Lady business with equal parts lady and business.
A year ago, Google was the first tech company to publicly disclose statistics on how diverse its workforce is, which led to a number of tech companies’ following suit. None came out looking very good. But every single one pledged that, in one way or another, they wanted to do better and would start doing better.
Now the preliminary results of their efforts have come in, and all that talk is looking pretty cheap. At Google, the number of women in technical roles rose just 1 percent over the last year, while the share of black and Hispanic people in those jobs didn’t change at all. Facebook released its updated numbers last week, and they are just as grim. The company hired just seven black employees in 2013, the most recent year that it made an Equal Employment Opportunity report public, while it hired 695 white people. Women in tech roles at Facebook lost a percentage point between 2014 and 2015, while things stayed exactly the same for black and Hispanic employees.
Diversity, of course, takes hard work and often requires a profound culture change. It would be tough for a large company to go from being run by nearly all white men to reflecting the variance of the country’s population overnight. And both companies have made changes in the hopes of furthering diversity. Google extended its paid family leave to five months instead of the original three, which decreased its female attrition rate by 50 percent. It has also had staff go through unconscious-bias training and nudged women to nominate themselves more often for promotions. Facebook, meanwhile, launched a “strategic diversity team” and focused on the pipeline by creating programs and investing in others targeted at students and early career people.
Still, though, protestations that these companies are doing their best—that the pipeline of talented people who aren’t white men runs dry, that they just can’t get to the numbers they truly want—ring hollow. “We’re still not where we want to be when it comes to diversity,” Google said of its latest numbers. Yet others have set out to increase diversity and delivered real results.
One startling success story comes from a French law firm. TAJ is now completely gender balanced—meaning 50 percent female—at all levels of the company, including equity partners. To get there, head Gianmarco Monsellato got personally involved. He was part of every conversation about promotions and tracked them, as well as compensation, to ensure things were equal. He was the only one doling out cases for a while, making sure men and women got equal access to the best ones. He put women on some of the hardest cases and personally called any clients who objected.
Not all executives may be willing to get so involved voluntarily. Some companies have still decided that diversity is worth it—given how much research shows it leads to better performance—and decided to push management toward getting involved. At Kimberly-Clark, the personal-care-product conglomerate, the board is 25 percent female and its senior leadership team is only one-third white men. To ensure diversity keeps improving, it made the development of diverse talent a metric by which leaders get judged and tied bonus money to it. It also requires that one person interviewed for every position above a certain level be a member of some minority.
Of course, getting executives interested in diversity may be easier if they themselves are at least a little diverse. This is another area where tech companies keep falling down. Facebook’s senior leadership team is 73 percent white and 77 percent male. Google’s is 72 percent white and 78 percent male. Surely, if the pipeline of new employees were totally dry, these companies could at least make an effort to bring more of their own diverse employees up into the leadership ranks.
The pipeline, however, is not in fact dry. A USA Today analysis found that black and Hispanic students graduate computer-science and engineering programs at top universities at double the rate at which they get hired by leading tech companies. Male graduates of science and engineering programs end up employed in a STEM occupation at twice the rate of female graduates. Some tech companies that are dedicated to being diverse have achieved the goal: ThoughtWorks just had a hiring class that was more than half female. Women and people of color who want to work in technology are out there. They can be hired. It might not be easy, but clearly it can be done.
The first step toward making all workplaces, and particularly those like technology where white men still reign supreme, more equal is to acknowledge that there is a problem and decide to do something about it. And in that way, Google and Facebook are at least on the right track
It’s not that these are bad steps. But they are clearly woefully inadequate. When your workforce has been so pale and male for so long, it takes a lot more than a desire for change to make it actually change. It takes more than a few policy and process tweaks. It’s not something you can set and forget. Diversity takes a concerted effort and a real investment that goes way beyond empty promises. The good news, though, is that it is, in fact, achievable.
In her second campaign for the presidency, Hillary Clinton doesn’t seem to be swinging for the middle anymore. If the first few weeks of her presidential campaign are any sign, she’s staking out ground firmly on the left and setting her sights on expanding the Obama coalition. She downplayed her gender in the 2008 campaign, but this time around, she’s even taking up the mantle of feminism to say she will fight for parents struggling to make it all work.
Clinton’s leftward shift includes calling for an “end to the era of mass incarceration” in a recent speech about the criminal justice system. That speech didn’t just represent a departure from a number of the positions she espoused during her 2008 primary campaign, including embracing mandatory minimum sentences. It was an about-face from the beefed-up sentencing and funding for police and prisons allocated by the 1994 crime bill, pushed for and signed by President Bill Clinton—a bill she supported at the time.
But if she wants to be the candidate who champions the needs of vulnerable Americans, of those at the bottom of the economy instead of the top, of people of color and mothers and children, then she’s going to have to wrestle with another legacy of her husband’s that, at least at one time, had her support: welfare reform.
