Posts Tagged ‘ women in agriculture ’

Women in Agriculture: A follow-up

My last post argued that women farmers face a crisis of legitimacy in their profession, and so tend to engage in sustainable as opposed to traditional agriculture.

Patrick had a really interesting comment:

“This is actually really interesting in that…not that long ago farming in the U.S was very much a family dominated business. Whole families did work in the field, worked with animals, tended gardens and helped bring in the crops at harvest. This to me would show very clearly just how important and knowledgeable each member of the family would be, especially the women of the household who also probably had to do a lot of the work in the house without the help of all members of the family.”

So what changed? What changes lead to the strict, gendered division of labor on farms rendering men the ‘farmers,’ and women the ‘farmwives’?

Before I venture a guess at the answer, a couple of caveats are in order. Firstly, although the best way to answer the question would be through a systematic analysis of census (or similarly large-scale) data, I am not aware of such a data source. The US Census of Agriculture did not start collecting data on women farm operators until 1978, by which time gendered spaces on farms had already been established. Secondly, the data that does exist excludes a large proportion of women, as the aforementioned census does not collect data on ‘part-time’ farmers (i.e.: those who do not consider farming their primary occupation). In the mid-80s, 48.7% of women living on farms were employed off the farm. By 2007, the number was closer to 65%. Since it excludes part-time farmers (often women farmers), the data that do exist are not perfectly reliable.

But caveats aside, the general consensus seems to be that the mechanization of agriculture created separate spaces for men and women on the farm, leaving the men to do the farmer’s work, and women to do the farmwives’ work. Although mechanization started after WWII, Nixon-era policies lead to a mad rush to “Get Big Or Get Out,” forcing farms to increase production in order to stay solvent. This boost in mechanization put paid to women in agriculture.

Mechanization removed women from agricultural public spaces in three important ways. Firstly, it minimized their direct involvement in the “business of farming” (i.e.: the economic production aspect of farming). Large agricultural machinery (tractors, for example), required minimal labor to operate, eliminating the need for women’s labor on the farm. Mechanization thus contributed to the creation a “male arena,” where technology became inextricably linked to masculine identity.

Secondly, by linking agricultural production and masculinity, mechanization cut women off from spaces where agricultural knowledge is disseminated and shared. The women in the Trauger study I cited last week, for example, report feeling ostracized at “feed mills, equipment dealerships, hay auctions, sale barns and farm shows.” Women farmers, therefore, are not just cut off from spaces where male farmers conduct business, but also from spaces where agricultural knowledge is shared.

Finally, as mechanization reduced the labor intensity of agriculture, young girls were also shut out from farming knowledge and experience. Not only is farming gendered, therefore, but learning about farming is also gendered. Gendered spaces are reinforced over generations as farm boys learn the occupation from their fathers, and farm girls learn to perform more feminine farm-support tasks like record-keeping and errand running. So, from an early age, women are denied the farming expertise necessary to play the role of ‘farmers.’

The mechanization of  agriculture, therefore, revolutionized the social structure of farming. Gender roles are continuous formed and reinforced at the both the familial and societal level, clearly demarcating separate spaces for women and men. Given the lack of space for women in traditional agriculture, it is hardly surprising that they seek the refuge of alternative, small-scale, sustainable agriculture, free from old boys networks and gendered expectations.

A Feminist Dilemma: Women in Agriculture

Clare grows her own blueberries. Then she picks them, washes them, sorts them, and takes them to town to sell at the local farmer’s market. If she has any left, she sells them on the side of the road, out of the back of her truck. At home she also manages the livestock: lambs, horses, rabbits and dogs.

Clare identifies herself as a farmer, but is pretty sure that if she engaged in a more traditional, productivist form of agriculture, she would be hard-pressed to find anyone else who would identify her as such.

According to a study (from where I have lifted Clare’s story) by Amy Trauger, Professor of Geography at UGA , Clare is in the minority in multiple dimensions. Firstly, as a woman principal farm operator, she joins a cohort of only 306,000 others, a mere fraction of the overall farming community. But even within that community, Clare is in the minority. Most women in agriculture, even if they perform the same duties as their male counterparts, refuse to self-identify as farmers. The vision of the farmer as a big, strong and tough male is so strongly imbued in collective consciousness that most women farmers are not willing to transgress gender lines, regardless of the duties they perform. In fact, the US Census of Agriculture did not even include gender as an operator characteristic until 1978!

As a minority sub-population in agriculture, there are statistically significant differences in the sorts of farming women engage in. Another one of Trauger’s studies, this time on women farmers in Minnesota, shows that women tend to engage in smaller-scale agriculture (most farms are less than 50 acres), earn less than their male counterparts (<$25,000 annually), grow in locations where the soil is less productive, disproportionately focus on producing fruits, vegetables, trees, nuts, animal products, and engage in more labor-intensive farming. Moreover, women are up to three times more likely to operate farms that run on sustainable agricultural models rather than on productivist agricultural models.

