For those of you interested in following the debate over my call to women to get to work, here are some of the letters that came in this week. You will see I am not culling for criticism or support, but to paint a picture of the kinds of arguments that constitute the current state of the debate, at least among people who bother to write.

Ladies Who Law School engendered a clear subset of the letters, so I will set them out separately.

LADIES WHO LAW SCHOOL

One "Murphy," who calls himself "Journalist Dad," writes:
"Has it occurred to you that perhaps you don't understand your critics? You're assuming they don't understand you.

Maybe your book is "hard" because you didn't write it clearly. I know few lawyers who would get any sympathy arguing that the jury simply failed to understand them. It's a lawyer's job to make them understand.

Maybe the successful lawyers writing angry letters to you have a sense of empathy for their peers who have opted out, and they're simply citing their own job status to say, "Hey, I'm a successful female partner sticking with this profession, and I STILL think you're wrong!"

And maybe your way of thinking here is predicated on the false notion that education is failing if the number of people staying in a narrowly defined field 10 years down the road is anything less than 100 percent. No system of education or apprenticeship sees every student or apprentice stick with the job for life.

And why 10 years? Why not 20? If a woman pays a refund at 10 years, then goes back into legal practice five years later with a renewed sense of purpose she would not have had without her break, can she get her money back?

I could go on and on, but I'll limit myself to one more -- what about women who START law school at age 40? Should they pay the state for the 15 years of lost productivity from age 25 to 40?"

* * *

So, is journalist Dad correct that I don't write clearly enough for lawyers to understand my arguments?

Here are the other letters that came in this week about my proposal that law school graduates who aren't using their professional education refund the cost of their education that is not covered by tuition (whether tuition is paid outright or by loans).

One Jewell Allston writes:

"What would be interesting is if you in fact are married, have or has raised children while actually working in your profession. Maybe you didn't make the cut in "the very inefficient" program called THE DATING GAME and are miffed. Maybe you didn't get your MRS degree because no MR's were interested. Unless these ladies you are dissin' went to school for free they have paid their debts...it's called repaying student loans. Since you want to be a social voice for the tax payer you can start by paying my tuition to law school. I plan on using whatever money I can find and go to whatever school accepts me (public or private). You needn't worry about wasting your money because my kids are almost grown and I will not be having anymore. I hope you didn't take time off of work or use the firms computer to write any of this. What would the tax payers say then? I would say get your misguided behind back to work and get a life. If men are paying attention/sleeping with you now it's because the balls you think you have are still called tits and ass.

From what I've researched, women still have a harder time getting the pay and the recognition for doing the same and even better job than their male counterparts. You've made a choice to practice law and write this article. Some women made a choice to have children after law school. Whose to say who made the better choice?

I am looking forward to reading your book but you get no real points...sell out.

Jewell"

From this I would conclude that Jewell Allston is not only incapable of reading my books or articles, she cannot even digest the elementary biographical material on the website to which she wrote, which says:

"I have had two husbands, including the present one, a biological daughter and two stepdaughters and one standard poodle, Alexis de Tocqueville. The three daughters have, among them, four graduate degrees and three jobs."

ditto with a practicing lawyer, Nancy Gergenheimer, who asked "By the way, are you practicing law with your J.D. from the University of Chicago."

Again, from the website, "After college (Cornell University, B.A. with honors) and law school (University of Chicago, J.D.), I practiced law for fifteen years, representing working men and women in their labor unions in all sorts of litigation, helping them to keep their jobs, to hang onto their collective bargaining rights and to earn legal overtime pay. As a union side labor lawyer, I participated in three cases in the United States Supreme Court: one win, one loss and one tie. When it became clear in the early eighties that organized labor was beginning its precipitous decline, I took some time out of practicing to teach law school and do some writing on behalf of less powerful people, including an essay on why the abortion movement needs to use moral language to justify its claims, “Bronte, Bloom and Bork: An Essay on the Moral Education of Judges,” published in the University of Pennsylvania Law Review, the first of many articles on behalf of women in situations of need. While teaching law school, I won a national prize for scholarship from the Bar Association and a prize for teaching while visiting at Northwestern."

