The motion: A woman's proper place is in the kitchen

For the affirmative side, Anne Golden

Before I begin to speak, I would like to say a few words. First of all, I want to recognize the immense amount of dedication and energy that Peter Oliver and his assistants have poured into this now high-profile event, and to say how pleased I am to have joined the exclusive group of people singled out for the honour of addressing the Leacock club. I would also like to thank Bob Rae for nominating me for this role - but, I will wait to thank him until after the debate, at which point it will be clear whether or not it was the excellent idea it seemed to be when I so insouciantly accepted four months ago.
You know, considering tonight's topic, it is rather ironic that I am proposing the motion here in Hart House. When I was a student at this university, Hart House was off bounds to women. In fact, my husband Ron's slogan, when running for the House Committee was "Keep the doors of Hart House too heavy for women to open". Strangely, at the time, I felt no resentment, and was quite happy with my permitted access to the basement cafeteria, where I have many consoling memories of the world's best butter tarts.

It is customary to begin a debate by stating the resolution and defining one's terms. The resolution is: A Woman's Proper Place is in The Kitchen, which I take to mean a Woman's Place is in the Home, and not the marketplace. I think I should say at the outset that this topic was proposed by the gentlemen who oppose the resolution. This is the kind of theme that gentlemen find to be a rich source of humour. That is because, being men, they have no stake in the outcomes. But, we women take these issues rather seriously; we are emotionally invested in the question. How, I asked myself, was I, a woman who has obviously spent her life in direct contradiction to the thesis that a woman belongs primarily in the home to be true to my own values, to justify my own life choices, and be a proper advocate at the same time.

Laws are made to be broken, I reminded myself. There are exceptions to every rule. So yes, A Woman's Proper Place is in the Kitchen. But some women, through accident, carelessness, or seductively lucrative job offers, do not find themselves in the kitchen. They are exiles, displaced persons. They live in a diaspora of true womanhood, yearning to return home. These ex-patriots try to make the best of things, but if you surprise them at their makeshift lives, in a reflective moment between delivering supreme court judgements, say, or resting up from the rigours of the Hawaii Ironman, or composing an outline for their latest novel, you may catch a look of wistful unfulfillment, and you will know that it is then that they are mourning the lost opportunity to bring to fruition that definitive batch of sweet potato ravioli with pine nuts…

In my own humble way, I am a member of that lost tribe of women. From time to time I visit my kitchen, to recapture the thrill of citizenship in my usurped kingdom. It's a very nice kitchen, you know, but my husband, who took possession of it when I was distracted writing my Ph.D. thesis, is quite strict about maintaining his supremacy in it. I feel that he became very punitive when I once attempted to transfer the lessons of time-management I had learned in the outside world to following a recipe. My reasoning, and I still stand behind it theoretically in spite of the anecdotal evidence, was that a casserole to be cooked at 400 degrees for ten minutes could be more efficiently completed in one minute at 4000 degrees.

I think it must be admitted that while the population of women as a whole are made by nature to be in the kitchen, there is a subgroup, my own, for whom the law indeed must be broken. My opponents and many of tonight's guests are members of the legal profession and know that the Latin word for law is Lex. So for the many modern women who respect and admire and as often as possible adopt the role of homemaker, yet cannot resist the siren lure of the world outside, I propose the term bi-lexuals.

My name is Anne Golden and I am a bi-lexual. There, I've said it and I feel much better. For those men like our opponents who can only see the question in black and white, who, so typical of the male gender, think there must be a single law that only applies to women, well, gentlemen, I think we would have to say that you are men for whom the world has stood still, you are men who cling to atavistic, vertical hierarchies. In short, gentlemen, you are… homo-lexuals. Not that there's anything wrong with that…

If it were not so politically incorrect to say so, I would admit that I feel some compassion for homo-lexuals. They see life in manly, and, therefore, monolithic terms. They see the kitchen not only as a single gender phenomenon - and where, may I ask, would Peter Oliver be if only women chefs were allowed in the kitchen - but they don't even realize that the kitchen itself, physically, as we know it, has a surprisingly short history.

Before the 17th century, in western civilization, there was no sense of domestic privacy. All interior spaces in the home were public. Meals were made and taken either in single multi-purpose rooms, or made by servants in basements or external sheds lacking either charm or hygiene. It was the Dutch who invented the idea of privacy and domesticity, and with it - when Dutch women took over the running of their own family kitchens - our concept of the kitchen as the heart and soul of family life. And yet in only three centuries the kitchen as a symbol for woman's destiny since the dawn of time has acquired the false patina of received wisdom.

Let us now elevate our theme to the symbolic plane, and take a look at the larger historical picture of western civilization.

The Greeks regarded household management as an analogue of the management of the State. So, economics, which relates to the management of the household (in Greek, oikos), is in fact a model for political economy. The state, in other words, is a political household. If women can be left in charge of the affairs of the household, then, by extension, they should be seen to be capable of running the affairs of the political household, i.e., the State.

By the way, it is particularly fitting to note that Leacock himself made great sport of petty dictators who imagined they were above the daily concerns of human life.

It is we bi-lexuals who best understand and who best exploit the exquisite duality of the kitchen, and its power to evoke deep emotions. Consider the cleverness of our Governor General, in choosing, for her photo opportunity demonstrating support for our Armed Forces in Afghanistan this past Christmas, the image of herself in the kitchen galley of a naval vessel ladling out bowls of soup. Why didn't she choose the bridge of the ship? Because Her Excellency understands what marketing people the world over know: the kitchen is where nurture begins, and in this case, by extension, the message that our military is appreciated by the national "household", so to speak.

Another famous bi-lexual was Golda Meir, whose Cabinet not only met in her kitchen, but who ate her homemade cookies while they discussed affairs of State. On the other hand, those women who have no basic respect for homemaking cast discredit on the Sisterhood. Taking a superficial cue from women leaders like Golda and Mrs. Thatcher, Hilary Clinton fell back on the cookie-recipe stratagem when she ran into political trouble. Do you remember when, after her role as political advisor to her President husband was discredited, she turned to rally the support of women voters by donning the apron of the happy homemaker? Women everywhere saw through her feigned attachment to authentic womanly values, saw it as artificial and hollow. Yet, far from being an exception to the rule, like us true bi-lexuals, Hilary made a mockery of the rule. You might say, in fact, that Hilary and her ilk are dys-lexual.

In conclusion, I wish to state that I am proud to be an advocate for the resolution that implies that a woman's domain is in whatever place those issues, whether political, economic or social, that are central to our lives are being decided. Being in the kitchen implies a zest for life and the joy of creation, and also a devotion to family and the larger community. Being in the kitchen requires steadfastness and a commitment to long-term goals, that may involve short-term sacrifices. To illustrate the truth of my claim, I cite the enduring wisdom of Harry Truman's frequently quoted epigram: "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen."

Thank you for your indulgence, ladies and gentlemen, I now yield the floor to the first of our opposing homo-lexuals.