Working women in Lebanon: Inside the so-called “motherhood tax”

The pressure and workload, particularly in the field of education, tend to limit the time she can spend with her children.

Weighed down by these complex challenges, Amani has had to carve out a more balanced path for herself. She redefined what is considered "rewarding", away from external notions of success.

"When I applaud my accomplishments, even if they're modest but have deep significance to me; when I recognise the wholehearted effort I've invested at home and in the world; and when I set personal goals and relentlessly chase them, I flourish. These pursuits require nurturing, yet they emancipate me and provide me with a profound sense of satisfaction," she says.

Sahar Rammal, a dentist and mother of two, holds a strong belief that the role of the mother is irreplaceable, unlike other dispensable jobs.

"Even if I were to hold the most prestigious roles, there could potentially be someone else to fill those positions. But during the critical formative years of my children, there is no true substitute for me," she says.

"This may sound surprising, even to me, but it's the insight I've gained from my experiences. Let's shift towards a more grounded perspective. I've had the privilege of having some freedom due to my freelance profession.

"However, this choice isn't available to all working mothers, especially amidst this economic crisis. In these circumstances, work often becomes a form of self-negation rather than self-fulfilment. How many Lebanese women have had this reality repeatedly imposed on them?"

Financial independence

Rammal further points out that many working mothers experience substantial psychological pressure, as they are torn between traditional beliefs and real-life expectations.

There's a belief rooted in religion that the husband must take on a "leadership" role, including financial responsibility on all fronts. Some working women, particularly in traditional settings, might feel added stress associated with entering the workforce, which they see as a non-essential role for women.

Rammal, however, believes that financial independence is crucial for women to feel comfortable and fulfilled, especially in the event of divorce. She also recognises the importance of having a partner to share childcare responsibilities with. Yet, this isn't always the case.

"Not all men are willing to engage in a shared caregiving role, and society often undermines the effort of mothers who are dedicated to this role within their homes," she says.

Housework as unpaid work

According to Rita Barotta, a Lebanese-Brazilian university professor and researcher in gender studies, the problem arises from the way society defines the modern woman, particularly the "working woman".

Women who fulfil demanding roles within the household are excluded from the label of working women. This is despite their caregiving responsibilities enabling their spouses to pursue careers outside the home.

When a woman's labour at home is not acknowledged as work, society fails to recognise, respect and appreciate the contributions of mothers at large.

About half a century ago, leading Italian-American feminist Silvia Federici had her finger on the pulse when it came to the dilemma faced by women in the workforce. She penned an article, "Wages Against Housework," in which she daringly deconstructed gender roles, pulling apart deep-seated cultural beliefs.

Federici exposes a societal scheme to normalise unpaid domestic duties while assigning them solely to one gender, stating: "They say it is love. We say it is unpaid work. This fraud that goes under the name of love and marriage affects all of us."

Male-dominated capitalism

Federici points out that capitalism has been very successful in hiding women's work, all at the expense of women. By denying housework a wage, and painting it as an act of love, capitalism can continue to thrive. ("It got a hell of a lot of work almost for free," she writes.)

Unfortunately, many women – particularly single women – are afraid of the idea of paid housework, because they are afraid of identifying, even for a second, with the image of the housewife.

They know that this is the most powerless position in society, and they do not want to realise that they are housewives, too.

It's no secret, according to Barotta, that things like human rights, the championing of non-traditional roles, and the model of the modern woman (in Lebanon and the world), are a product of male-dominated capitalism.

"It has not liberated women from their ongoing issues with inheritance rights, including the material space a woman can manage independently and occupy to express herself," she says. "Consequently, both married and unmarried women remain constrained by a male-dominated material dependency."

Fourth-wave feminism

According to Barotta, the value of labour is determined by those who dominate discourse and shape the social framework surrounding women's work.

Fourth-wave feminism, also known as "cyberfeminism," has relied over the past 10 years on the virtual world to address its issues, which are focused primarily on anti-violence.

"This contemporary wave, which started around 2012, is characterised by its digital nature and its focused fight against sexual harassment and violence against women," she says.

"While it excels in exposing perpetrators and sparking campaigns against harassment, these victories remain somewhat isolated and don't directly translate into substantial advancements in women's work."

Lebanese women in the market

The role of Lebanese women in the labour market has evolved over the decades. Working women have often been at the forefront of change.

