What everybody does know, of course, is that she is very pregnant with twins. As it happens, the first time Swift made national headlines, was also the last time she was pregnant — when she was plucked from an obscure state job to run for lieutenant governor alongside Cellucci.
The next time she hit the news was when she made state police pilot her across the state in a helicopter for Thanksgiving when young Elizabeth was sick. Next, when she made her staff drive a U-HAUL to install her into a new house. Then, when she had staffers baby-sit Elizabeth for free. We know that a state vehicle drives her across the state some nights so she can give Elizabeth baths.
Which leads, inevitably, to the questions posed by Swift's elevation: Can women have it all? Does the Supermom exist? It's stay-at-home mom vs. career-woman-turned-nation's-youngest governor. What's a girl to do?
These questions, though, may be the wrong ones to ask. How many mothers have the option to demand that state police take them across a state to see their kids? To pretend that she is Everywoman is downright silly. And unfair to others, who have real-life concerns. And who aren't being paid by the taxpayers to be a role model for their gender or to prove a point.
When asked about this, Swift has explained that “I love public policy. I love being a mom. I have nowhere near enough hours in the day.” She has said that her capacity to be a mother and a career woman is long settled. She says that she will never work Saturday or Sunday as long as she is governor. And while conceding that “once again I will be giving birth at a less-than-opportune time in my professional career,” she almost dismisses this as a trifling inconvenience. And something unavoidable. She says, “But almost every friend I have who is a mom has regrets about a particular choice at a particular time. Those who work, those who don't work. There isn't a perfect solution.”
Recently, in The American Prospect, Radcliffe Professor Wendy Kaminer wrote that Swift could have planned things better. One presumes the pro-choice Kaminer means that Swift could have aborted for the sake of the commonwealth of Massachusetts. Of course, that misses the point, too. A feminist's sacred “choice” seems never to be fully considered. Why don't some women realize that it is their choice to become governor of Massachusetts. It is not their right. If you can't hack it, don't do it.
Rather than play role model to her happy band of feminist cheerleaders, Swift needs to start paying attention to the needs of the people of Massachusetts.
What does Jane Swift owe the Massachusetts voter? Considering the last time they elected her (she had just given birth), voters cannot claim they were blindsided. Sure, they didn't know Cellucci would move to Canada, but a lieutenant governor, everyone knows, is always a potential governor. And it's not as if she was a quiet lieutenant.
Today, Swift's poll numbers are down. And the Massachusetts voters will soon be able to make up their minds about her fate.
So, what, if anything, is the significance of the Jane Swift story? Simply put, this is a woman with overwhelming obligations. If she and her husband can't or don't want to make arrangements that would ensure that their kids are adequately cared for while she administers state business, she ought to go home and make way for someone who can. End of story. That is, until the hagiographic Lifetime special, G.I. Jane: She Did It Her Way.
(This article also appears on National Review Online.)
