At first glance, most conservative grouches should have nodded
approvingly at Katie Couric’s nurturing decision to eschew
reporting live from the Mideast when she hosts CBS Evening
News:
“I think the situation there is so dangerous, and as a single
parent with two children, that’s something I won’t be doing,” Katie
said.
On second thought — and discounting the fact we of the 99.9% of
the population less attractive than she seem to unduly enjoy always
tweaking her — there is something bothersome here that
should be aired.
As the iconic New Century Woman, Katie does neither marriage,
nor men, nor women any favors by referring to herself as a “single
parent.” By doing so, she telegraphs how deeply society has
internalized the “new” (meaning “non”) marriage paradigm.
Like most bad ideas, it started with good intentions. In the
seventies, “single mother” was the replacement term used to avoid
having a divorced woman feel shame — a shame she may well have
deserved not one scintilla. Inevitably, the term migrated to
describe women with children who had never been married. For them,
“single parent” dodged a potentially even greater shame.
So, now we have widows, who share a familial flow chart with the
above women, but come from an entirely different emotional,
historical, and moral place.
To describe a widow as a “single parent” (a) posits no
distinction between the mother and father units and (b) sends the
departed dad down the memory hole. “Widow” is the very essence of
the kind of word that implies “incomplete, not altogether whole.”
And these days, when “wholeness” is considered a right that is
totally in our control to harvest, widowhood is simply an
inoperative concept.
The Cleveland Browns running back (and not a known feminist) Jim
Brown used to make a point of always arising from a tackle at an
equally slow rate. That way, he says, no one would know if that
last hit had hurt him. With the “one term fits all” approach to
womanhood, we allow every woman to come out of every of of life’s
tackles “the same.” By homogenizing moral choice, we have devalued
all men, and stripped history — and, yes, judgment — from all
women.
(Brainstorm: While they’re colorizing Fred and Ginger in The
Gay Divorcee, why stop there? Go ahead and replace the
no-longer-oxymoronic title with a socially relevent reduncancy:
“The Gay Single.” Oops, you can’t use “gay” either. Never
mind.)
For the record, every widow is entitled to call herself whatever
she wants and our exclusive and immutable social obligation is to
increase her comfort. Nevertheless, score this one as a victory for
moral chaos.