In 1996, President Clinton signed a bill that he said would “end welfare as we know it.” And it did just that. It took the Aid to Families with Dependent Children program—which, at the time, was a cost-sharing program between the federal government and states to dispense cash benefits to poor mothers—and turned it into what we have today, the Temporary Assistance for Needy Families block grant. Ostensibly, its purpose was the same, but its block-grant structure meant that the federal government would no longer share a proportionate burden of the costs. Instead, TANF today hands a given sum to the states no matter what demand might be and issues them loose guidelines on how to administer the country’s only cash-benefit program.
You can find people today who claim that this has been a success—Representative Paul Ryan is a good example. (Hillary Clinton’s husband is another.) It has certainly saved the government money. But it is hard to find a single way in which it hasn’t been a catastrophe for the vulnerable.
The federal government hasn’t increased the amount of money it gives to states since 1996, so that money has been eroded by 28 percent, thanks to inflation. Meanwhile, the few guidelines that states have to follow do little to incentivize them to help more poor people. Quite the opposite: They have every reason to try to reduce their rolls and free up more funds, which they often move around to cover things other than cash benefits. Sometimes that extra money goes to related programs like childcare and job training, but states often just use the money to plug budget holes. That means that the share of eligible families who actually get help through TANF keeps steadily falling, to the point where just 26 percent of poor families with children are enrolled, compared to 72 percent before reform went into effect.
After welfare reform, poverty did decrease for a time and people moved out of the program and into jobs. The poverty rate for single mothers fell from 55.4 percent in 1991 to 39.3 percent in 2001. But that was during the ’90s boom, when jobs were relatively easy to find.
The story has changed in a more unstable economy. The share of families headed by a single mother that live in poverty climbed back up to two-fifths by 2012, and the share of those mothers who are neither working nor getting assistance had risen 10 percent by 2005. And for many, poverty has become much more acute. The share of families in deep poverty, or whose incomes are below half the poverty line, is higher than in 1996, while the share in extreme poverty who live on $2 a person or less each day has risen sharply since then. Poor mothers’ life expectancy also dropped after reform.
Welfare reform also imposed lifetime limits on the program and work requirements for eligibility. Research has shown that those limits leave families who get kicked off the rolls with lower incomes and higher poverty rates.
And when times get really bad, TANF can’t do much to cushion the blow. The unemployment rate spiked sharply between 2007 and 2011, but in almost a third of states TANF caseloads actually fell. The rolls only ever increased 16 percent, while the number of unemployed people went up by 88 percent. States just didn’t have the money to give out more assistance, and because TANF is a block grant, the federal government didn’t get involved. Meanwhile the caseload for food stamps, a program that isn’t block-granted, rose 45 percent.
Hillary Clinton supported her husband’s push for welfare reform, which may not be surprising, given how often she has stood by her man. But she also voiced support for it during her 2008 campaign, expressing no misgivings about how it turned out and telling The New York Times that she thought it was necessary and enormously successful.
That doesn’t mean she won’t shift her stance on the issue as she has on criminal justice reform and a pathway to citizenship for undocumented immigrants. The campaign didn’t respond to a request for comment on whether she still supports it. But she needs to do some hard thinking about where she stands. In her first speech after she announced her campaign, she talked about her mother’s experience growing up in poverty as a child. “No one deserves to grow up like that,” she told the audience, saying this belief is part of her “core values.” It’s reflected in some of the stories in her launch video: a single mother moving to give her daughter a better education, a black couple preparing for their first baby, a young boy getting ready for a school play. Women, and particularly women of color, are more likely than men to live in poverty, and single mothers are particularly in need of support. These are the very people Clinton wants to vote for her.
What will her response be to Republicans who cite the supposed success of welfare reform in their efforts to block-grant all antipoverty programs, which would result in deep cuts to an already meager safety net? Perhaps more importantly, what help can she offer for the poor families who aren’t even able to access the threadbare lifeline that is welfare assistance?
It’s certainly not a pressing legislative issue. There are no current proposals to fix TANF; Democrats are mostly playing defense against withering spending cuts to other programs. So there isn’t a roadmap for Clinton to easily adopt. But that also leaves room for her to go big. Instead of a meager welfare program that has so many barriers that few families can access it, she could call for something universal and generous, like a child allowance paid to every parent, which has the potential to cut child poverty in half and reduce overall poverty by a quarter.
The Hillary Clinton running for president today as a champion for families struggling to get ahead necessarily has to be one concerned about poverty. It’s well past time for her to acknowledge how we have failed the poor.
Read Next: Bryce Covert on other Fergusons, other Baltimores
As I was glued to Twitter on Monday night watching news of the uprisings in Baltimore roll in, I knew I would spend the next morning giving myself a crash course in the city’s economic ills. As with the protests in Ferguson, the protesters’ immediate grievances focused on police brutality and the loss of black lives at the hands of those supposedly there to protect them. But, in both instances, the community’s anger also stemmed from years of economic segregation and neglect.
