Southern Flevoland was still steaming in 1971 Do you still love me a little? by Harriet Freezer appeared, about the neglect of women in marriage. Now the Stripheldenbuurt in Almere is a spacious neighborhood full of homes that would fit nicely for a wedding. The eighth edition of Freezer’s book, from 1980, is twenty years younger than the neighborhood, where it stands, with a beautiful cover drawing by Fiep Westendorp, in a cramped bookcase whose contents range widely: from Nostradamus to the young American Emma Cline.
And so is Freezer (1911-1977). She was a writer, journalist and one of the heroes of the Second Wave of Feminism. Right at the beginning of the book she bumps her nose. She describes how she cheerfully told three acquaintances about her project on neglected women. “Gone smile. All three of them clammed up […] Betty took a sip of sherry, as if it were parathion.” (Yes, I had to look up parathion, it is a powerful insecticide that can smell like rotten eggs or garlic.)
Freezer discovered that when the word neglect was mentioned, women immediately started defending their husbands (and their own dignity). So she replaced the v-word with an a-word.
From then on she questioned the women about the subject of attention, after which the book filled to the brim with neglect. Worse actually, because Freezer paints a picture of marriage as a large women’s prison. It is an image of a period half a century ago, but one of a life form that was almost universal; the mothers of Jip and Janneke.
One thing is clear: the marriage was horrible. The women in Do you still love me a little? speak about their lives in terms of what they should and are allowed from their husband.
You read how little household money is passed on to them, how existence consists entirely of playing hostess, mother and wife. What can make women happier, Freezer hears, is an interesting hobby.
This is a report from a universe in which paid work for a married woman is obviously non-negotiable.
Such a situation is not good for a person, Freezer writes: “Put a full-fledged, sensible, healthy woman in a few rooms day and night with a bunch of unclean imbeciles, so that she cannot go out, travel, work or study and can’t have a proper conversation, and you have the young mother in an apartment.”
That is the paradox of all the misery (see also under: adultery) that Freezer describes: the book is as depressing in content as it is entertaining in style. And for those who think that all this no longer plays a role because you no longer hear these kinds of shocking stories, sobering observations such as: “It is always the silent ones who are essentially neglected.” It’s time for a Harriët Freezer revival.
Would you like the copy of Do you still love me a little? to have? Send an email to [email protected]; the book will be raffled among entrants and the winner will be notified.