I leave it up to you, gentle readers, to decide if Journalist Dad is right or if the prose on the website is capable of conveying the information Jewell Allston and Nancy Gegenheimer needed in order to answer their questions without writing to me.

On subjects other than legal education, people wrote:

Linda,

I first saw your name on the cover of the latest edition of "Brain, Child." Then I was on a parenting blog because I work for an organization that provides parenting materials on the first five years and we had a story appearing on the site. I write all that because I don't have much time for reading blogs. "What is the big deal about this Linda Hirshman," I thought. I read a summary of your book and want to thank you for finally giving me a voice.

I have two children under 4, and my youngest is developmentally delayed, likely disabled. I asked my husband to quit his business of 10 years earlier this year to stay home with our youngest and let us cutback on the childcare costs for our oldest. What I didn't spell out specifically for him was the fact that for years my salary has been 4 to 6 times greater than what he's earned running his own small business. Boy did I feel guilty. I was emasculating him, telling him he was a failure. I had already moved to a nonprofit job from the business world to reduce my commute and had taken a $35,000 pay cut for that move but I was still apologetic. None of that grief came from my husband, it all came from my sense that the real option, the best option would be for me to stay at home.

But why would I ? Wouldn't my daughter be better off seeing a working mother? Wouldn't my education, my experience, my creative skills be better used beyond the day-to-day childrearing, especially since we had the means to afford quality 1:1 childcare. I work and I work at home. I am still the primary meal maker and grocery-shopper. I'm the medical manager for my sons special needs, tracking insurance coverage, payments and appointments. I'm the driver on our financial and investment decisions. I'm the primary source of parenting ideas. My husband is a wonderful man and a good father but lawdy-lawdy it would be nice if he was a bit more clued in. Your book starts the dialogue necessary to get more men clued in. I don't scorn stay-at-home moms but I do find it shocking that someone who's put in so much time, effort and money into obtaining a good education and a good job would give it up. There's no easy way back into the workforce. I see that with my friends who did opt-out.

I'm barely a baby boomer. With a 1964 birth date, I boomer by definition but have often been perplexed that the attitudes and values assigned to boomers rarely fit. But I am a feminist. I'm old enough to know that my mother couldn't have achieved what I've achieved. I'm smart enough to recognize equality is still too far away. Unless there's a massive shift on the way, with all those stay at home moms moving back into the workforce and right into senior management, the changes needed to support moms and dads won't take place. Shared jobs, part time work that's valid and valued, honest-to-god maternity and paternity leave, medical insurance that's not tied to the workplace. Those are all the challenges still to overcome.

I'm ranting. I just feel so relieved to be able to put to voice those thoughts I've had for years but didn't have a way to discuss. I'm a working mother and I'm not alone.

and

Question: Dear Linda,
I don't have a question...just comments. I couldn't contact you via the e-mail. I want to thank you for 'Get To Work". I read it in about two hours today (as I allowed my son to watch television...feeling completely guilt free about not entertaining my son ) I can't believe how GOOD your book made me feel.

I am the married mother of a five year old boy. When I became pregnant I was working at a local affiliate for one of the major networks. After my son was born I decided to stay home with him...taking a buyout from my company, I did this partially because I wanted to "raise my own child"...was concerned about child care, thought it didn't make sense to pay so much for a sitter...so much of the stuff you mention in your book. It was also easy to quit my job because I was so dissatisfied at work I had this romanticized notion that staying at home would be more fullfilling. When I told my bosses that I was taking the buyout to raise my son I received praise from them. I was told that I was doing the right thing--after all that's what their wives had done. During the past five years I have worked in my field part-time...including with my former employer. But now I was a part-timer...not to be taken seriously because I left to be a "mommy". I am now desperately trying to get a full time job in my field and see how much harder it is having left to work part-time. I lost my seniority...and the possibility of moving up. I think if your book was out years ago or if some one had talked to me about what happens when you "opt out" I may have made different choices. Or perhaps not...but I just wanted to say that I "get" what you're saying. Thank you...your book is really what I needed at this time in my life.

