I was suddenly not so outraged in that uniquely academic and somewhat detached way to which I was so accustomed. Instead, I was sad. In fact, I wanted to have my mother and my aunts watch the show to tell me if it was true, but I was scared. Still am. Because part of me, the part that wants to hold on to the belief that my mother and her sisters, that my friends’ mothers were totally happy, doesn’t really want to know.
This fear is related to lots of things—my love for my own mother, my desire to hang on to a certain image of my own childhood, my experience taking care of my own child, my interpretations of my friends’ varied experiences of motherhood. And though I firmly believe that women are in a better place now, still, I wonder about the legacy of sadness and how, were we to really confront it, it could impact all of our lives.
17 September 2009 | Posted by Cara Ungar-Gutierrez in Inside O. Hm. New Ideas
Permalink | Comments? (7 so far)
Commentary
I love this whole new approach. The Humanities and the Arts should always be about new ideas. Bravo!
Bill Rauch | 01 Oct at 10:15 AM
I think it was a shame to abolish the Chautauqua program - it should be reinstated - it was cost effective, brought information and entertainment to thousands of Oregonians of all ages. There was no good reason to stop it. I do not know who Bill Rauch is, but I wonder if he ever saw Pat Courtney Gold’s program on Native American weaving.
diane allen | 08 Oct at 12:13 PM
Thanks Bill. And thanks for the comment, Diane. The Conversation Project: A New Chautauqua starts in early November and has already received requests from 16 counties—we’re very excited about this!
Oregon Humanities developed the Conversation Project in response to years of program evaluations submitted by Chautauqua participants (around the state) and at the request of our board—both of whom requested a more interactive format. This was not a quick decision; our bright and talented staff took over 2 years to talk with scholars, research the interests of Oregonians and the work of other humanities councils across the nation. The program maintains the core features of Chautauqua in the sense that it features some of Oregon’s brightest public scholars and is available for free to nonprofit organizations across the state (with a focus on rural outreach).
We are very proud of about this new program. It represents a powerful humanities-based learning experience for Oregonians around the state.
Diane, I hope that you will consider attending several Conversation Projects and letting us know what you think.
All best,
Cara
Cara Ungar Gutierrez | 09 Oct at 10:03 AM
how do i find out where they are?
diane | 10 Oct at 07:20 AM
I’ve been thinking about this post, because I totally get what you mean about understanding Friedan’s work in a whole new way after seeing Betty Draper’s face. And after the intense development of her character over the past couple of weeks, I can’t help wondering what you think of Betty Draper now?
Eliza Canty-Jones | 14 Oct at 12:00 PM
Funny you should ask, Eliza. I’m actually kind of torn.
I’m “mad” at Betty. On the one hand, it looks like she’s challenging some deeply held assumptions about what she is and who she should be. And I think she finds this really empowering. On the other hand, she’s counting on what could be interpreted as some fairly conventional liberation tools (“beauty,” playing “hard to get,”). She’s feeling valued—goodness knows she’s felt pretty crappy about herself and her place in the world for a while. But she’s securing this “feeling” as it obtains through the male gaze; she feels good about herself because some guy is crushing out on her. Also, it’s hard for me to take that “fainting bed.” It’s a sign that in her mind, and in the mind of the men who surround her, authentic and “attractive” femininity has its source in weakness. That’s a hard pill to swallow.
And finally, the racist crack this past week was unbelievable, shocking and even embarrassing. And I’m mad at her again. Truth be told, when I asked my grandmother, a Jewish immigrant, how she knew she was American, she responded “I hired a black maid.” It’s taken me the better part of 20 years to come to terms with this comment. Racist? You bet. A reflection of the culture…yep, that too. Right? Nope.
I don’t really know what Betty’s options are for empowerment. And I remain interested in analyzing my own assumptions against what was or was not possible for women like Betty at that moment.
You?
cara | 15 Oct at 01:28 PM
I am completely torn on what to think of Betty herself, but I am on board with the brilliance of having her character on the show. The racist, almost offhand, comment to her maid was perfectly reflective of what people say and hear in marriage equality debates today. Well written, writers. I also loved the scene in which she gets advice from a lawyer, an old family friend, who counsels her to stick with her lying, cheating husband because he can provide for her and she will have a tough time getting a divorce without his consent. That is also a mighty bitter pill. Regarding strength and weaknesses, male definitions of worth, and possibilities for empowerment, I find it fascinating to consider both Betty’s and Peggy’s affairs, such as they are.
I’m fully impressed with the show’s success in forcing us to consider what options the female (and African American) characters did have for empowerment, leading me to consider something completely different: the power and worth of historical fiction.
Eliza Canty-Jones | 05 Nov at 12:32 PM
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