The Sad Extinction of the American Housewife: Family assult through institutionalized prostitution

I had the fortune of growing up in a time when the women’s liberation movement had not yet taken complete hold. My mother raised me as a traditional housewife and I was able to see firsthand the social destruction that was going on in America as a direct result of progressive social management. Both of my grand parents were farmers and my grandmothers were both traditional women, but outside of that family unit some of my aunts had started experimenting with the whole women’s liberation movement and lectured my mother often of her stupidity in pursuing a life of tradition when the world was on the move. At my school my mother was a room mother and used to make specialized crafts for the kids in my class—which everyone adored. Even thirty years later when I meet someone from back then, they still talk about the nice things my mother did for them when they were in the third grade. Their parents were also experimenting with the whole women’s liberation movement and the kids weren’t getting the nurturing that they needed at home.


This went on for many years; each one as we neared the 1980s became increasingly worse. The pressure on my parents to modernize was intense—it came from all directions—family members, neighbors, and especially peers. For my mother one woman was the most audacious feminist that there was, she was a school substitute teacher and had her children in all the extra curricular activities that they could possibly be involved in, and was a socialite on a scale that most adults in our region knew her name. Because she was always at my school as a substitute she knew my mother well, and there became a competition between the two women as to whom the best mother was—of course this was participated in only by the crazy feminist. My mom was so non-confrontational that she allowed herself to be ridiculed by this and many other women only to vent at home later. My mom had made a value judgment to stay traditional and the world was making it very difficult for her. Eventually she gave in a bit and got a job—as everyone had been telling her to do for years. Seeing how much pressure this one particular feminist rival put on my mother I took it out on her son who was on my soccer team. During a scrimmage I pummeled him, and it was he who gave me the nick-name, “Animal.” I left him damaged with a kick to the face not so much to hurt him, but to hurt his mother. I could see what was going on and I didn’t like it.


Back then there was an experimental neighborhood in Lakota named Dutchland Woods, which still exists today. It was a very progressive community and featured a White House in the middle of it where social events were conducted. I had several friends who lived there, and most of the families were of the new “dual income” type which meant that when the kids got off school, they didn’t have parents at home until 6 to 7 PM at night. It was the strangest thing during summer break, it was like a land of kids running the whole community—it was literally like a Charlie Brown cartoon where adults didn’t exist. My first girl friend lived there—a cute little girl from the fourth grade who was already letting boys feel her out even before she had breasts to feel. Sex was the predominate activity in Dutchland Woods as there wasn’t anything else for the kids to do. Everybody dated everybody else and the sexual standards of the entire community were notoriously lowered. Not one child raised in that neighborhood, my friends included grew up healthily to live productive lives—and there were a lot of kids. I could see it from the measuring stick of a traditional household where the father went away, made all the money, and mom took care of the house and everything in it—particularly the children. It was easy to see even during the 80s that Dutchland Woods as a social experiment was a disaster. These days it is a community of starter homes for parents looking for entry into the Lakota school district without the high price of the newer neighborhoods—every one of them built-in the same social philosophy as that experimental neighborhood from the 80s was. Thirty years later there are no more housewives, only a massive society of parents who are all dual income households leaving children to raise themselves—and the results are predictably disastrous.   There are a few women who stay home with their kids, but most of them these days are so socially insecure because of the social pressure to embrace progressive feminism that they seek to show their stripes in other ways—by hosting every Tupperware party offered to them, participating in every True Romance gatherings they’re invited to, and supporting school levies to show how much they value “education.” They become like the idiots in the opening video—cannon fodder for social experimentation that has failed.


When I met my wife, she was one of those rare people who lived that busy life—only she had the fortune of being raised by a great-grandmother, at least during her formative years. She lived in a big house and came from a family that was very successful, financially and socially. We were married at the Becket Ridge Country Club back when it was the premier social gathering place in the area. My wife hated that life and was looking for a way out of the downward spiral that was consuming all her friends. She lived in Rolling Knolls, which is still considered a respectable neighborhood. During the 80s it was considered wealthy, and I knew many of the kids who lived there as well. It was essentially like Dutchland Woods only on a more epic scale—kids ran the whole community during the day, sex was easy—way too easy—drinking, drugs, and other forms of disgusting behavior was the norm. The parents were too tired to do anything about anything by the time they came home from work—so nothing ever got addressed. My wife did not want that life, so when we found each other with her still in high school, the fireworks of social pressure began early as her life was planned out for her quite extensively—more along the lines of what the rest of society was doing reflected in the neighborhoods of Rolling Knolls and Dutchland Woods. Both of us wanted a different life than the one that was being offered so we married early and started our own family.

