Volunteerism IS Work

One of my pet peeves is that women (often mothers) who work outside the home discount the work of women who work within the home. Many men are of the same opinion—especially the men who have wives in the work force. And within that realm of thinking, volunteer or philanthropic work is routinely snubbed—as if it has no real worth or requires no investment of time. There is an assumption that work outside the home that has a zero pay scale is synonymous with fun. Such work is a mere dalliance.

Nothing can be farther from the truth.

When my children were in school, between board positions and philanthropic time donation I worked at least 10-20 hours a week 10 months out of the year---equivalent to a part time job in addition to the carpools and other obligations I had. And my volunteer work was real work—managerial. It required research, correspondence, budgets and public speaking. It was all consuming.

Until my husband’s job change there was no room in his schedule to donate his time for volunteerism. He was completely unable to make the commitment. But changed circumstance presented an opportunity, and that opportunity involved a fundraising event held once every two years.

And while I told him working the biannual event would be exhausting, I am certain he doubted me. He did not voice this but I understood that he believed that working a philanthropic event could be no more exhaustive that working a Saturday in March during tax season. I am certain that he thought that the fact that it was merely volunteer work held it on equal footing with recreation—it would be fun—a piece of cake. No worse than playing 36 holes of golf.

But when he came home from his 8 hour volunteer day, which had required quadruple that time requirement in preparation, he needed rest. His reserves were completely depleted. My husband had worked his butt off. And he said until now I had no idea what you endured all these years. I do not remember the last time I worked this hard. How did you do this for so long?

And he was merely an Indian—not even a chief.

The phrase goes You can’t truly understand a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes. In Karenland it would read You can’t really understand a “stay at home” woman until you have walked a marathon in her Cole Haan loafers. Because even if you win the race--measured in dollars raised or causes won-- no one hands you a medal-- let alone a paycheck. You will never receive the respect you deserve.