"Did you do anything from 2008 to 2018?"
I'll admit, the interview question caught me off-guard. Maybe because in previous interviews, the obvious gap in my resume had been addressed in a more tactful manner. Questions like, "I notice a gap in your resume. Could you tell me about that?" or, "Can you explain the gap in your employment history?" were to be expected.
But a question containing phrasing, "Did you do anything..." which implied that I had not, in fact, "done anything?" for a decade of my life? That one, I hadn't seen coming.
Usually, my well-prepared answer was understandable, though usually not relatable. Typically, I would summarize the following story: In my early 20s, I'd been on a professional career path that I adored. But that plan was derailed when my husband of 1.5 years was killed in a tragic freak accident, completely upending my world.
With the birth of our daughter seven months later, I became a single mother, and after working for a couple of years, I realized that I didn't want to miss the time with my daughter that I was now missing with my husband.
Thus, I resigned. For ten years, I stayed home with our daughter and loved almost every minute of it. When she was older and more self-sufficient, I figured I would have plenty of opportunity to rededicate myself to my career plan.
In other words: Life. Happened.
Normally my well-rehearsed explanation would elicit sympathetic nods and murmured comments of understanding.
But this time, unprepared, I faltered in my explanation as I mentally wrestled with the interviewer's implication. Had it just been suggested that, perhaps, I'd wasted 10 years of my life "not doing anything?"
So often in the United States, people who take time out of the paid workforce are seen as "less than." Their contributions don't matter, aren't legitimate, and that which can't be quantified by a paycheck or neatly translated onto a resume or LinkedIn profile doesn't count.
Take time off to bond with your new baby? To care for an elderly parent? To support a family member or friend experiencing terminal cancer, dementia, or another devastating diagnosis? To recover from addiction? To literally travel the world? Life happens, and sometimes we need—or want—time to experience it without the additional stress of 40+ hours of work every week.
But expect to pay for that time away when you return to the workforce. The stigma is real.
And never did I feel that stigma more as when the young college grad in his late 20s posed the question: "Did you do anything from 2008 to 2018?"
Yes. Yes, I did.
I single-handedly raised a daughter. Every bedtime, tear, tantrum, and milestone was mine to navigate, struggle through, and celebrate. When she was older--and I determined it to be in her best interest—we started homeschooling, which we continued for seven years.
Meanwhile, I chauffeured around my elderly grandmother to doctors' appointments, fun outings, and errands. I, with my daughter, volunteered regularly at the local food pantry, as I wanted to teach her the value of contributing to the community. I published my personal narrative in the iconic women's magazine, Good Housekeeping.
I coordinated extensive, yet inexpensive, travel abroad. I renovated a home, creating a cozy "tiny mansion" (of about 600 sq. ft!) for my daughter and me. I served on the Board of my daughter's playgroup, composed of mothers and their children who'd formed wonderful bonds of friendship. I sat with my aunt for almost every chemo treatment when her own children were too far away.
Like most people who take time away from the paid workforce, I could continue this list.
And I wish I'd recalled some of these highlights when I answered the interviewer's question. "Those were the years I stayed home with my daughter," was the only response I could muster, acutely aware of the stigma, the judgment, and trying not to feel like a person worth less because my fiscal contribution to the economy wasn't more.
If only life experiences, not just employment experiences, were valued. If only we looked at the whole person—his or her work ethic, integrity, and willingly to help make our world a better place. If only we did not judge that which we don't know and offered empathy for that which we do.
"Did you do anything from 2008 to 2018?"
I stand by my answer: Yes. I did a lot of things. Perhaps, in fact, I did the most important things.
Amy Kimmet-Humfeld is a part-time traveler, budding equestrian, and former teacher who recently completed a contract recruiting position and is excitedly searching for her next career opportunity. You can find her on Instagram @amy_kimmethumfeld.
All views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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