For over 25 years virtually every family member we have had no matter where they live in the country has attempted to coax my wife into “getting a job.” Well, this has been a problem because she has a job which I consider extremely valuable. Being a housewife if done properly is the most important job in the world. Of the three children my mother had, not a single one has emotional difficulties of any kind, and are quite successful people. They may not be as traditional as me, but they are successful in their own ways, and are certainly great parents themselves. We have a uniquely good family free of alcoholics, jail birds, and abusive personalities largely because my mother was there to raise her kids the right way—without outside progressive influence. My wife and I always strove to do better than that—and we have. I stood in support of what my wife wanted to do as a traditional housewife for many years and when family members became too pushy, we showed them the door. I simply don’t stand for it, and have supported my wife in her decisions—because in a lot of ways I wanted it as much if not more than she did. I wanted my children to know they had a mother always at home to help launch them into their lives. The net result is that my kids are two of the sanest people in our family and all the families they grew up knowing. This is not an accident. It’s a product of a good family that provides emotional strength instead of corrosive tumult self-induced by social neurosis. It was far from easy—in fact I’d say it was one of the hardest things to do that I’ve ever had to do—but it was certainly worth doing.

I have always viewed having a job as a secondary importance outside of a family. Jobs come and go, but a family is something that stays with you during an entire life-time. The job that really counts is the one that is done at home. Getting a job and obtaining income only fuels the life at home. The identity of ones existence is not the job itself and if it is—that is a bad parent. When all those people called my wife on the phone telling her that she needed to get a job to have social value—they were telling her that the work she was doing at home was meaningless without the positive appraisal of her peers. Even after our children were raised, my wife has still stayed home because we like it that way. When a person has a job, they sell a part of themselves toward the institutional aims of their employer. This is simply prostitution of a different type. People are being paid to trade their time for money and the false premise that is so popular today is that in this exchange success is in having the larger check book because peer judgment is all important. Well, I never forgot the trouble my mother had, so I never put such pressure on my wife’s shoulders. I don’t care the least about peer review, and I care less about what the national unemployment numbers are based on government statistics. If I had it my way every household that has children in it would designate one parent to stay home with their children and operate their homes like a business. The unemployment numbers then would be disastrously high as there would be suddenly many unfilled jobs. But most jobs these days are overfilled, just to fill the needs of a progressive society and their obsession with peer review—as if consensus can erase the sins of their terrible parenting ability and the many screwed up children they produced who grow up to become complete idiots.


If I had to do it all over again—in how we raised our kids, I wouldn’t change a thing. I had to work a lot more than usual to make it happen, but I always considered outside employment to be less valuable than inside the home employment. I never thought to tell my wife that “I make all the money and you have to do as I say.” It has never crossed my mind—because the work at home that she did with my children was much more important than making something new that would be sold to consumers in a global economy. Our lives are more important than any “service to society.” Hell with society, the world would be a whole lot better if more housewives took pride in their work in the house caring for their young than pandering to the idiots who think Fifty Shades of Grey is a great book as they lock themselves in the bathroom reading it after a long day at work pretending to be busy. I’ve done just about every kind of job there is to do over the last thirty years, and most jobs are unnecessary. Children are more important.


If you really love a person, how could you want them to serve others in exchange for money at the expense of time not spent toward family pursuits? Even now that my wife and I are empty nesters, my wife is free to meet with my daughters for lunch, or to go shopping during the week and on the weekends she is free to spend time with me. Parents who are always busy doing their own thing have a poor quality of life and that hasn’t changed over the years. It was like that when feminism started robbing mothers from the homes of children during the 70s and 80s—and it is worse now than it’s ever been. There aren’t any laws that politicians can come up with to fix the situation, and there isn’t any education that will solve the problem either. The abandonment of the American Housewife has been one of the worst decisions that was ever made. I have thought that for many years now, and feel more strongly about it now than I did as a young person. For all those people who tried to talk my wife into getting a job and selling herself like a Vegas whore to social pressure—I’m so glad she didn’t listen. It would have been a terrible decision. I used to say that “advice is only as good as the person who gives it,” well that is never more true. When people call and ridicule you for doing something you know is right, look at their life and decide if they are really happy and successful. If they aren’t hang up the phone and get away from them. They are more destructive than helpful.

Just because the masses of society believe something, does not mean that it’s good, or helpful. The abandonment of the American Housewife is proving to be detrimental to the continuation of our culture. Every supporter of progressive expansion of women’s liberation has only thrown housewives out of the home and into the meat grinder of social servitude leaving children at home alone to raise themselves based on primal instinct. Once a young girl is felt up and pranced naked in front of a boy well before they even reach the age of sexual awareness, that girl will grow up into a wreck of a young lady, and the kids she has will end up being raised in chaos at a local day care facility. The chain reaction of mental destruction begins in those unsupervised summer days where parents are busy in service to dollars through institutionalized prostitution. The next door neighbor might be impressed with the new car, or the wardrobe bought at Nordstrom’s, but the kids are suffering and will grow up to become idiots. Because the American Housewife is nowhere to be found—except in my home—and a few others scattered about as rare as gold supporting the money the Federal Reserve prints to paper during periods of quantitative easing.

Rich Hoffman