“You see, at the end of the day, my most important title is still ‘mom in chief.’ My daughters are still the heart of my heart and the center of my world.”
—Michelle Obama, September 2012
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“Talk about strange bedfellows!” exclaimed Myra Gu-tin in an interview with the HPR. Gutin, an historian of first ladies and professor at Rider University, was responding to First Lady Michelle Obama’s recent declaration that Jacqueline Kennedy and Eleanor Roosevelt are the two first ladies she strives most to emulate. Gutin then reiterated what most with a bare bones knowledge of U.S. history already know: “Mrs. Roosevelt and Mrs. Kennedy are pretty far apart.”
In most of her actions as first lady, Obama is caught between the worlds represented by the two women she chose out of our nation’s 46 first ladies. A Princeton graduate and Harvard-educated lawyer who publicly declares herself “mom in chief,” Obama must meet two different sets of expectations. One set comes from those who expect her to perform the more traditional, family-oriented role of first lady—the Jacqueline Kennedy model—and the other from those who seek an activist first lady in the mold of Eleanor Roosevelt or Hillary Clinton.
Perhaps inevitably, the attempt to juggle these roles has marked Obama a failure in the eyes of many, particularly those who wish she would more aggressively embrace the role of activist first lady. This group’s expectations were initially quite high: in an October 2008 USA Today article, Gutin argued that Obama “is a very capable, articulate, bright woman and most likely is going to be an activist first lady.” Gutin and others who agreed with her drew hope from the precedent set by Hillary Clinton, the sense of social change that accompanied the Obamas’ entrance into Washington in January 2009, and Obama’s own high-powered career.
This group has been largely disappointed and is increasingly vocal in its concern. Most notably, Michelle Cottle penned an article in Politico Magazine entitled “Leaning Out: How Michelle Obama became a feminist nightmare.” While Cottle insists that she would never have used such an incendiary title (her editors made the decision), she was far from alone in her message: Obama’s almost exclusively motherly image and focus on non-controversial issues during her husband’s tenure makes her bad for American feminism. Likeminded critics, mostly women, read books like Lean In, a guide to women’s workplace empowerment written by Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, and conclude that their first lady hasn’t been “leaning in” enough to be considered a feminist.
However, these critics may be missing a crucial success of Obama’s tenure as first lady. In maintaining an awareness of her race, following her own instincts, and sticking to her distinct personality, she has been able to supersede the norms and expectations of what a progressive first lady should do and cultivate her own brand of fourth-wave feminism.
This group has been largely disappointed and is increasingly vocal in its concern. Most notably, Michelle Cottle penned an article in Politico Magazine entitled “Leaning Out: How Michelle Obama became a feminist nightmare.” While Cottle insists that she would never have used such an incendiary title (her editors made the decision), she was far from alone in her message: Obama’s almost exclusively motherly image and focus on non-controversial issues during her husband’s tenure makes her bad for American feminism. Likeminded critics, mostly women, read books like Lean In, a guide to women’s workplace empowerment written by Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, and conclude that their first lady hasn’t been “leaning in” enough to be considered a feminist.
However, these critics may be missing a crucial success of Obama’s tenure as first lady. In maintaining an awareness of her race, following her own instincts, and sticking to her distinct personality, she has been able to supersede the norms and expectations of what a progressive first lady should do and cultivate her own brand of fourth-wave feminism.
RACE AND MICHELLE OBAMA
As rebuttals to Cottle’s article have often noted, Obama must grapple with an undeniable aspect of her identity that sets her apart from many American women. Many of the commentators who have defended Obama believe that the challenges posed by her identity as a black woman should inform our understanding and evaluation of her tenure as first lady far more than her gender. In that light, Cottle’s critique misses the constraints and challenges unique to the first black first lady.
Obama is a woman who is intuitively aware of herself—and of her race. In an interview with the HPR, Jodi Kantor, New York Times journalist and author of The Obamas, revealed that the first lady herself has told aides that she is scrutinized more for her clothing choices than a white first lady would be. In constructing her image with a focus on domestic and motherly concerns, Obama may well be responding to the additional pressure created by her historic role as the first black first lady.
