Mari Villaluna never wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. The 36-year-old spent a decade building up a r?sum? as a career counselor and tutor in San Francisco schools after serving in the U.S. Army.
She made about $42,000 at an employment agency, and was regularly sought out by potential employers. After she gave birth to her first child last year, she drew a star on her calendar to mark the day she was supposed to return to work.
“I had a very established career,” Villaluna said. Then, in September, her plan to get a state subsidy for child care fell through, and the single mom couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars on private day care. The day she gave up her beloved 9-to-5 job, she cried for hours.
Villaluna’s decision offers a clue to an economic mystery: Why are American women disappearing from the workforce?
The answer could have stark implications for future growth.
For half a century after World War II, women barreled into the job market in numbers that surged higher every year. They drove most of the rise in real household income for decades and boosted the economy’s total output at a time when men were dropping out of the job market.
Then, all of a sudden, they stopped. Since 2000, the share of women working in their prime earning years has declined.
In 1948, just over a third of prime-age women had a job or sought one. By 1999, after five decades of unrelenting progress, 76.8 percent of those women were in the workforce.
Since then, the participation rate slipped to 74.3 percent, and the number of women not looking for work grew by more than 12,000.
Some see the abrupt reversal as an unsurprising result of more than two decades without any major legislation making it easier for new parents to take time off or pay for child care. Any number of articles and analyses have pondered the effects of a stubborn gender pay gap, inflexible schedules that keep women out of the executive suite and an undercurrent of discrimination that, at its worst, leaves women vulnerable to regular harassment.
Few jobs, low pay
But top economists now are pointing to another explanation. Women seem to be leaving the workforce for some of the same reasons that men are: Middle-class jobs are in short supply and working at the bottom pays less than it used to.
Single women without children drove most of the downturn in women’s workforce participation from 1999 through 2007, according to a study by professor Robert Moffitt of Johns Hopkins University.
Those women don’t have to care for a child and they aren’t counting on a partner to provide for them. They are, Moffitt said, “the same as a lot of men … even though it sounds a little strange to make that analogy.”
They’re also staring down the same long odds as men who lost their footing in an economy in which low-skill jobs that pay well have all been shipped abroad or obliterated by technology.
“Usually people have men in mind when they are talking about the decline in manufacturing and automation, but that happens at the secretarial level too, as computers replace lower-level staff,” Moffitt said.
The collapse of blue-collar jobs for American men is well-known, thanks in part to the movement that powered President Donald Trump’s election. A peak of 97.4 percent prime-age men were in the labor force in 1953. That share declined for decades, plunged during the financial crisis and hit 88.5 percent last year.
But women-dominated fields for low-skill workers also are in a rut. Wages barely budged for women with a high school degree or less over the last decade, while college-educated women continued to get decent raises.
In home health care services, social assistance and laundry services — three industries that are heavily reliant on women — hourly pay for rank-and-file workers has increased by less than $2, in today’s dollars, since 1990.
Discrimination and flattening wages have always weighed on women, said Sandra Black, a professor at the University of Texas at Austin who was on President Obama’s Council of Economic Advisers from 2015 through 2017.
Lorie James ended her 39-year career because she was too tired to keep fighting for recognition.
When James started working for Los Angeles County in 1990, she operated a calculating machine the size of a cash register, tallying up business taxes for the county assessor’s office downtown.
It was 10 years before she was offered a position in human resources, and suddenly she lunged forward on a fast track. She got a bachelor’s degree in labor studies and received four promotions in quick succession.
James, 58, had started her career planning early. When she was 15, she bought copies of the Sunday newspaper to read the classifieds section. She made careful mental notes on the skills companies were looking for and what they were willing to pay people who fit the bill.
“I think it’s part of my purpose,” she said.
But her career hit a series of roadblocks that have picked off countless women on their way up the ladder: a manager who championed her quit and left her rudderless; she was passed over for promotions and was, she felt, unfairly penalized in performance evaluations.
A black woman, James detected a whiff of prejudice. She complained once to her boss but dropped the matter before anyone carried out a formal investigation. “I didn’t want to get blackballed,” James said.
So last year, James took her pension and started looking for a new gig. She’s submitted 50 applications in 12 months and hasn’t landed anything yet.
“I am not ready to give up working,” she said.
