Chapter 4 Sasha #2
That was why Sasha recognized the name. Inspired by her sister’s pregnancy, Sasha was planning a dissertation about how Motherhood, the institution with a capital M, was the final frontier of feminism.
She wanted to investigate how society perpetuates the belief that women are not truly women unless they reproduce, leading many to have children as an assumed matter of course, only to realize that the same society that corralled them into this role offers no support infrastructure—no paid maternity leave, no subsidized childcare, nothing.
Daphne was already talking about whether or not to continue working after the baby arrived, considering that day care would eat up 90 percent of her salary.
To Sasha, it all seemed like a patriarchal scheme to “keep women in the kitchen.” Without support infrastructure, mothers have no choice but to suspend every other pursuit in their lives to raise their children.
This takes many of them out of the workforce and redirects all their brain power away from things like personal fulfillment or fighting for equality—which is, of course, just fine for the white men at the helm.
When Sasha tried to talk to Daphne about her thoughts, her sister scrunched up her forehead and said, “Oh, Sash, your brain never sleeps.”
As part of her research, Sasha had been perusing various popular accounts on Instagram to see what kind of messages about femininity were being disseminated to the masses.
It was a dark and dank rabbit hole, in which she discovered something called the “traditional wife” movement, #tradwife.
This movement involved an endless parade of pretty, mostly white women in their twenties and thirties making meals for their hardworking husbands and talking about how they didn’t want to “waste fertile years” pursuing college and careers.
It was, in a word, horrifying. Then there were the all-in mother accounts featuring women who dedicated every moment of their days to abandoning their own needs and desires in service of their children and husband.
Also horrifying. Sasha remembered scribbling down Angeni Luna’s name after seeing that her account had a couple million followers.
Someone with that much reach was exactly the type of person Sasha had to understand.
“I thought Angeni Luna was a motherhood content person,” Sasha said.
“She has two accounts—her Conscious Couples account and her Mother Nurture account,” Daphne said.
“I’m sorry, but you do sound like quite the disciple.”
Daphne sighed and shook her head. “Whatever. I like her. I like what she has to say. It resonates with me.”
Sasha looked at Jay, and he gave her a smile and a shrug.
“Happy wife, happy life, am I right?” he said.
“You’re a good man, Jay,” Sasha said.
“Wait, did she tell you about the giant tub?” he asked.
“I haven’t told her about the giant tub,” Daphne said.
“What giant tub?” Sasha asked.
“Oh shit,” Jay said. He stood and set his bowl of chili on the coffee table. “You gotta see it to believe it.”
He started walking down the hall, and Daphne got up to follow him. Sasha, behind the two of them, assumed they were going to the bathroom—giant tub?—but Jay went toward the garage door. He opened it, switched on the light, and said, “Ta-da!”
Sasha peered around Daphne to see a giant inflatable tub in the middle of the garage. So that was why their cars were parked out front.
“I don’t get it,” Sasha said.
Her first thought was that it was a play pool for the baby, but she couldn’t figure out why they had this before they’d even acquired a crib.
“I’m going to have a water birth,” Daphne said. “At home.”
Sasha must have still looked confused, because Jay jumped in to clarify: “She’s going to have our baby in this tub.”
Sasha looked at her sister. “You serious?”
“I’ve done my research, and it’s what I want to do,” Daphne said. Sasha could tell by the tone of her voice and the way she jutted her chin slightly upward that there was no changing her mind.
“It’s because of Angelini Luna,” Jay said.
“Angeni,” Daphne corrected.
“Is it safe?” Sasha asked.
“Of course it’s safe. It’s childbirth. It’s a very natural process if people would let it be,” Daphne said. She sounded rehearsed, unlike herself. Sasha knew she had to tread lightly. Her sister could be very stubborn.
“Are you going to have a midwife or whatever?” Sasha asked.
“Yes, we have someone,” Daphne said.
“Daph found her on the internet,” Jay said, dubious.
“Does Mom know?” Sasha asked.
Sasha knew there was no way their mother would agree with this.
“I haven’t told her yet,” Daphne said.