Americans, whether they say so or not, are also intuitively aware of Obama’s race—and some still hold her to a different standard because of it. Consider the reaction when Obama rebuffed a heckler at a fundraiser last summer. The heckler, gay-rights activist Ellen Sturtz, said, “She came right down in my face. I was taken aback.” Observers—many from the Left—took to Twitter to cite the first lady’s reaction as unnecessary, even rude. PolicyMic’s Lauren Rankin, who chronicled the incident, later argued that “the response has revealed the troubling reality that if you’re a strong, independent, educated, empowered black woman, you are held to a different standard.” Thus, it is possible that Obama declined to embrace the activist mantle of Hillary Clinton in part because she felt America was not ready for a black woman in that mold. As Rankin accurately noted, the fact that Sturtz was “taken aback” implies an obvious discomfort with Obama’s boldness in speaking to her.
Alternatively, some have argued that Obama seeks not only to avoid being characterized as an “angry black woman,” but also to reinforce a positive and under-emphasized image of a strong, 21st-century, American black family. In an open letter addressed to Cottle and featured on her self-titled television show in November 2013, MSNBC’s Melissa Harris-Perry explained: “[W]hen she calls herself mom-in-chief, she is rejecting a different stereotype—the role of Mammy. She is saying that her daughters—her vulnerable, brilliant, beautiful black daughters—are the most important thing to her. The first lady is saying, ‘You, Miss Ann, will have to clean your own house, because I will be caring for my own.’”
As rebuttals to Cottle’s article have often noted, Obama must grapple with an undeniable aspect of her identity that sets her apart from many American women. Many of the commentators who have defended Obama believe that the challenges posed by her identity as a black woman should inform our understanding and evaluation of her tenure as first lady far more than her gender. In that light, Cottle’s critique misses the constraints and challenges unique to the first black first lady.
Obama is a woman who is intuitively aware of herself—and of her race. In an interview with the HPR, Jodi Kantor, New York Times journalist and author of The Obamas, revealed that the first lady herself has told aides that she is scrutinized more for her clothing choices than a white first lady would be. In constructing her image with a focus on domestic and motherly concerns, Obama may well be responding to the additional pressure created by her historic role as the first black first lady.
Americans, whether they say so or not, are also intuitively aware of Obama’s race—and some still hold her to a different standard because of it. Consider the reaction when Obama rebuffed a heckler at a fundraiser last summer. The heckler, gay-rights activist Ellen Sturtz, said, “She came right down in my face. I was taken aback.” Observers—many from the Left—took to Twitter to cite the first lady’s reaction as unnecessary, even rude. PolicyMic’s Lauren Rankin, who chronicled the incident, later argued that “the response has revealed the troubling reality that if you’re a strong, independent, educated, empowered black woman, you are held to a different standard.” Thus, it is possible that Obama declined to embrace the activist mantle of Hillary Clinton in part because she felt America was not ready for a black woman in that mold. As Rankin accurately noted, the fact that Sturtz was “taken aback” implies an obvious discomfort with Obama’s boldness in speaking to her.
Alternatively, some have argued that Obama seeks not only to avoid being characterized as an “angry black woman,” but also to reinforce a positive and under-emphasized image of a strong, 21st-century, American black family. In an open letter addressed to Cottle and featured on her self-titled television show in November 2013, MSNBC’s Melissa Harris-Perry explained: “[W]hen she calls herself mom-in-chief, she is rejecting a different stereotype—the role of Mammy. She is saying that her daughters—her vulnerable, brilliant, beautiful black daughters—are the most important thing to her. The first lady is saying, ‘You, Miss Ann, will have to clean your own house, because I will be caring for my own.’”
THE FOURTH-WAVE FIRST LADY
Still, perhaps the crucial distinction is not Obama’s race, but the fact that she turned 50 years old in January, not 60 or 70. Liza Mundy, author of Michelle, believes that to be both professionally successful and a proud “mom in chief” is characteristic of Obama’s generation. In an interview with the HPR, Mundy contrasted this with the previous generation—the Hillary Clinton generation—of working women who “couldn’t even have photos of their kids on their desks, had to prove their professional credentials, and really downplay their family commitments and be careful not to describe themselves as moms.”
First-wave feminism garnered the 19th Amendment. The second-wave feminism of the 1960s through the 1980s saw women entering the professional workforce and, in many ways, trading their aprons for pantsuits. “Third-wave feminism,” coined in 1992 by Rebecca Walker, a young African-American bisexual woman, takes care to incorporate all the diverse voices of the movement, including non-white women and non-straight women.