Ferguson’s mass protests in the wake of Michael Brown’s killing sparked a wide-ranging conversation about housing policy and racial segregation, as well as the ways in which the local court systems were funded by preying on the city’s poorest. Already, Freddie Gray’s death in Baltimore has us talking about concentrated poverty, income, and racial inequality, and a dearth of jobs—let alone jobs that pay a living wage.
These are important conversations and they deserve a national dialogue. But these phenomena aren’t limited to Ferguson and Baltimore. They’re not new and they’re happening in cities across America. But we don’t talk about them until a black man is killed by a police officer—and a mass upheaval, usually including some property destruction, follows.
America’s cities are profoundly segregated by race, even today. The average city-dwelling white person lives in a neighborhood that is 75 percent white. The average black person lives in a neighborhood that is 45 percent black. Baltimore, and the St. Louis area where Ferguson is located, both rank among some of the worst offenders (St. Louis ranks ninth; Baltimore clocks in at 16th), but they are not the worst. That award goes to Detroit and Milwaukee.
Segregation in American cities is a legacy of racist government housing policy—both on a city and state level (segregation ordinances) and federally (redlining instituted by the New Deal mortgage programs like the Federal Housing Association and Home Owners’ Loan Corporation). These policies shaped St. Louis as well as Baltimore, but they existed across the country. Ta-Nehisi Coates has extensively chronicled the way these policies denied black families in Chicago any chance to build wealth, but they were the norm practically everywhere. The lack of access to traditional mortgages continues today and is part of why black communities were targeted by subprime lenders in the lead up to the housing crisis, which then devastated black wealth when the market crashed.
Detroit and Milwaukee also have some of the lowest rates of black male employment and have both seen the fastest declines since the 1970s. In Baltimore, 57.5 percent of black men of working age were employed as of 2010; in St. Louis, 51.3 percent were. But in Milwaukee, Detroit, Cleveland, Chicago, and Buffalo, less than half of black men had a job. And across the country, black unemployment has been in double digits for most of the last half-century and is still more than double that of white unemployment today.
At the same time, concentrated poverty has been on the rise in American cities. Baltimore has a 24 percent poverty rate, and the number of high-poverty neighborhoods increased in the city from 38 in 1970 to 55 in 2010. Over that same time period, the number of high-poverty neighborhoods in all cities tripled and the number of people living in them doubled. Black people make up the largest share of those living in extremely poor neighborhoods.
The residents of Ferguson and Baltimore—and others that have seen demonstrations and protests against racial mistreatment—have demanded to be heard, and they deserve to be heard. It’s important that we listen and that we take time to talk about how we got into this situation—one in which whole communities have so few opportunities. But it’s also worth remembering that there are countless Fergusons and Baltimores across the country. Is it possible to talk about them before someone dies?
Read Next: Bryce Covert on why education won’t solve the pay gap
Today is Equal Pay Day, the dismal holiday where women celebrate the fact that, on average, their earnings have caught up to what men made in one year last year, given that when they work full-time, year-round they make just 78 percent of what men make.
The gender wage gap hasn’t really budged in recent years—about a decade, in fact—and the Institute for Women’s Policy Research predicts it won’t actually close for another five decades. The gap is even larger for women of color, and they have to wait until summertime or later to catch up to what white men earned last year.
But some think change is coming faster than that. They base this hope on the fact that today’s young women are getting college degrees at a faster pace than today’s young men. Given that a college degree represents a more than $400 earnings premium every week over that of a high school graduate, that extra money should, they reason, help women earn their way out of the gap.
But while education may boost earnings for each college-educated woman over her less educated sister, that doesn’t put her on better, or even equal, footing with a similarly educated brother. The gender wage gap still shows up at every education level. Go to work after graduating high school, and you’ll earn less than a male high school graduate; go to work after graduating college, earn less than a male college grad. Even when a young, childless woman graduates the same college with the same major into the same job as a man, she’ll earn less.
Perhaps more galling is that the gap is widest at the highest levels of achievement. Women with high school educations earn 75 percent of what high school educated men earn, but women with graduate degrees earn 69.1 percent of what men with those degrees earn.
The gender wage gap can be partially explained by different factors: women get clustered into lower-paying work, and they often have to take time away from their careers to care for family. But each time economists look at the gap, they find an unexplainable portion—and that’s likely the murk where discrimination against women exists. It’s only been a half century since women started to flood the workplace, not much time to overcome the view that a woman who worked was maladjusted and harmful to her children, her husband and society. Given today’s treatment of pregnant women and mothers at work, we clearly haven’t totally shaken that suspicion of a woman in the workplace. Even if it goes unstated, even to the person setting pay himself, that suspicion may still lurk. It’s no contest for a mere diploma.
