So can we take off our blinders that keep us from seeing people who are different from us? Can we stop making our experience the norm by which others must follow? Can we stop making assumptions about a person’s choice to work and choice of work when we know absolutely nothing about the back story? Not every woman who works is doing it because she feels entitled to have it all. Not every two-income household is motivated by materialism. Most of the world works because they need to eat.

First of all, read this article by Hannah Anderson and take note of this statement:

Complementarianism might be better understood as one expression of gender conservativism. As a response to evangelical feminism, complementarianism developed and flourishes in a specific cultural context, namely a western, white, middle-upper class context; because of this, it will reflect western, white, middle-upper class assumptions about work, economics, and home…

Consider how the Danvers’ Statement positions complementarianism against “feminist egalitarianism” (which itself was influenced by 2nd-wave feminism). Insofar as complementarians formed their identity in direct opposition to 2nd-wave feminism, they became a photonegative of it. None of us should be surprised, then, that complementarians are asking “what jobs can a woman do” because this is precisely the same question that 2nd-wave feminists asked. But even this question is loaded with assumptions about class, race, and agency.

I appreciate the clarity of Hannah’s post, and I agree with her assessment of the context of complementarianism as taught by the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood (CBMW). I am still firmly on the non-egalitarian side of the fence, but this context and its socioeconomic assumptions have contributed to my identifying less and less with the CBMW camp. Let me illustrate this by giving you a little background.

My parents immigrated to this country after World War II. They met while in college, got married, and settled down. Both my parents worked, so I was a latchkey child in the 60’s and 70’s when hardly anyone’s mom worked outside the home. At face value, it would be easy to point the finger and say that my mother was one of thosewomen. You know, the kind who put career ahead of husband and children. The kind who think they can have it all. In short, a “feminist.”

But nothing could be further from the truth.

My dad’s family lived through the Japanese occupation of the Philippines. My mom’s family lived through the bombing of Shanghai. Coming to America was like coming to the Promised Land, a land of opportunity, not only for themselves but their families. For someone Chinese, family meant not just the nuclear family but extended family as well.

When the Chinese government cut off contact with the outside world during the Cultural Revolution, my maternal grandmother was in Hong Kong visiting one of her daughters. My grandfather and several of my aunts’ families were still in China. My grandmother could not go home. She had no income, and she never saw her husband again for the rest of her life. Because of this, my parents helped support her as well as other family members “back home.”

My parents would be the last to brag about this because this was what family did for family. The only reason I became aware of their giving is because my aunt let it slip recently. In fact, it wasn’t just my parents. Aunts and uncles on both sides of my family helped relatives come to Canada or the States for college and/or jobs and eventually become citizens. But this was more than just a chance for economic advancement. Coming to the West meant religious freedom as well. My parents’ generation took the command to honor father and mother very seriously. They took Paul’s charge to Timothy (1 Tim. 5:8) to provide for relatives, and because of this, the majority of my extended family are now living in freedom.

When I stopped working when my daughter was born, I looked a little askance at my own upbringing. I didn’t know about my parents’ financial support of family at the time, so I judged them based on the “western, white, middle-upper class assumptions” regarding the single-income home that I had adopted. Given what I know now, I am ashamed of what I thought. Now that I am a single parent who must work, I have a greater appreciation for my parents who provided for their children and also made sure there would be food on the table for my grandmother.

I don’t want to imply that I speak for all Asian immigrant families. But I think it is more common than not that many provide assistance to more than just their immediate families. Consequently there is more than meets the eye when it comes to their financial responsibilities. Thus we may not fit into the ideal picture of the one-income family, which is the American dream to many, not just the base model.

I also hope you don’t think I am negating the positive aspects of single-income families. If this is God’s providence for you, give thanks and do all for His glory. This was my former state, and it had its blessings. However, not everyone fits that mold, and to attach moral value to a lifestyle that is the result of socioeconomic factors comes across as a little bit classist even if it is unintentional.

So can we take off our blinders that keep us from seeing people who are different from us? Can we stop making our experience the norm by which others must follow? Can we stop making assumptions about a person’s choice to work and choice of work when we know absolutely nothing about the back story? Not every woman who works is doing it because she feels entitled to have it all. Not every two-income household is motivated by materialism. Most of the world works because they need to eat.

Persis Lorenti is an ordinary Christian. You can find her at Tried With Fire and Out of the Ordinary. This article appeared at her blog and is used with permission.