Happiness is a warm pasta. Not.

We may never understand “what women want”, what WE want as women, but whatever it is, surveys suggest that it is independent of where we live, how old we are, or what we do in life.    Thirty-seven years ago, when the General Social Survey in the US began tracking the level of societal contentment, American women were happier than men. We were happier in our 20s and happier, though by a lesser percentage, in our 60s.   We were happier single and married, working and not. 

This has changed over time.  Today men in the US are happier than women overall (though black women are slightly happier than their past counterparts).   When the latest survey to this effect was reported last month, there was a lot of public hand-wringing and analysis in the American press about why this was so. 

Ignored was the reality that women in 35 economically-developed countries have followed the same pattern.  To varying degrees, depending on the country, women’s reported “happiness” is lower than it has been anytime since the Eurobarometer analysis (from 1973) and the International Social Survey Program (from 1991) began their studies.  

What is weird and hard to explain is why Italian women are unhappier than the average.  In spite of living longer than women anywhere in the world except Japan, in spite of being in better physical shape in terms of weight and proportion than women in any other country in Europe (forget us, the obesity-challenged Americans), and in spite of living in ITALY – the land that invented dolce vita, designer clothes, and pasta col pesto -- Italian women are unhappier than their counterparts on the continent and around the globe, and have been since the 1970s. 

WHY?  one wonders.  The malaise in the US has been attributed to our abundance of choice and stress resulting from our striving to be career women, sexy singles, exemplary wives, and perfect mothers.   But Italy?  Italian women don’t face these stresses and expectations, not to the same degree.  They live at home longer, marry later, have fewer children (if any), are less likely to work outside the home, and – when they do have paying jobs -- harbor lower career aspirations than we do.  The problems that afflict us in the US affect them less, if at all.  So why should they be unhappier than we are?  And why are they reportedly less happy than their mothers and grandmothers?   They are economically much better off, and that counts a lot in a country that spends more per capita than any other in Europe for clothes, watches, diamonds, gold, furs, automobiles, and second homes.  Italian women are healthier than their mothers, better traveled, far better-educated, and less burdened by large families.

When I asked a number of Italian women in Milan whether they thought they were happier than their mothers (a completely unscientific survey covering 10 women ages 24 to 66 from different social levels), all of them said “yes”.   All of them mentioned their relative affluence, compared to their mothers, and their independent incomes (for those who worked).  “My mom had two children when she was my age,” said an unmarried career woman in her early 30s.  “She was frustrated because she would have liked a university degree but she didn’t have the opportunity.”

“I wanted a job so I could earn some money on my own,” reported a retired administrative assistant in her late 50s.   “Very few of my friends were working, and my husband made a good living, but I wanted to get outside the house.  My mother didn’t have that option.  However, I still set my table with fresh flowers and an ironed tablecloth every night, because I like living in a well-cared-for home.”

An unmarried woman in her late 20s, who runs her own business, mentioned travel as a benefit she enjoys, compared to her mother.  “My mom also worked; she ran a restaurant with her husband, but she had to take care of the children and the house as well as the restaurant.  So she was really stressed.  We survived okay, but the restaurant didn’t and neither did the marriage.”

An anecdotal inquiry can’t be compared to a valid survey, of course, so one has to look elsewhere to figure out why Italian women appear to be so frustrated.   One source of discontent is their lack of confidence in the institutions of government.  This isn’t a recent phenomenon as a result of Berlusconi:  Italians of both sexes have long suspected politicians of having no one’s interests in mind but their own.  Cynicism about Italy’s political system has grown over the years, probably with good reason.

Another factor is rooted in cultural mores:  Italians doesn’t award social recognition to women who work outside the home and have an independent income.  Compared to most other European countries, women don’t get a kind of societal seal of approval for doing this.  While in the US, we are scrutinized if we don’t earn some money (and the more we earn, the better we rank), our Italian counterparts are viewed with benevolent curiosity when they develop successful careers.  Behind their backs, there is the wink-wink that they would be much happier at home managing the household and caring for children . . . ignoring the fact that they seem more and more loathe to produce offspring. At the same time, Italian women are among the most fervent in insisting (at least to opinion poll takers) that when they work outside the home, the impact is positive for their children.  

Another contradiction in beliefs:  Italy has among the highest proportions of people of both sexes who believe that

1, men should be given priority when jobs are scarce

2. women are at greater risk of becoming unemployed than men.

In such an oxymoronic social context, and in an economic environment that practically mandates two incomes per household, is it any wonder that Italian women feel unhappy?     In comparison, what do WE really have to be unhappy about?  Our complaints are self-generated, not dictated by men who set the rules, as is the case in Italy.   So when American women fret about “too many” choices for fulfillment, their complaints sound about as limp to me as, well, cold spaghetti. 

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Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at www.flisi.net.    Her thoughts about European women and beauty are found here:  http://frenchfacelift.blogspot.com/  and about horse riding here: www.worldreviewer.com/member/claudia-flisi/