The same holds true for other entrenched biases. People of color can’t eradicate racism by simply getting better educated, either. While college degrees help, they can’t make up for everything. A black student has a lower chance of getting a job than a white one at every education level she achieves. Worse, a black graduate with an Associates degree has about the same chances as a white high school graduate; a black student with a Bachelor’s has the same chance as a white person who didn’t finish college. So even if a black person is better off educated than not, he will still never be quite as well off as a white person in a society still colored by white supremacy and the legacy of slavery.
What about class? Education is often championed as the ultimate way to overcome income inequality. It’s a sort of “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” approach, assuming that education will reinforce those bootstraps into something akin to steel cabling. But a recent paper simulated what would happen to income inequality if suddenly, one out of every ten men between the ages of 25 and 64 without a Bachelor’s were to suddenly have one. Such magic would, of course, increase each of those men’s earnings and chances of getting a job. But it doesn’t really change the fact that the richest Americans are getting an enormously outsized share of the country’s income.
That’s because America today has become a country of calcified, stratified classes that are nearly impossible to move between given that the rich keep accumulating more and more for themselves at the tippy top. An important portion of the problem is not just the wealth they accumulate, but the power they can buy with that wealth, keeping policies in place that benefit the best off among us.
Education is always the answer for the person who would rather put the onus of eliminating sexism, racism, and class on individuals, not on the collective. It’s alluring in a sort of “I did it and so can you” way: just put your mind to it and nothing can hold you back. And they have the numbers to explain to each woman, person of color, and poor person why they will do better with an education. But unfortunately, changing deeply entrenched beliefs society holds about these groups will take a whole lot more. It’s a lot harder than getting more people into a mortarboard. And until we as a society understand that, we’ll be celebrating Equal Pay Days in April, July, and November for the next half century.
Read Next: Bryce Covert on the Starbucks #RaceTogether campaign
McDonald’s has some unlikely company in at least one aspect of its labor practices: Starbucks.
This week, Starbucks announced that it would encourage its baristas to write “Race Together” on coffee cups and engage customers in conversation about the state of race relations in the United States. The company is also giving its employees stickers and placing inserts in newspapers to get the conversations rolling.
CEO Howard Schultz says the initiative comes out of his desire to show that “we at Starbucks should be willing to talk about these issues in America” after Michael Brown’s death in Ferguson, Missouri. It’s admirable that an executive is taking interest in social issues, rather than only fixating on protecting his own profits. But instead of doing something about it himself, Schultz is putting the onus on his workers—and asking them to go above the normal duties of a low-wage coffee house employee for no extra pay.
In so doing, his company joins the likes of McDonald’s and several other low-wage employers. Today’s underpaid employees are increasingly asked to do more than show up for their shifts on time, perform their duties, and do so politely. Now many employers are also asking them for something more: putting on a performance along with serving up a burger or a Frappuccino. Ahead of Valentine’s Day, McDonald’s ran a campaign where employees were asked to randomly pick customers who could “pay with lovin” instead of money if they danced, called their mom or hugged someone nearby. In reality, that required McDonald’s employees, who make just above minimum wage, to put on a show of excitement and enthusiasm on top of work that can be so rushed and intense that it leads to physical harm.
McDonald’s wasn’t the first employer to demand this kind of work from its employees. In 2013, Pret a Manger posted expectations of its workers: they should create a “sense of fun” and not act like they were “just here for the money.” (It later removed the requirements from its website.) It didn’t clarify what else an employee shows up for if not money. But more and more employers want their workers to pretend they get something out of work other than compensation. Some sociologists estimate that half of all jobs require emotional labor today, up from just a third in 1983.
Starbucks’s campaign is slightly different. It’s not asking employees to show delight doing about menial tasks so customers get a better experience. But it’s still an emotional performance—demanded of employees who make less than $20,000 a year on average. Schultz may genuinely want to spark meaningful conversations about race relations, but the initiative means something for the Starbucks brand, too—and the low-paid employees serve as the uncompensated brand ambassadors.
This extra work, for no extra pay, might require even more effort and duress than urging a customer to dance, particularly for the 40 percent of the company’s workforce are people of color. As Tressie McMillan Cottom, a professor who makes money by teaching students about, in part, race and racism, notes, “I require payment to talk about race and racism. It is a hard job.” People of color are constantly being called upon to talk about race—as paragons of their backgrounds and initiators of conversations with white Americans who don’t think of themselves as having a race at all. Cottom wonders whether Starbucks employees will even be given the tools they need for these conversations: “It takes a lot of training and a lot of institutional support to teach people things they would rather not hear. I wonder what kind of training and support the hourly wage baristas at Starbucks will get.”
Many are also questioning whether these conversations can even do anything toward dismantling the deeply entrenched racism in our country’s systems and practices. In an open letter to the company, Race Forward executive director Rinku Sen notes that effective conversations about race have to be not about “what happens among individuals,” but “what happens as a result of systems.” But that takes a lot of, well, work. “A conversation that leads to something other than frustration requires preparation, a systems analysis, and potential solutions that reach beyond changing individual mindsets or behavior,” she writes.
