I Like to Watch

Ex-wives on the verge of a nervous breakdown, from USA's "The Starter Wife" to Bravo's "Real Housewives of Atlanta" to NBC's "Kath & Kim."

By Heather Havrilesky

Read more: TV, Arts & Entertainment, Heather Havrilesky, I Like to Watch

Oct. 5, 2008 | Why does the word "wife" still have negative undertones after all these years? Even if a woman has a career but splits household tasks with her husband, tackling the finances and mowing the lawn while he changes diapers and cooks dinner, there's still something about being referred to as a "wife" that conjures up a vision of a blank slate of a woman, looming around the house like a ghost, dusting off the windowsills and folding the clothes while she waits for her children and her man to come home from their busy and important lives.

When you have your own life, your own talents, your own thoughts, your own desires, but your nature keeps you close to your brood despite your ambitions, the word "wife" fits like a scratchy, ill-fitting sweater on a hot day. Mother? Sure. Partner? Maybe. Girlfriend, fiancée, bride? All exciting and full of hope. But wife? It's a term that lacks honor and prestige, hints at a supporting role and reeks of impending disaster.

On TV, wives are invisible or frivolous or desperate or worse. But even in the real world, it's hard to find strong-willed role models who'll happily answer to the name "wife." There are just women behind closed doors, stubbornly drawing lines in the sand, trying to be good wives without being referred to as good wives, trying to help without making those around them helpless, trying to stay connected without caving in to the centuries of compromise that came before them.

Breaking out in wives
If that sounds a little paranoid, familiarize yourself with the daily lives of "The Real Housewives of Atlanta" (premieres 9 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 7, on Bravo), women who brag about their vast armies of household employees, shop for overpriced designer clothes, get their hair done and then gush endlessly about what a huge entrance they're going to make at an upcoming party. If there were a show called "The Real Husbands of Atlanta," and they spent their time nattering about such trivia, they'd be the laughingstock of the Southeast.

At least this version of the "Real Housewives" franchise introduces us to a new and mostly unfamiliar microcosm: upper-class African-American women in the suburbs of Atlanta, which the ladies refer to as "the land of opportunity for African-Americans" and the "black Hollywood." Compared with the tacky, fake-breasted, Mega-rita-swilling blondes of Orange County or even the snooty, wealth-obsessed, social-climbing harpies of New York City, these women are far more intriguing.

Apparently most Americans were largely unaware that their country was home to plenty of educated, upper- and upper-middle-class African-Americans until Barack Obama burst onto their TV screens. Against a backdrop of angry baby mamas on "Montel Williams" or fake-nail-pointing, booty-shaking hoochies on "Flavor of Love," then, there's some small taste of justice in seeing beautiful black women getting their hair done in their own private salon chairs, or laughing and teasing each other while shopping for expensive handbags at pricey boutiques. Forcing black power and wealth into the public consciousness must at least have some redeeming value.

"I'm in the process of interviewing key staff members," says DeShawn, who's married to Cleveland Cavaliers guard Eric Snow. "An estate manager, an executive housekeeper, a maid crew, a chef, a governess and a nanny." Excessive? Maybe, but there's still something refreshing about seeing a black woman -- other than Oprah -- commanding a household staff of six on mainstream TV.

Of course, it's the men who are bringing home the bacon in this picture. DeShawn is an NBA wife, Lisa is married to NFL player Ed Hartwell, Sheree is going through a rough divorce and hopes to get a "seven-figure" settlement, Kim is bankrolled by her off-screen "multimillionaire celebrity" boyfriend (whom she affectionately refers to as "Big Papa"), and NeNe, a voluptuous beauty, proclaims that the secret to her rich, older husband's heart is not through his stomach. These women all appear strong and independent, buoyed by a great sense of humor (NeNe and Kim) or a strong entrepreneurial spirit (Sheree and Lisa), but the fact remains that their continued freedom to flit about town shopping for luxury cars depends to some extent on keeping their husbands (or at least their divorce lawyers) satisfied.

As with the rest of the "Housewives" franchise, the aim here is to show how frivolous and wealth obsessed these women are, and most of them are more than happy to oblige. "I'm around a lot of women who are very wealthy," says NeNe, proudly. Later, Kim, the one white woman in the group, who describes herself as "a black woman trapped inside a white woman's body," says to the camera, "I could die tomorrow, I want to die in Dior."

It's nice that these women are a little less predictable and more fun than their Orange County or New York City counterparts. But while they may be expanding the typical American's mind about race and class, these ladies aren't exactly improving the concept of what it means to be a wife, outside of making it look easy for those who have the money to outsource the job.

Next page: "Kath & Kim," lost in translation?