She Wanted to Be an American So Badly
by Lisa Lucas
"Some women think Midol is just for cramps. I know better. My period problems are different now: backache, headache and the irritable feeling that goes with it.”
The day before Mother’s Day, while organizing the garage, I stumbled upon a storage box filled with stacks and stacks of old newspaper clippings, magazine articles, and handwritten scraps of classic Americana recipes from my grandmother’s kitchen drawer. The earliest dated back to 1957, the most recent to the late ’80s. Leafing through them felt like stepping into a time capsule.
At the bottom of the box, a 1973 issue of Good Housekeeping stared back at me. The cover headline with it’s glamorous trio of thirty-year-old housewives with the perfect Miss Clairol bottle blonde hair read:
“What doctors don’t know, but should, about Sex—Menopause at 33. What is happening to me?”
That line could’ve been from 2025, as we’re only now beginning to see serious, legitimate research on menopause. As I flipped through the pages of ads, editorials, and household tips, I was struck by the contradictions of the era. It was the middle of the feminist awakening, yet still firmly rooted in misogynistic ideology.
On one hand, there were pros: an all-female editorial staff, job ads promising “better pay, better work,” articles on the benefits of the IUD and women’s sexual agency. But, the cons were glaring. Every ad for a particular home product showed only women positively radiant with joy at cooking or cleaning. Beauty ads emphasized staying slim and pretty (to keep a man!), equating a woman’s worth with her appearance. We now know, thanks to shows like Mad Men—who wrote that copy—it sure as hell wasn’t women. We were too busy balancing housework, childcare, and the expectations of being a stylish hostess in the living room and a sex goddess in the bedroom.
I was exhausted just reading it. And that was the ’70s. I’ll never mock an Instagram need to practice self-care reel again. Yes, we do have more options now like the miracle of Instacart and petroleum-free organic tampons. But have we really made that many gains in the past 50 years? Not really. And if the current administration’s actions are any indication, we are going backwards.
“Your roast is perfect. You get a lot of pleasure out of preparing a lovely, elegant dinner. And you don’t want the spots on your family crystal to spoil the effect. Get the Cascade look. Virtually spotless!”
My grandmother, my Nana, was the hardest working person I’ve ever known. The sheer volume of labor she managed daily was staggering. And, of course, because she was a woman, it was expected: free, unpaid labor. She raised children, cooked every meal, cleaned the house, did the shopping, laundry, and gardening. She mended clothes, set her perfect curls tucked into a hairnet with bobby pins every night, did her own nails, colored her own hair, and chopped wood for the fireplace. She mowed the lawn, harvested the garden bounty and climbed a tall, wooden ladder to pick bags of oranges for us from her backyard for over 60 years.
She slow-cooked marinara sauce in between sewing matching dresses for my sisters and me — without a pattern. She knit baby booties and crocheted afghans for the entire family at night, while watching TV. And she never slept. I’m convinced she trained herself to take power naps so that she could get more done at night to be that much further ahead the next day.
"Another case of “the drabs”? Young women 18-34 often suffer from this…but there is a cure…”Happiness” the wonderful, new, no-peroxide hair color from Clairol!”
But every day, there was one sacred hour when she did take a break: after she made everyone lunch, we would all sit down at the kitchen table to watch her program, Days of Our Lives. She adored that show and followed it from 1966 until her death in 2018. During this time, she relished escaping into the overly dramatic world of the Horten Family and the DiMeras and crazy ol’ Vicktor Kiriakis with his arch nemesis Stefano, as well as her favorite character of all time, Dr. Marlena Evans, played by Deirdre Hall.
Years ago, when I worked at NBC, my office was near the DOOL set. One day, I went to the PR team and told them my grandmother was Deirdre Hall’s number one fan. Soon after, I was knocking on Hall’s dressing room door, and was generously handed a signed 8 x10 glossy photo of the famous soap opera star. “What’s your grandmother’s name, dear?” she asked, so she could write a personal note.
When I presented the framed photo to Nana, she just about fainted. That photo was placed on the credenza in the living room reserved for special company only. It stood alone, in a gold frame, for years, hallowed and revered.
“Introducing the Practicing Dieter’s Pantyhose—Control Tops with Lycra: They’ll help you feel trimmer, firmer, prettier, happier—instantly!”
We’ve been told for generations that “women can have it all.” But this is a bullshit lie sold to us by the patriarchy. Unpaid domestic labor has powered the capitalist machine for decades. The image of the self-sacrificing mother—always smiling, always attractive, always serving the family—is not empowerment. It’s exploitation.
How many women have suffered under the modern myth of the Superwoman? Their needs unspoken, unmet, invisible—engrained in their own private burden, carried in silence—producing nothing but guilt and shame for not achieving it. This isn’t normal, and it certainly isn’t fair. Burnout is real and unhealthy.
Nana was extraordinary. She lived to be nearly a hundred, co-owned the family business, and shared in an equal marriage. She was, however, an absolute anomaly. Her immigrant drive to “make it in America” may have fueled her more than any women’s magazine article ever could. But imagine her life if she could have had universal health care, birth control options, paid family leave, or had her extended family from her home country here to help raise the kids. She could have had some actual time to take stock of her own life, contemplate her existence, maybe answer a deep-seeded desire to become a nurse or physician if she so chose, or simply have had more time to relax and enjoy herself with her friends and family. She so deserved that.
We all do.
So pardon my rage at the current fascists-in-charge who approved the so-called National Medal of Motherhood to give women a “baby bonus” incentive of a measly $5000 bucks.
You can all go f#<% yourselves!
“Does your mirror say it’s time for a serious night cream?
Organizations to join:
DemCast: demcastusa.com
Swing Left: swingleft.org
Women’s March: womensmarch.com
Indivisible: indivisible.org
5 calls app: 5calls.org
For Volunteer opportunities, rallies, etc.: mobilize.us
[See you all at the NO KINGS national protest on 6/14/25!]