Schultz is a very wealthy man, reportedly making $21 million a year. If he wants to combat racism, he could do something himself: funding criminal justice reform efforts or groups working on voting rights or economic development projects. Those might be more effective than asking his employees to take on an extra task.
Read Next: Bryce Covert on the dangers of policies that take mothers out of the office
The dilemma is gut wrenching: you’re a new mother and you’ve just ended whatever amount of maternity leave, paid or unpaid, you were able to scrape together. Maybe you work at one of most generous companies, and got six paid months; maybe your employer doesn’t offer any paid leave, and you could only afford a few unpaid weeks away. Or perhaps you couldn’t afford any time off at all. That means returning to work while seeking somewhere to leave a child who’s 6 months old, or younger.
This is a tough challenge financially, logistically and emotionally. Infant childcare can run as much as $16,000 a year. And that’s if you can find somewhere to take such a young child that has open slots, fits into your schedule, and is a place you can trust. Then you have to make peace with leaving a baby you’re just getting to know in someone else’s hands. The problem doesn’t necessarily get better, though, as your child gets older. She still needs care while you go to work, care that is extremely pricey and hard to find.
Given these hurdles, women often feel that it’s easier for them to spend more time with their own children and less time at work. It solves at least part of the emotional, logistical, and financial headaches.
Now some companies are trying to help them do that. Vodafone announced this week that in addition to providing 16 weeks of fully paid maternity leave, new mothers can opt to work 30-hour weeks at full pay when they come back for up to six months. The startup PowerToFly, meanwhile, has launched with the goal of connecting mothers with work they can do remotely from their homes. Both aim to ease women’s dilemma of balancing work hours against the hours needed to care for a child.
But in doing so, they may end up perpetuating systemic problems with how women, and specifically mothers, are viewed at work.
Mothers are already looked upon as aliens in the workplace. Just having a child makes a woman appear less competent at her job and less committed to her work. Once women become mothers, they are seen as poor candidates for promotions and raises, so their wages take a hit. Too often, coworkers and bosses assume women who give birth will be irrevocably distracted by their children and end up either checking out or leaving altogether.
Though it’s unfair, when a mother becomes absent from the office—no matter how hard she may actually be working—she could be playing into the assumptions people already had that her family will take precedence over her work. Women with a flexible schedule are seen as being less dedicated and less motivated to advance in their careers. Employees who work remotely get lower performance reviews and get fewer raises and promotions. Whether warranted or not, many people still see face time as an indicator of how hard a person works. Programs like the ones Vodafone and PowerToFly are offering could end up further sidelining mothers, not serving them.
Mothers who aren’t in the office don’t just end up making themselves invisible. They also stand out as being different than everyone else. Policies that give them even more ways to be absent—shorter workweeks only for them, flexible schedules, or working from home—serve to put mothers in a separate category, rather than better integrating them and their needs into the workplace.
So the question must be asked as to why only one gender is being offered these ways out. Men are actually rewarded at work when they have children, and they aren’t expected to change their work habits when they have kids. But fathers are increasingly worried about work/life balance and interested in being involved parents. Why shouldn’t Vodafone offer new dads the same reduced schedule? Why shouldn’t a startup aim to connect all parents with remote jobs? Until fathers are also seen as and act like working parents, mothers will be singled out as different.
And parents aren’t the only ones who need to work less. The 40-hour workweek is a thing of the past; Americans work longer hours than many developed peers whose economies are just as robust. Why even target parents with these policies instead of thinking of ways to reduce hours while keeping productivity high?
I have all the sympathy in the world for women looking at a set of tough choices and concluding they’ll be better off working from home or reducing their hours. It’s understandable that these options can help make a stressful time less stressful. And I’m not one to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. But sometimes our individual solutions make progress toward more lasting, important change harder to achieve. The more we take mothers out of the workplace, the more they keep being put in a category all by themselves.
Read Next: Bryce Covert on what’s wrong with #LeanInTogether
Sheryl Sandberg has a new target demographic: men.
On Wednesday night, Lean In launched a new campaign called Lean In Together. While Sandberg’s original exhortation was for women not to “leave before they leave” their jobs even if they have or might have children, now the organization wants to support and promote “men leaning in for equality.”
Including men is essential if women are going to get closer to equality. As Lean In’s president Rachel Thomas told Bloomberg News, there’s no way “we can get to true equality if men don’t actively participate.” They are, after all, not just half the workforce and half of the world’s parents; they also still hold the most powerful positions in business and politics. On an individual level, family life is a zero-sum game: someone has to feed and bathe the kids at night, arrange the play dates and doctors’ appointments, and make sure the house is clean. Currently, that someone is still overwhelmingly female. If men were to take on more of the unpaid housework, that would free up more of women’s time to spend on paid employment and they wouldn’t have to so often interrupt their careers to have families.
