Home Through the Ages

When darkness clouds my mind and anxiety grips me, my thoughts torn to the one constant comfort in my life: home. Home, however abstract the term, provides unsurpassable solidarity for each individual. Though many may illustrate their home differently, I have found such definitions to be inherently similar, save for specifics. Similarities between my definition and those of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s all echo true, even as I contrast my thoughts. This important aspect of life retains significant meaning and influence.

My definition of home is as versatile as all others. Simple and uncomplicated, my home comprises itself from a genteel space and loving relationships. This plain space where I live, eat, and rest creates a perfect haven of comfort. As an introvert, I enjoy the solitude brought on by the walls surrounding me, as it provides an escape from harsh thoughts and demanding voices. Though I hold this seclusion dear, my home comprises more than a space. In order to fully thrive, I require my loved ones to always welcome me with warmth and acceptance. Embraced by these welcoming arms my fears and insecurities burn into nothingness, filling me with an unbreakable solace. Here with my loved ones I can welcome new thoughts and perspectives without bias and fear, always looking toward the future. Home seems to follow me, forming wherever I reside, this versatile idea of a simple space and loving relationships applicable everywhere.

For the 1950s, home was more set in its physical form as security in the shape of suburban domesticity. During this early Cold War era, fear began its course in the United States, insecurities growing as Russia broke America’s dearly held monopoly on the atomic bomb. Amidst growing anxiety and terror Americans clung to the traditional values of home and domestic lifestyle. The nuclear family was the resulting pinnacle placing emphasis on the perfect family and home, such “…reflected to some extent the desire for security amid anxieties about the cold war and nuclear menace” (Roark et. al p. 1004) Popular culture celebrated traditional family life where the man made the money and woman makes the home, practically clinging to an outdated ideology in hopes it would provide long standing security in the face of the nuclear threat. Security, however misplaced was the single idea of the fifties.

Home tends to be the place people feel the safest. This is especially true for the 1950s, where home security provided an escape from frightening possibilities through the clinging of traditional values. These ideals could not protect families from nuclear attack, even though such a false sense of security did prevent mass hysteria when facing fears of mutually assured destruction. Strangely enough, I used to have the same belief that my home could protect me from any threat, physical or mental. However I was disillusioned when, home alone, a loud crash shocked me from my room. Seeing the two teens who had kicked my door in brought me to a state of frozen shock. Luckily, the duo fled once they realized the house wasn’t exactly unoccupied at the moment. My home quickly became corrupted, leaving me to grow hateful and distrusting of any stranger who crossed my path. Soon enough, my anger cooled as I realized how necessary such a disillusionment was for me to continue on in life, knowing that my home was not impregnable to all the forces of hate and that it was simply just another factor of the world. The illusion of security through domesticity and conformity of the ‘50s suffered a disillusionment that led to the ‘60s.

With the birth of the 1960s, home molded to a different form, one that was a far cry from security capitulated from domesticity. With this era the concepts of relationships in home became more important to its definition than its actual physical embodiment. Relationships such as these endowed unto individuals the support necessary to thrive. Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle illustrated the early ‘60s standards of home. At the time of publication, the Civil Rights Movement was in full bloom where civil disobedience was used to prove important disparities. At the time, it was a truly chilling tale where majority of population conformed to the status quo, especially with the village poised against the Blackwood family. The Blackwood sisters and their Uncle Julian were outcasts of the village, shunned and mocked. One day, cousin Charles came looking for the wealth hidden in the Blackwood mansion, and with little care he accidentally sets the Blackwood house aflame. As the Blackwood mansion burned down, remnants marking the history of the Blackwood family line became but ashes in the smoke. Soon after, the sisters returned to the remains of what once constituted as their home. There, Constance worries and frets as she dresses her younger sister, Mary, quietly blaming herself for their newfound poverty. It was then that she assumed their former, comfortable way of life resided as an exceptionally important factor of their lives. Though in some cases it was, living in the shell of their manor was not as horrible as it first appeared. Mary Katherine realizes this, consoling her sister with the simple phrase “We are going to be very happy, Constance… we are going to be very happy.” (Jackson p. 136) For Mary, no one in the world was as important as Constance, not even what remained of the duo’s family. As long as the two were together, they could always be on the ‘moon,’ Mary’s perfect haven far away from the anger of reality. With the Blackwood mansion destroyed, the sisters were given a new start, free from the constraints of the village and society as they knew it. No longer was it necessary to interact with those who hated them for so long and attacked with harsh words. They lived happily, watching from inside their new home, always and forever on the moon. While Oedipas Mass didn’t exactly have a new start on the moon, she had a sight into her life through one man. Here, this mid-60s book reaches out to the branch of protest movements at the time, clinging to a single ideology and desire. The protest movements regarding the Vietnam war fueled a sense of identity crisis throughout the world, much as Oedipas endures through the book. Pierce Inverarity left a legacy that was far more important than his investments. Her deceased lover left her his estate, granting his mistress all his belongings that inevitably guided her to the start of strange expedition. This loveless character’s journey in executing Pierce’s will led Mrs. Mass on a chase after the underground mail conspiracy known as The Tristero. Quickly addicted to this mystery, Oedipas practically clings to the idea of it as merely a conspiracy set up by Pierce, almost as if he were still alive and mocking her. Contemplating this, she muses that “she had dedicated herself, weeks ago, to making sense of what Inverarity had left behind, never expecting that the legacy was America.” (Pynchon p. 147) All of his estate was foreign to her, and she sought answers in what he left behind. She clung to Pierce, as it was crucial to herself. She knew that, when alive, he could have whisked her away from suffering, rescuing her from reality like Repunzel’s prince in her highest tower. Inverarity was always her supporting force. These single individual people were the most important factors comprising home in the ‘60s.