and

I don't know how you get through the e-mails from women who insist on turning this important debate into childish, ignorant, back-and-forth attacks. I get so frustrated and disillusioned reading these ridiculous comments from women who obviously either have only skimmed your fantastic essay and book or have no reading comprehension skills to speak of!!! Good for you for always doing your research and taking the high road of reason, humor and thoughtful debate.
I am, sort of, one of those mothers of which you speak and write. I graduated from a non-elite college, but I did "choose" to go part-time because that's what I thought I needed to do to be a good mother. It was really just a cop out. I think that's why women get so angry at what you're saying. They're afraid to admit that ugly truth. I'm still on staff at the newspaper where I work, but I cut my hours in half, thereby cutting benefits completely and shrinking my 401K contributions. There are many other downsides -- like feeling invisible at work, understimulated and irrelevant. (Thank God I didn't try to do the "freelance" thing. I would not have had the self-discipline and motivation to do it! I would've become one of those "freelance writers" that you Google, only to learn they've written one article in five years.) I really did it for all the wrong reasons -- the pressure to stay at home is huge in the small town where I live. Plus, I couldn't handle trying to "do it all." Now, thanks to you, I realize I don't have to try to do it all if I insist on a just and fair household. That I'm being unfair to myself and my family to try and do it all. That I can still be a great mom to my kids and work fulltime.
I'm in the process of jockeying to go back fulltime, BTW. Fortunately, I'm married to a great guy who will totally support me. With a little incentive (like no longer knowing where the butter is) I have no doubt our household will quickly evolve into an equal arrangement.
I'm just so glad someone is finally saying what I was thinking all along but was too scared to say it out loud. Your message is so important to the women's movement and the fate of American women. Let me know if there is anything supporters like me can do to help (besides personal accountability).
Rock on, Linda!

My personal favorite:

I've bought two extra copies of your book and sent them to two friends who have just gotten married. They were both enthralled!
Best,

just in:

...thank you, thank you and thank you again. A million times over.

I just finished the book. It's 11:15 p.m. because, as a full-time working mom of two, I read when I get the chance--usually late at night. Such is life.

Your book has changed how I feel about myself as a working mom. I feel empowered. I feel validated. I feel triumphant. And I feel successful. Most important, I feel that my life as a working mom has value outside myself and my family. I feel that what I'm doing as a mom/professional has social significance. For the first time, I feel that I can say out loud to anyone that I'm proud to be a working mom. And for a long time, I've felt mostly ashamed.

I'm 38. Married. Two boys, 8 and 2 (slipped up on that one-child rule!). English degree with honors from the University of Washington. And I am a writer. I started working for the [deleted] 15 years ago, before marriage, before kids. I started out low on the ladder, making $14,000 a year clearing copy machine jams and answering phones. Now, 15 years later, I'm the senior of only two copywriters/technical writers/editors in Marketing Communications for one of the biggest [companies in its field] in the country. I provide my family's health coverage. I make more than my husband. My job has kept us in the Pacific Northwest, through recessions, personal crises and family pressure to move. Whenever my husband suggested moving, my response was, "And what about my job?" That always shut him up. My job supported us during his college years and unemployment. It put him through rehab. It was my rock and sometimes our sole financial support. As a result, I have power.

True, he doesn't do his fair share of the housework or child care. But it's a heady thing to tell him, "Got to go to Idaho for work." Boy, does he snap to. Takes care of the kids, packs the lunches, gets them to school/daycare, etc. Despite his own success, he respects--and envies--me. For the money, for the respect, perks and prestige I have at the office, for the freedom my job gives me. Five years into recovery, he's much better than he used to be, but it's still tough to know that I pull in a lot more money but am still expected to handle the house and the kids most of the time.

I remember clearly walking down a sidewalk in downtown Seattle during a lunch break when it hit me: Feminism got us only so far. It got us into colleges and into the workplace. It got us jobs and opportunities. What it didn't give us was equal partners. Our roles changed, but our husbands' roles didn't. My mother's feminism did only half the work. It's up to my generation, somehow, to finish the job. Up until now, I could only feel the problem, without hope for a solution.

In some cases, I'm the exception that proves your rules. My company offers subsidized (barely) on-site child care. Excellent child care. Montessori-trained professional teachers right across the hall from my office. I was able to work and nurse my babies. I go on field trips with ease. I could dash over to see my sleeping baby or play for a half hour. I can be there in 60 seconds in case of illness or injury. It's the best possible scenario. My oldest was in that daycare for five years. He's a bright, creative, insightful boy. "School" was wonderful for him and for me. I know I'm very fortunate. But if more companies would provide that kind of resource, how wonderful would that be?