Obama, on the other hand, belongs to a generation of fourth-wave feminists who see themselves as free to focus more on family life and traditional feminine roles, while still implicitly embodying professional success and power. While Cottle analyzes Obama through a second-wave lens, and Harris-Perry pigeonholes her into a third-wave framework, Obama herself personifies a fourth-wave conception of feminism. In this model of feminism, women do not need to appear a certain way in public to earn respect. Power can be wielded privately if that is what a woman chooses.
A fourth-wave-feminist understanding of Obama changes—but does not negate—our understanding of her as a powerful force in American politics. Kantor draws a key distinction: “She doesn’t engage that heavily with the work of the administration, but she is deeply engaged with what her husband is doing as president … behind the scenes.” A fourth-wave feminist can choose to have an informal advisory role without setting feminism back. Kantor believes that Obama “cares deeply about” her husband’s initial mission to be a change agent in Washington and in some ways strives behind closed doors to protect the authenticity of that vision. As Kantor concludes, “it’s personal between the two of them.”
Still, perhaps the crucial distinction is not Obama’s race, but the fact that she turned 50 years old in January, not 60 or 70. Liza Mundy, author of Michelle, believes that to be both professionally successful and a proud “mom in chief” is characteristic of Obama’s generation. In an interview with the HPR, Mundy contrasted this with the previous generation—the Hillary Clinton generation—of working women who “couldn’t even have photos of their kids on their desks, had to prove their professional credentials, and really downplay their family commitments and be careful not to describe themselves as moms.”
First-wave feminism garnered the 19th Amendment. The second-wave feminism of the 1960s through the 1980s saw women entering the professional workforce and, in many ways, trading their aprons for pantsuits. “Third-wave feminism,” coined in 1992 by Rebecca Walker, a young African-American bisexual woman, takes care to incorporate all the diverse voices of the movement, including non-white women and non-straight women.
Obama, on the other hand, belongs to a generation of fourth-wave feminists who see themselves as free to focus more on family life and traditional feminine roles, while still implicitly embodying professional success and power. While Cottle analyzes Obama through a second-wave lens, and Harris-Perry pigeonholes her into a third-wave framework, Obama herself personifies a fourth-wave conception of feminism. In this model of feminism, women do not need to appear a certain way in public to earn respect. Power can be wielded privately if that is what a woman chooses.
A fourth-wave-feminist understanding of Obama changes—but does not negate—our understanding of her as a powerful force in American politics. Kantor draws a key distinction: “She doesn’t engage that heavily with the work of the administration, but she is deeply engaged with what her husband is doing as president … behind the scenes.” A fourth-wave feminist can choose to have an informal advisory role without setting feminism back. Kantor believes that Obama “cares deeply about” her husband’s initial mission to be a change agent in Washington and in some ways strives behind closed doors to protect the authenticity of that vision. As Kantor concludes, “it’s personal between the two of them.”
Seen in this light, Obama’s focus on her family and her role as “mom in chief” may reflect not only political considerations but also what truly interests her. For example, Mundy does not believe that Obama was ever very career-driven, even before entering the White House. She explains that the Princeton student Obama probably went to law school because it was a cultural norm for graduates at the time: Obama and her brother, Craig Robinson, “had come from a very working-class household, and they were the first generation of African-Americans who had access to things like corporate law and Wall Street.”
As a fourth-wave feminist, Obama can be her own version of Eleanor Roosevelt—a private, well-educated force who does care, and who takes the management of her first-ladyship into her own hands. At the same time, Obama—with toned arms, well-coifed hair, and a floral-print dress—can perform the “mom in chief” role reminiscent of Jackie Kennedy. The duality does not make her any less of a woman, African-American, mother, or wife. If anything, Michelle Obama’s choices as first lady and the complexity of her persona are her defining characteristics.
As a fourth-wave feminist, Obama can be her own version of Eleanor Roosevelt—a private, well-educated force who does care, and who takes the management of her first-ladyship into her own hands. At the same time, Obama—with toned arms, well-coifed hair, and a floral-print dress—can perform the “mom in chief” role reminiscent of Jackie Kennedy. The duality does not make her any less of a woman, African-American, mother, or wife. If anything, Michelle Obama’s choices as first lady and the complexity of her persona are her defining characteristics.