Lean In Together is basically telling men to “lean out” without saying as much. In a video released as part of the campaign launch, Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and former Justice Sandra Day O’Connor talk about how their husbands stepped back from their careers to support their ambitious wives. Condoleezza Rice’s father left his university job at the same school as his wife when they got married to avoid a nepotism rule. Others talk about the fathers who spent time raising them and encouraging them. The language the campaign uses, however, is not about leaning out. It’s trying to tell men they can have it all, if “all” means gaining equality while not giving anything up.
Clearly men still need to be convinced to support the basic proposition of fairness. While there is a growing desire among fathers to spend more time with their children and achieve better work/life balance, women are still spending twice the amount of time on childcare and housework. So, maybe men need to be sweet talked into it and promised special treats for doing the bare minimum. In an op-ed to help announce the campaign, Sheryl Sandberg and co-author Adam Grant write, “Some men might wonder whether these benefits…for women[ ] might come at their individual expense.” They answer resoundingly and reassuringly: “No. Equality is not a zero-sum game.”
But gender equality is not all going to be all sunshine and roses for men. Even the video starts to hint at why. In order for Ginsburg and O’Connor to thrive professionally, it meant their husbands had to scale back their own careers. There are a limited number of hours in the day; many men may have to reduce how much they work to spend more time on tasks at home. On a larger level, for women to make advances, men will have to step back. There are only so many CEO jobs at the largest and most successful companies. There are only so many seats in the Senate. There is just one seat in the White House. If those jobs move from being male dominated to half female, some men lose access to power.
Men also shouldn’t get a treat for embracing basic fairness. In the op-ed, Sandberg and Grant argue that we have to go beyond “the usual focus…on fairness” and “articulate why equality is…the desirable thing for us all.” To all the men reading it, they make many promises: happier marriages, longer lives, and even more sex. If a more balanced, less conflicted partnership “isn’t exciting enough,” they write, men should consider this fact: “Couples who share chores equally have more sex.” One man asked his wife as he picked up a pile of dirty clothes whether he was doing “Lean In laundry,” which apparently means laundry that gets rewarded with sex. Beyond the disturbing, if societally pervasive, idea that sex is a prize women bestow on men and not an act they partake with equal desire, it tells men they are doing something special to be rewarded when they don’t act like lazy children.
Still, Lean In and Sandberg’s focus on men is welcome. Too many of these conversations are by and about women as if fathers don’t exist. But just as the original Lean In was criticized for focusing on the individual over the systemic—it mentions a lack of child care, paid leave, and flexibility at work while spending more time on the “barriers that exist within ourselves”—we have to think about systemic solutions that get men more involved and not just rely on them to voluntarily change our entire society.
One huge piece of that is paternity leave. When men take leave, truly remarkable things happen. They become more invested parents, which means they’re more likely to take on their half of the work raising a child later in its life. It also increases how much time they spend on other household duties, which gives mothers more time to work longer hours at full-time jobs. That also helps boost mothers’ wages.
But men need to be offered paid leave in order to take it and to see that it’s a common practice for other men to leave work when their children arrive. Currently, just 15 percent of American men get paid leave at their jobs.
The tug of war between having a family life and having a career is slowly but steadily becoming understood as not just afflicting women, but both genders. President Obama recognized as much in his recent State of the Union address when he called for affordable child care not to be seen “as a woman’s issue,” but as “the national economic priority that it is for all of us.” Lean In Together is a partial step toward a conversation that is gender neutral. But we can’t sugar coat what it will take to achieve real gender equality at home and at work.
Last weekend, consumers all across America were buying their slice of the 2.2 billion pounds of chocolate that would be sold for Valentine’s Day. For those who make enough income to afford their basic necessities, that necessitates setting aside some of the money they would have normally spent on rent, clothes or regular groceries to buy candies. For the poor, that could mean using some of their meager food-stamp allocation to give a gift to their loved ones.
The latter method, however, riled up some local news stations. “SNAP accepted for Valentine’s Day candy raises questions,” blared a headline for one station in Tennessee. Reporter Felicia Bolton asked two shoppers what they thought about EBT cards being used to buy candy. They didn’t approve: “If it’s supposed to be nutritional, candy’s not really nutritional,” said one. Curt Autry, at the Richmond, Virginia, NBC affiliate, conducted his own investigation into just how much candy comes in baskets that the poor can buy with food stamps.
Food stamp resentment, as Arthur Delaney has coined it, is a year-round phenomenon. It’s when a random shopper decides that he or she has the authority to dictate what poor people buy with the food stamps that come to a tiny bit over $4 a day, on average. The reason: that this food is being bought with “our” tax dollars, so we should have a say in what it can buy.