I am also fortunate to have a job--and profession--that allows me to work from home when children are sick or schools are closed. I have flexible hours that I can customize to fit my family's schedule and my commute. I can put my eight-year-old on the bus every morning, and twice a week I'm there when it drops him off. I manage all that while also securing promotions, merit raises and respect among my peers and management. It's not easy, but it's possible. Some combination of employer flexibility and personal dedication makes it work well. I wish more women could have it so good.

I know that many don't. I live in an upper-middle-class neighborhood of mostly SAHMs. I have felt defensive most of the time. Very few of us work, and I think I'm the only one who commutes the 30 miles to the city. I don't volunteer in the schools (but I edit and design the PTSA newsletter, so shouldn’t I get points for that?). I don't have playdates. I show up at the bus stop looking less put-together for the office than the SAHMs do for their post-bus trip to the health club. I can't socialize with them because I'm at work during their coffee hour, and our answering machine picks up when little boys call during a summer afternoon to see if my oldest can play. I'm a "working" mom, so I'm on the social fringe here. They look at me with what I think is disdain as I tear out of here every morning on my way to the office. Sometimes--in my weak moments--I feel inferior to them. But in my moments of clarity and of truth, I know that it's more likely that they're envious of me. Of my power, my freedom, my self-sufficiency. They envy my lunchtime shopping trips in the city. My work friendships. My exposure to arts, culture, politics and life in the city. I'm not sucked into the minutiae of suburban life. I have a bigger life outside. And they know it. I tell myself that's why they shun me. I'm different from them. I have a flourishing life.

I mentioned before, however, that I have often felt ashamed for being a working mom. People ask me, "When are you going to quit working and stay home with those beautiful boys?" They ask my husband, "When are you going to let her stay home?" We both get angry. My husband gets angry because he likes that I work! More money for him. He knows I'm happy working. He feels that we're financial partners at least (if not always domestically). In the past, I've felt equal parts guilt and outrage. People assume I don't want to work, and I DO like to work. But the message in our society is that moms belong at home. So although I like to work, I feel like I have to defend my decision to do so. My satisfaction with work, my confidence that my boys are healthy, smart and thriving "despite" daycare, and the power I get from my career have been diluted by this tsk-tsk-tsking from others. I don't think I'll feel any of the guilt anymore, thanks to having read your book. I can see the source of that opinion, and I neither trust nor respect it.

I'm the only full-time working mom in my family who uses professional child care. Sisters and cousins have stay-at-home husbands, part-time jobs, family-provided child care or no job at all. Working mom friends have been quitting or embracing their lay-offs in droves. I didn't understand it. Now I do. And I want to work to reverse the trend. Now I feel justified in saying to myself and to others that it's okay to like working. It's not only okay, it's GREAT to like working.

I'm a writer. When I chose to have children, I didn't choose to stop being me. I get personal satisfaction out of writing for a living. It's why I went to college for in the first place. I'm thrilled to be making a living doing something that I enjoy, that others appreciate, and that uses a talent I was born with. It's cosmically right. To quit and stay home would defy who I am. I enjoy the power my position gives me at the office and at home. I've grown immensely in my career, professionally and personally. It's insulting when people flat out tell me that my family and I would be better off with me at home.

Thank you for writing that book. Thank for you what I call "The Working Mommy's Manifesto." Thank you for putting into words the feelings I've been struggling with for years. And thank you for giving me a new purpose--to help other working moms. Whether it's giving them, as their manager, the job flexibility they need to balance work with family; serving as a mentor to other working women; or just standing up and being a proud working mom in the face of my neighbors, I've promised myself that I will do what I can to help my generation take feminism to the next step.

And if I can manage to show my husband where the dishwasher and the butter are, I'll be a raging success.

With gratitude,

If I didn't receive letters like this every day I'd think they came from a sock puppet ("Lee Siegel is the most brilliant, dashing, funny, etc."). If you ever see letters signed from "Betty Friedan, somewhere in heaven," you'll know I could not resist creating a sock puppet. But otherwise, this is just the business I have chosen.