Rather idyllically these single people had great sway over one’s dictation of home. For Mary, Constance comprised the entirety of her home. Through thick and thin, her big sister’s constant presence brought Mary the greatest happiness. Together, they were always on the moon, far from the cruel reality. Oedipas focused on Pierce and his legacy, so much so that it bordered on obsession. All of her hopes and desires were invested in his memory. While my home does center on those around me, I do not venerate one person as my entire supporting system. Once I believed I could and was quickly led into a suicidal state, clinging to them desperately. Through this I realized my home needed to encumber more than one individual to welcome and love me. Home cannot simply be the self and one other.

People of the times also began to realize this, stretching the definition to include the love of freedom and family. In the seventies family and loved one’s provided closeness and security while individuals were allowed to seek their own lives. This era was not exactly a time of upheaval but a wave of feminism washed over the nation quite strongly. In the book The Stepford Wives one can see the impact of the decade though Joanna and her husband, Walter, in its first few pages. When Joanna offers a short autobiography to Stepford’s Welcome Wagon lady, she proclaims that she is not only a sem-professional photographer, but also “… interested in politics and in the Women’s Liberation Movement. Very much so in that. And so is my husband.” (Levin p. 2) the Welcome Wagon lady responds with a simple “He is?” This quote shows how Walter not only gave her the independence to take an active role in politics, but supported her in gaining more freedoms despite those who still remained biased in the face of feminism. The two stood side by side as equals for the same cause as they moved to Stepford. Encouragement from family provides a great deal of support in the advancement of one’s life.

This independence tastes wonderful. Much as Joanna, I enjoy the freedom to explore and find my passions and rights. I do as much with the support of my loved ones in all of my escapades. However, where Joanna knows exactly what she wants to accomplish, I have become lost. I used to have a pushing influence that inspired me to certain goals, however I found that when the insistence from outside forces became a quiet murmur I found myself lost without a guide. I enjoy the ability to do as I wish, but I do not know where I am headed in life with only the welcoming support to guide me.

The wives of Stepford were unknowingly guided to their doom. Soon Joanna realizes the suburbs to be counteractive to her ideals of home. One by one, the photographer’s few friends transform into mere status quo accessories. In reaction to feminist reform, the Men’s Association hoped to return the male dominance of society through patriarchical Stepford, via the recreation of their wives. Home was domesticity, and they sought the security of retaining their power. Joanna, however, does not know this and makes few friends with the Stepford wives, save for those who have yet to be turned. On her first meeting with Bobbie, Mrs. Markowe begins the encounter with the exclamation, “What a pleasure to see a messy kitchen! … it doesn’t quite come up to mine – you don’t have the little peanut-butter handprints on the cabinets – but it’s good, it’s very good. Congratulations.” (Levin p. 18) This little freedom of imperfection brought the duo happiness and soon they found time to spend with each other away from the perfect little hausfrau’s of Stepford. However, after a get away with her husband, Bobbie has been replaced with a robot, and Joanna notes the drastic change. When the photographer goes to visit Bobbie in the woman’s “immaculate kitchen,” Mrs. Markowe states “Yes, I have changed. I realized I was being awfully sloppy and self-indulgent. It’s no disgrace to be a good homemaker. I’ve decided to do my job conscientiously, the way Dave does his, and to be more careful about my appearance.” (pg. 82) Bobbie turned into the hausfrau they had both avidly avoided. Such a transformation to a conformity of male commercial standards appalled and confused Joanna. The Men’s Association, however, found it all in their plan to return to the standards of ‘50s domesticity with little hassle.

Change – or conformity – happens quickest and most strongly in the house and home. In this case, with the robot wives of Stepford. These women were replaced and the standards of their home radically changed. Often, I resist any conformity to a startling degree, rejecting society’s standards and norms set in place for one such as myself. Much like the original Stepford wives, I do not buy into male commercial ideals of womanhood. However, when I find a cause worth fighting for, I will push for change in every aspect of my life and the world. I strive more to make a difference than to accept the status quo, and I always start at home. The biggest changes usually start at home.

Home’s importance can never be downplayed. My versatile definition of home exchanges itself with the definitions from the fifties, sixties, and seventies. However, I do not believe in the absolute security of home as did the 1950s, nor the reliance on solely one individual as in the 1960s. Freedom of exploration has been kind to me, but I need more guidance than those of the 1970s and still yet dislike popular conformity. All of home is similar, as is humanity. Home is omnipresent and forever.


Bibliography

Ira., Levin,. Stepford wives. New York: Perennial, 2002.

Roark, James L., et. al. The American Promise: A History of the United States, Volume C From 1900. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2008.

Shirley, Jackson. We Have Always Lived in the Castle. New York: Penguin Group, 2006.

Thomas., Pynchon,. Crying of Lot 49. New York: Perennial Library, 1999.