This shift away from what Vandana Shiva calls the “masculinization of agriculture” brings up some important feminist quandaries. First: why do women farmers tend to practice a different, more sustainable form of agriculture? Is it because of institutionalized patriarchal structures that, for example, make it much more difficult for women farmers to access capital and loans than their male counterparts? Is it because, as children growing up, farmgirls are not given the same responsibilities as their male siblings, thus being shut out from essential farming knowledge and experience? Or is there something about the female experience that shapes their relationship with the land in a particular way? Ecofeminists, for example, believe, that women have a special relationship with the earth, having both suffered similar forms of male oppression.

What’s clear is that women suffer a crisis of legitimacy when they enter the farming profession. The bias against them that is institutionalized, and women have had to come up with creative ways around it. Trauger’s subjects, for example, navigate male-dominated social spaces (for example: the feed mills, equipment dealerships, hay auctions, sale barns, farm shows, etc.) by pretending that they’re out on a farm errand for their husbands, or taking a male companion along to do their negotiations for them. Most women in US agriculture today still do not feel comfortable publicly transgressing institutionalized gender lines.

So what’s a feminist to do? On the one hand, I like the fact that women are engaged in sustainable forms of agriculture. I’m not thrilled that it tends to be low-income generating. So here’s the big question: Is small-scale, but sustainable farming women farmers’ niche, or are they forced into it by institutionalized sexism? Is it an equal opportunity haven, or the only alternative women have? This is an empirical question, and one I’d like to see more data on–what do women farmers actually want? Are they satisfied engaging in small-scale agriculture, or do they dream of owning large-scale, industrialized farms?

Regardless of the answer, a couple of things need to happen. Firstly, more agricultural Extension agents need to be women. Research shows that women Extension agents are more likely to be attuned to the specific needs to female farmers, and more likely to prepare education programming specifically for women farmers. Secondly, active efforts to reduce institutionalized barriers against women in agriculture must be made. These include increased access to capital, loans and training for women farmer. Finally, there needs to be greater recognition of the contribution of women to agriculture, not as farmwives who support their husbands, but as primary operators in their own rights.

The number of farms operated by women is growing every year, while the number of farms operated by men is falling, and societal expectations need to catch up with the trends.

Food, identity, and the search for the “American farmer”

This blog began with a daydream. It was a warm day, I’d just had a large lunch, and it was the first day of school. I learned that the theme for my Journalism course would be agriculture, and Wizard-of-Oz-esque scenes of farming landscapes leaped to mind. I saw the hard-working farmer toiling away in his fields, felt the relief of the wind on his sweaty brow, heard the whirr of the tractor in the distance, and glowed in his pride as he surveyed the fruits of his labor. I was so close that with one puff I could have blown the straw hat right off his head.

And then I realized two things about my farmer. First, that he was a he-farmer, and second, the he was a white he-farmer. Strange, given my own personal non-he, non-white characteristics. Was my mind just playing the statistics game with me? 96% of US farms are, after all, operated by white farmers, and only 14% of all farms are primarily operated by women. And let’s not forget that white men in general make up 40% of the total US population. So maybe my imagination is just a  finely-tuned statistical machine, boiling down everything I need to know about the American farmer into a few neat outputs: male. white. hard-working. sweaty.

But as anyone who took a stats class beyond mean, median and mode knows, reality is never as simple as a few convenient outputs. African American farm workers are three times as likely as their white counterparts to be injured in the line of farm-duty.  About 22% more farms are run by women now than in 2002. And that hard-working, sweat-on-the-brow farm worker I was imagining? Probably Hispanic, like the 83% of farm workers who identify themselves as such. He’ll probably own his own farm someday soon, as the number of farms primarily operated by Hispanic owners grew by 10% between 2002 and 2007, while those operated primarily by white farmers fell in the same period.

So food production is not color-blind, and not simply male-dominated. There’s something going on in American agriculture that’s not clearly black and white. There are complex stories behind the statistics, difficult issues behind the daydreams, and a changing structure in the American countryside that mirrors overall changes in the country’s demography. What does this mean to those who work in the system? And what does it mean for American agriculture?

These are the kinds of issues I’m trying to understand through this blog. Outside government-sponsored studies and a few dedicated academics, there’s not a lot of talk, particularly in the American media about non-white communities in agriculture. So I welcome comments and new perspectives on the issues addressed here.

As a word of caution to the reader: I’m not a farmer. My first-hand knowledge of farms consists of childhood memories of weekend trips, and traumatic visions of watching chickens necks being wrung in fascinated horror. Also, if I have a race, I don’t know what it is. My ancestors enjoyed the taboo of interracial marriage long before it was cool, and I have more mixed blood than a particularly gruesome episode of Law & Order. Oh, and I’m also not American. But I do live in Wisconsin, and that counts for a whole lot more than just cheese.

*Unless otherwise cited, the data in this post come from here.