New Marriage Styles

It was Ambrose Bierce, the 19th century author and iconoclast, who defined marriage as a "community consisting of a master, a mistress and two slaves, making in all, two." In the past few years that community has come under increasing attack from feminists who feel that the traditional marriage has really consisted of one master (the husband) and one slave (the wife). Under the feminists' onslaught, the old rigid forms of marriage have begun to change, especially among younger couples. Some of the new roles assigned to husbands--and to wives--are proving to be impractical, but others may well become a permanent fixture of the New Marriage. Some marital innovators:

THE WATKINSES OF BERKELEY. Ted and Fran Watkins, married eight years ago, began in the traditional pattern: he taught school, and she kept house. Today Fran, 29, is program coordinator of Berkeley, Calif., radio station KPFA; Ted, 34, stays home and tends their son Sam, 7, and daughter Storm, 3. Ted has learned to cook well, and he does most--but not all--of the routine cleaning, washing and shopping. Fran shares in the household chores after work and on weekends. "I don't like to say our family is committed to Women's Lib," she says. "I think it's committed to human liberation."

Ted plans to go back to work again periodically, probably as a research economist. "He can make much more money than I can," Fran explains. "But I wanted to work and take a lot of the responsibility for the financial side of the family. I think Ted was able to accept this because he is a strong person with a very strong identity." Ted likes working as an economist, she says, but also enjoys "being with the children, making jewelry and painting the house." They have a joint checking account.

Ted says that he does not feel uneasy about the arrangement. "We decided," he says, "that we wanted to live interesting, enjoyable lives rather than have success in careers. Once we decided that, we got away from roles and a lot of other things too."

Daughter Storm accepts the role reversal with equanimity, but Sam, conditioned by society for a longer time, sometimes engages in wishful thinking. Asked recently what his mother did, he replied: "She stays in the house and washes dishes, and my father plays football with me."

THE TERRYS OF DETROIT. When the Terrys decided to buy a new car in June 1970, Jo-Ann yielded gracefully. She had wanted the new car for herself, but when Bob insisted she use their old car while he took over the new one, she suggested that he sign a contract to mollify her. In the contract, he promised to make the bed every morning, pick up his clothes, take out the garbage every other day, write a bimonthly letter to his family, fix breakfast every weekend, devote one weekend a month exclusively to his wife, fetch calorie-laden treats for her without teasing, clean up his own kitchen messes and empty the dishwasher, plan and cook one "nice" dinner a month--and let Jo-Ann choose the next new car. Bob signed, the contract was hung on the refrigerator, and Jo-Ann promptly turned into a nag trying to enforce it. "We started beating each other over the head with contracts," says Bob, a Baptist clergyman now a consultant on race relations. "They're harder to keep than to write."

When the Terrys' first child was born in October 1970, the written contract idea was dropped. Bob, 34, and Jo-Ann, 28, an educator, had learned that equality cannot be legislated. Their salaries are about the same, they have a joint checking account, and they work similarly long hours (60-70 a week). "But we found we couldn't just switch roles," says Bob. "We've had to redefine our relationship completely." That seems to boil down to simply taking turns with the onerous chores--and to making a few specific long-range commitments. This year, for example, Jo-Ann is keeping the family books in order, and Bob is doing the cooking. "We're still working on it," says Bob. "We don't agree on everything, but we certainly know where we are."

THE ZILBERS OF BOSTON. When Barbara and Maurice Zilber were wed in 1963, they set out to build a conventional marriage. After six years, she was mistress of a large house in Chestnut Hill and the mother of two boys. Maurice had just become a partner in a downtown law firm. Then Barbara joined N.O.W. and quickly rose to become one of its city leaders. Nothing has been the same since.

Barbara now gets up at 9, while Maurice rises at 7:30 to dress and feed the three children (a daughter was born six months ago). Four days a week, a maid comes in to care for the children and do some cleaning. Barbara spends her mornings--and many afternoons and evenings too--working for N.O.W. She comes home to lunch with the kids, then cares for them from 4 p.m. onward and starts dinner. Maurice gets home at 6:30, usually helps with dinner and then helps Barbara put the children to bed. Last year they took separate five-day vacations. "It was good," says Barbara. "I hope we can do it again."

Maurice has suffered a few surprises during Barbara's emancipation. Her busy evenings out (working for N.O.W.) bothered him for a while: "It was a rude shock to me how it felt to be home alone at night . . . I began to wonder how Barbara had felt when I was out to so many meetings at night." On several of the evenings Barbara is home, Maurice must vanish--she runs a consciousness-raising session there, and men are forbidden. "Sometimes," he says, "it makes me feel like a stranger in my own house." Barbara has a few reservations of her own. "If I had it to do all over again," she says, "I would have a partnership contract rather than get married. I want none of the baggage that comes with marriage today. Like the blacks, I just want to change the entire system."

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