It’s an old complaint, as Delaney documents. A 1993 Columbus Dispatch letter to the editor decried a recipient who bought “two bottles of wine, steak and a large bag of king crab legs” with food stamps. Beyond candy, steaks and crab legs come up a lot. Texas Representative Louie Gohmert told a story on the floor of the House about a supposed constituent who was buying king crab legs in line ahead of him with an EBT card. “Because he does pay income tax…he is actually helping pay for the king crab legs when he can’t pay for them for himself,” Gohmert claimed. Wisconsin State Representative Dean Kaufert told a similar story, but the person in line watched a food stamp recipient buy “the tenderloin, the porterhouse” with the benefits.
Why do people think they’re entitled to decide how food stamps, in particular, are used? Not all government benefits elicit such feelings. When we give people assistance through the home-mortgage interest deduction, we don’t feel entitled to tell them what house to buy or what neighborhood to live in; when we subsidize a college education through student loans, we don’t tell students what school to go to or what to major in. When we tax capital gains income at a lower rate than income made from labor, we certainly don’t tell those stock pickers what to do with the extra cash.
One big difference is that mortgage and student loan help usually comes in the form of tax credits, part of what political scientist Suzanne Mettler has dubbed the “submerged state.” Benefits delivered through a tax break or subsidy to a private entity, rather than an EBT card or check, are made invisible to those who use them and everyone around them. Even Medicare, one of the largest government programs, is often delivered through private insurance, thus masking the fact that it’s a benefit. Mettler conducted a survey in 2008 that found that, while 57 percent of people said they’d never used a government program, 94 percent of those who denied it had benefited from at least one, usually one that was “submerged.”
The reason people in line at a grocery store get to feel morally superior to someone on food stamps is because she has to whip out a card that tells the world that she gets assistance buying food. No such card exists when applying for a mortgage or getting a federally subsidized student loan.
The other difference, of course, is that food stamps help the poor. (Tax expenditures, including mortgage assistance, overwhelmingly help the wealthy.) And the poor are assumed to be poor because they’re bad with money. More often than not, they’re poor because they can’t get work that pays them enough to not be poor. And they’re not any worse with their money than the rest of the country. In fact, low-income Americans spend larger percentages of their budgets on the necessities like housing, utilities, transportation and home-cooked food. The richest 20 percent spend more on “luxuries” like eating out and entertainment. The rich even spend more of their budgets on alcoholic beverages—so much for poor people’s wasteful spending on fine wine.
The same holds true if you just examine people who receive public benefits like welfare cash assistance, food stamps and Medicaid: they spend a bigger portion of their budgets on food, housing and transportation and a smaller portion on restaurants and movies than the population that doesn’t rely on those benefits. Food stamp use also shows smart budgeting. While it’s not up to date, a survey from the late 1990s found that meats made up more than a third of food stamp purchases, which grains and fruits and veggies made up nearly 20 percent each. Dairy products took up another 12.5 percent. Sweets, on the other hand, came to just 2.5 percent.
Also: being poor doesn’t mean you should be condemned to a life of austerity and abstinence. More than 45 million people live below the federal poverty line, and even more hover close enough to it that they struggle to get by. More people are slipping downward as income inequality stretches the distance between them and the very top. When work doesn’t pay you enough to cover the bills, you should seek out public assistance. But you should also be able to enjoy some of life’s joys—including giving a box of chocolates to a loved one for Valentine’s Day.
Read Next: Bryce Covert on the singing and dancing now required of McDonald’s employees
TV spectators of last night’s Super Bowl were treated to many slick, high-concept ads, but one probably stuck out to the millions of McDonald’s employees who were watching: the company’s spot trumpeting its new “pay with lovin’” campaign. The company is rolling out a new way to bribe customer loyalty amid declining sales by randomly picking some who will get their food and drink for free. Instead of money, they have to pay with “lovin.’”
According to the Super Bowl ad, this can range from being told by the cashier to call your mother and tell her you love her (no word on what happens if you don’t have a mother) to being commanded to dance to giving the cashier a fist bump. Leaving aside what customers may think of being asked to perform these tasks in return for their food, little attention is given to the other side of the register: the workers themselves.
McDonald’s employees are notoriously low-paid. Average hourly pay, according to Glassdoor, is $8.25 for a crew member. (It’s just slightly more for the food and beverage industry generally at $8.84.) Even in a low-paid service job, of course, there is a minimum expectation of professional behavior at work that would require being polite and even friendly to customers.
But McDonald’s is now asking its employees to do even more. They have to come up with cutesy tasks for their customers. And if the ad itself is any indication, they can’t just deadpan a request that a family hug. If someone dances, they have to dance too. If someone doesn’t seem too pumped to call his mom, they have to needle him into it. And they have to react with joy when the asked-for response is delivered. The workers are being told to put on a performance for customers in order to get a performance back.
