FYI: Traditionalism is Not all That Aspirational
What exactly is it that you yearn to go back to?! (Cis white men, we know your answer.)
I remember, once, a couple of years ago – who am I kidding, over a decade ago, when I was in college, which feels like just yesterday but was in fact another generation, a time before bitcoin and NFTs, when we knew what R Kelly was up to but could still pretend not to – being asked, “If you could go back and live in any other era in history, when would you choose?”
It will not surprise you to know that this question was being asked by a white male friend of mine. He lived in the apartment three doors down from mine and had been, at one stage (but of course) the object of my great affections.
Having been spurned by him for the other girl next door, I was now pretending to be very cool with our being Just Friends, still spending the majority of my free time in his apartment with him and his other two housemates, playing Grand Theft Auto and pretending I couldn’t smell his unwashed hamster cage. (That is not a euphemism.)
“What era could I possibly go back to,” I asked him, “in which I would have more rights than I do now? Where could I go, that my life would not be infinitely worse than it is today?” (Reader, he couldn’t answer.)
I think about this moment more often than I’d like to – and by that I mean, why couldn’t my brain retain useful information, like the code for my garage door or the pin to my Bank of Ireland credit card?! – when I read about the great return of traditional values, a kind of nostalgic call to arms that seems to have started, as so many trends do, in the world of interiors but now spread to politics, culture, transport and beyond.
“Our country is experiencing epidemic levels of mental health problems, drug addiction, single-parent homes, homelessness…” says Barb, a writer whose blog, Making it Home, is subtitled “nurturing a simpler, happier, healthier home life”.
She goes on to lament the changes in US society that have heralded “the destruction of the traditional home and moral values”.
I have to admit that she might not be wrong, at least on some counts. That the US is experiencing the aforementioned list of “ills” is undeniable – although I would question the idea that the incidence of mental illness has exponentially increased over the past few decades; rather, I suspect that it has become exponentially more acceptable to admit that you are experiencing mental health problems, and to seek help for same – but I do wonder whether or not a return to “the traditional home and moral values” could, in any way, be heralded as a cure for said ills.
When thinking about the concept of a “traditional home and [associated] moral values”, I often think of life in the 1950s and 1960s, a kind of Mad Men era in which we, as a society, were beginning to enjoy the trappings of capitalism and modernity, without the more modern theories of intersectional feminism, critical race theory and gender fluidity to get in the way of our career and personal ambitions.
Was that better than what we have now?
If you’re Don Draper, perhaps – at least in earlier seasons, when the truth of his wife’s dissatisfaction (could we say loathing?) and his own personal weaknesses had not yet been examined in the light. But Peggy Olsen, and Betty Draper herself, would surely have been better off living in 2021, where they would be free to examine and explore and realise their own wants, needs and ambitions outside of the confines of what was, with very little room to manoeuvre, a man’s world.
That’s not to say, of course, that we’re not still living in a man’s world – that is a facile description, though, and infers too much, in my opinion, about the power of the individual man (and, of course, not all men). It is more useful to speak about the patriarchy, a structure that advantages men but is held up by all of us, and society at large, regardless of gender, sexual orientation and political affiliation.
There are moments in which we all, whether subconsciously or otherwise, uphold the very same patriarchal values against which we wish to rail. It is very difficult to de-programme an entire society (although it is still important to try).
At its heart, I think, a yearning for traditionalism – at least in terms of culture and values, rather than interiors (although I could pen an entire anti-traditionalist-decor rant; I do strongly detest farmhouse-style interiors and sofas with plush, rounded edges) – is founded in a longing for that age-old Holy Grail of the “easy life”, and that, to me, feels, at the very least, understandable.
Things have, indeed, got complicated. As one’s mother might say – not my mother, for she has announced that any mention of her, in writing or, say, on the podcast I host with my sister, is now verboten (and I quote: “It. Is. OVER.”) – weren’t things a lot simpler before we worried about emotional labour, white privilege, even burnout and gender identity?
The answer is, undoubtedly, yes. Things were simpler. But is simplicity always better? Or are we building a more complex understanding of society and the very essence of being human that will allow us, if we keep our eyes and ears open, to build towards a richer, more complex and fulfilling future both for ourselves and for generations to come? I hope so.
Here’s what I’ve been consuming…
Anne Helen Peterson has been writing a series on the cultural meaning of Peloton. I really enjoy her writing. It’s smart and thought-provoking – she also wrote the above-linked piece about millennial burnout – and this three-part series (start here) is no exception.
I’m reading Dune, which I decided to do after I watched the trailer for the upcoming remake. A la Game of Thrones, mind you, I’m finding myself getting increasingly confused by the complicated names, not just of people but of places, modes of transport and who knows what else. Still, I will persevere. My Kindle app tells me I’m 41% of the way through so that’s encouraging.
Brandin and I have started Westworld (again, for me) from the beginning. I remember loving season one and then – are you noticing a theme? – becoming hopelessly confused, two episodes into season two and promptly giving up. This time I am, once again, determined to persevere although the second watch is providing me with no more clarity on what’s going on than the first did. Mostly, it’s serving as background noise to my (poor, and very slow) knitting.
The Elizabeth Holmes trial is currently dominating my podcast listening. I’m listening to two: ABC News’ The Drop Out and Bad Blood, presented by John Carreyrou, whose book of the same name is on the to-read list.