Jay couldn’t suppress a laugh. “I hope I’m involved in that convo.”
“This really isn’t that crazy of a thing. Women do it all the time,” Daphne said.
Sasha went to the giant tub, lifted a leg up and over the side, and stepped into it.
“Angeni Luna had a water birth,” Jay said.
“If you’re interested, I’ll send you the birth video when she releases it. You’ll see how beautiful it can be,” Daphne said.
Sasha walked a lap in the tub and then climbed out. Then she said what she knew Daphne wanted to hear: “Sure, yeah, send it to me.”
While Jay did the dishes in the kitchen, Sasha and Daphne sat on the couch, each of them scrolling on their phone.
Sasha typed Angeni Luna’s name into Instagram.
She looked familiar. Sasha was sure she’d come across her before.
She didn’t appear to be a typical #tradwife, but she had some of their characteristics.
She was a pretty white woman who looked to be in her early thirties.
She spoke reverently of her husband, Erik, a very good-looking man by conventional standards.
Clearly, Angeni Luna worked, though. With just a few taps, Sasha could see that she had somewhat of a social media empire with @.
official and @mother.nurture.official. Her link tree showed various course offerings and workshops, things she was selling to make enough money to live on a large amount of land on Bainbridge Island.
Sasha guessed that had piqued Daphne’s interest—the fact that Angeni Luna was a local, just across Puget Sound from Seattle.
Many of the posts showcased a kind of homesteading lifestyle, a glamorization of a slower pace and deep connection to nature.
That all seemed well and good, in theory, though Sasha was always skeptical.
She’d learned about tradwives who had this type of lifestyle, and their days were so occupied with making cheese and dusting baseboards with cloths—never paper towels—that they simply did not have time to think critically about the larger world.
It was pitched as “wholesome,” but ultimately supported a patriarchal agenda.
Angeni Luna was obviously obsessed with her baby, who had been born the previous month.
This must have also appealed to Daphne—the nearness of their due dates, the parallelism of their paths.
There were lots of posts about attachment parenting, which also concerned Sasha.
She’d been following the resurgence of attachment parenting, seeing it as similar to the tradwife movement in that it encouraged women to put so much focus on caretaking that they had no choice but to sacrifice any other pursuit.
Was this what her sister wanted, a life dedicated to making baby purees from scratch and washing cloth diapers?
If that was what she wanted, could Sasha support it?
“Have you thought any more about if you’ll go back to work after having the baby?” Sasha asked. She couldn’t help herself.
Daphne looked up from her phone and sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll have to feel it out, I guess. Day care would be so expensive, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to be with the baby, you know?”
Sasha didn’t know, but she nodded.
“I know you probably don’t agree,” Daphne said.
Sasha shrugged. “I just want you to be happy.”
That was the truth. All her feminist theories fell by the wayside when she was sitting there next to her sister. She just wanted her to be happy.
Daphne and Jay walked Sasha out to the front porch. Daphne reminded her about the candy bars for the shower, and they made tentative plans to meet up at Kerry Park the weekend after the shower. Daphne and Sasha had always loved that park, with its views of the water and Seattle skyline.
Sasha hugged Jay, then Daphne. Her sister held her longer than usual.
“I love you so much,” Daphne said.
Sasha felt Daphne’s body tremble against hers. She leaned away to confirm her suspicion: “Are you crying?”
Tears started to roll down Daphne’s cheeks as she waved Sasha off. “Shut up, it’s the hormones!”
“The struggle is real,” Jay said, shaking his head.
Sasha put a thumb to her sister’s cheek, used it to wipe away the tears.
“I love you, you hormonal weirdo,” Sasha said.
They all started laughing, though tears were still rolling down Daphne’s cheeks.
“Sister date at Kerry Park, okay?” Daphne said. “Don’t flake.”
“I won’t. I promise!”
But the Kerry Park date never happened. It rained the weekend after the baby shower, so they postponed the meetup.
Neither of them firmed up a reschedule date as a few weeks passed with Sasha busy in her world of academia and Daphne busy in her world of impending motherhood.
Then this terrible thing happened, and Sasha would never see Daphne ever again.