This is a pretty blatant example of emotional labor: the requirement that a low-wage employee not just show up to work and adequately perform her duties, but that she put on a veneer of happiness and cheer for the customer to elicit an emotional response in him. For example, in 2013 Pret A Manger put up on its website (and then subsequently took down) expected “behaviours” its employees were supposed to exhibit, like creating a “sense of fun” and appearing “genuinely friendly.” The ones it wouldn’t allow, on the other hand, were bad moods and acting like they were “just here for the money.” Because ordering a sandwich is now supposed to be a delightful experience, and of course a low-wage clerk is at work for something other than a paycheck.
This is what’s pernicious about emotional labor: it requires poorly paid people to slather a smile onto their face and cover up the real conditions under which they labor. McDonald’s has been one of the fast-food companies hit by massive, repeated waves of labor unrest by striking workers demanding better pay, the ability to form a union and an end to retaliation for their actions. Workers have been vocal about the fact that they and their families can’t survive on the money they make. But the company instead wants its customers to see employees who are genuinely delighted that a mother hugged her son in front of them.
The demand that people perform emotional labor has become more and more widespread: researcher Arlie Hochschild originally estimated a third of all jobs required it in 1983 but that half of them do today. Yet workers don’t get more money when they’re required to do more at a menial job than just show up. Men get a significant wage boost when they move into a job that requires more cognitive labor, but they see a 6 percent pay penalty for moving to one that demands more emotional labor. Women don’t see this penalty, although they do get a boost for cognitive work—likely because we view smiling and catering to a customer’s emotions as women’s work.
Emotional labor can be even trickier for women, however, because it can be seen as an invitation. Waitresses know this conundrum well. If they touch someone or leave a smiley face on a check, they’ll get a bigger tip. But they also might get a pinch in the ass. Working for tips and knowing that putting on a show of friendliness leads to an atmosphere where nearly 80 percent of women say they’ve been sexually harassed by customers.
McDonald’s might want to consider, then, what an invitation to “pay with lovin’” could sound like to a customer in this industry. It was just sued over alleged sexual harassment of its employees by their managers. What does it invite on its workers by asking customers to come up with ways to show their lovin’?
Read Next: Bryce Covert on the mythological war against stay-at-home mothers
It’s a war. It’s playing favorites. It’s harmful and divisive. Conservatives have heard President Obama’s proposal to increase the Child Tax Credit and give working parents an extra bonus and have decided he thinks, in Tim Carney’s words, “Moms who stay at home with their children are less valuable than moms who work for pay.”
Some might say that this tax credit is piddling. Under Obama’s plan, parents would get an extra $3,000 a year to cover childcare, a service that costs more than three times that. But conservatives are miffed that families with one earner and one stay-at-home caretaker get penalized because they can’t get that credit.
What they don’t mention, however, is that families modeled after the 1950s vision of one working parent and one staying at home get plenty of tax preferences. The tax code has marriage penalties and bonuses for joint filers, and couples in which one spouse earns income and the other earns nothing “never incur a marriage penalty and almost always receive a marriage bonus,” according to the Tax Policy Center. This bonus is a remnant of policies that were put into place in the early twentieth century to keep women at home. We haven’t gotten rid of it even though more than 70 percent of mothers of young children are in the labor force. Couples where both spouses earn about the same figure, on the other hand, tend to see a penalty. Even if these couples get Obama’s new Second Earner Tax Credit of $500, it won’t come close to the $2,000-plus bonus that a middle-class married couple with unequal earnings got last year.
And as Josh Barro points out, single-earner households are getting a bonus another way: the labor a mother or father performs in the home caring for a kid or wiping down a counter is unpaid and therefore goes untaxed. When two parents work outside the home and pay someone to watch their children, both those incomes are taxed.
The conservative rush to defend stay-at-home mothers also usually only applies to a certain class of mothers. While the tax code has some benefits for families in which one parent stays home, the welfare system has huge penalties for any poor mother who might make the same choice. Welfare reform in the 1990s instituted stringent requirements that those who get assistance also work. The policy change was aimed at “welfare queens” who supposedly had more and more children to increase their benefits without wanting to work for money. Now, if a poor mother wants some cash assistance, she can’t make the choice to stay home.
And in some states, she also can’t make a choice about how many children to have. In most states, families get more money from the Temporary Assistance for Needy Families program if they have more children. This makes sense, given that it is costly to raise a child. Yet sixteen states have instituted caps on their welfare benefits, refusing to give poor mothers more money if they have more than a certain number of children. The caps were explicitly adopted to try to dissuade poor women from having more babies, although there’s little evidence that they work and people on public assistance have families that are the same size as those who aren’t.
There are policies that could help defray the sky-high cost of parenthood for all family types. One, as pointed out by Matt Bruenig, would be a simple, universal child benefit, paid out to all families for each kid they have as they do in the UK, Canada, and Nordic countries. But to say that giving two working parents a little more help constitutes a war on stay-at-home mothers ignores all the ways we already value—or don’t, depending on whether they’re poor—these women’s choices.
Read Next: Bryce Covert on gender, work and the State of the Union