In the 1940s, young working women brought about remarkable advancements in the labour movement, during a period marked by heightened union activity in Lebanon.

Warda Boutros served as a symbol of this movement. A passionate advocate for employee rights at Lebanese Regie for Tobacco, her dedication to the cause led to her martyrdom during a 1946 crackdown.

These initiatives, though not explicitly labelled feminist, were undoubtedly influenced by the participation of women. Today, however, feminist discourse has become increasingly entwined with dominant neoliberal ideals, says Barotta.

Any form of dissent on "various channels, including Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and other platforms, all controlled by major global corporations" can swiftly lead to punishment.

"These corporations wield the power to suppress your discourse, silence your opinions, or even imprison you for the mere act of expressing ideas that contradict the social standards." She adds that "essentially, it exercises control over the voice of women, stifling their narratives."

Barotta emphasises the crucial need to revisit Italian Marxist philosopher Antonio Gramsci's ideas today, particularly the importance of "civil society" as a mediator between the economic structure and the state, with its legislations and coercive powers.

In Lebanon, civil society has grown over the past 15 years and serves as an incubator for feminist activism.

However, it's important to recognise that civil society, which stands up to preexisting social systems, is still a product of neoliberalism, which firmly anchors political and cultural powers within Lebanon.

Neoliberalist influence has only grown since the ongoing crisis began in late 2019, particularly in the face of weakening state institutions.

But it goes back further than that; it has been in effect for over three decades, with the bolstering of banking institutions and private investments, and the post-civil war (1975-1990) reconstruction process.

Working mothers, in numbers

As long as women's issues are not a priority for policymakers, the struggle of Lebanese working mothers will intensify with no solution in sight.

Many who claim to champion women's rights treat these issues as a side effect of a global agenda, rather than focusing on local concerns. Furthermore, the diagnosis doesn't solely involve the patriarchy or male voices.

Both women and men have directed heated criticism toward working (and non-working) mothers who place their children in nurseries, a debate which was sparked by a series of inhumane crimes that occurred in child-care establishments.

To a large extent, Lebanese homemakers share the same burdens that their counterparts do around the world.

Caregiving roles of mothers have existed throughout history, with only minor cultural shifts in this arena, and the occasional employment of domestic workers or paid caregivers among those who can afford it.

According to statistics from the International Labour Organisation published in 2018, women in high-, middle-, and low-income countries spend an average of 260 minutes a day on unpaid care work.

Amid the economic crisis in Lebanon, the average monthly cost of childcare amounts to around 89% of the minimum wage, according to a State of the Mashreq women's report titled "Who Cares? Care Work and Women's Labour Market Outcomes in Iraq, Jordan and Lebanon," published by the World Bank in February 2023.

The report highlights that unpaid care work performed by mothers in these three countries amounts to $35bn in one year. This is the equivalent of 4 million people working full-time (48 hours per week) without compensation.

When a mother enters Lebanon's workforce, she faces a system that's far from equitable. Let's take the example of maternity leave. In Lebanon, it's a mere 10 weeks, totalling just 70 days, which is significantly lower than the International Labour Organisation's standard of 18 weeks of state-provided, paid maternity leave.

Meanwhile, Lebanon's neighbouring countries are better off. For instance, in Iraq, mothers enjoy a generous, fully paid 14-week leave.

In Lebanon, employers are obligated to cover only two-thirds of the allotted leave time; still, many businesses hesitate to hire married women, particularly those expecting children.

Gender discrimination

Currency depreciation aside, gender discrimination rages on within Lebanon's labour laws. Notably, Lebanon's National Social Security Fund only allows a pregnant woman to access benefits after 10 months of employment, while a man can secure coverage for his pregnant spouse in just three months.

Moreover, if a husband is employed, his wife automatically benefits from social security. If a woman is employed, her husband only benefits from social security if he is over the age of 60 or has a disability.

Ultimately, working wives do not enjoy the same rights as working husbands, despite a former minister's efforts to address this discrimination through proposed legislation. Unfortunately, however, parliamentary discussions have failed to centre these concerns.

In short, married Lebanese women find themselves subjected to a "motherhood tax." This tax extends to them whether they choose to work within the household, venture into the workforce, or straddle both worlds – it's the price any mother is expected to pay.

The economic support here is negligible. When women reach their forties, however, they encounter a small "pittance" from medical institutes: "You have the option to freeze your eggs – with convenient instalment plans."