A New Marriage Proposal

By Rebecca Winters

Elsewhere in America, a family therapist, a pastor or a wise grandparent might perform Karen Faverey's job. But in Delaware Terrace, a rambling brick housing project in the Rust Belt town of Easton, Pa., Faverey, a serene mother of six, is paid by the Federal Government to enter the living rooms of unwed, low-income couples and ask a loaded question. "You know which question I'm talking about," Faverey says to Lamont Sims and Stephanie Bryant, who live and work in Delaware Terrace, he in the maintenance department, she as a receptionist. They have dated for 2 1/2 years. Sims, 31, nods. "Lately, I'm discussing it on my own, 'cause I don't know what page she's on," he says. Resting his chin in his hand, Sims turns to Bryant, 30, who cradles their infant son, Stephan, in her arms. "How," he asks, "do you feel about marriage?"

He's not the only one asking. While academics of all political stripes agree that children are better off in stable, two-parent homes, how active a role government should play in fostering marriage is a matter of debate. Faverey assists a Healthy Relationships and Marriage Education course, a pilot program funded by President Bush's Healthy Marriage Initiative. The Administration sees marriage education as a tonic for poverty and other societal problems, particularly when children are involved. In the welfare reauthorization bill now pending in the Senate, the White House has asked Congress to spend $1.5 billion on such programs--a bold request in a time of huge budget deficits, a fervid national debate over the very meaning of marriage and uncertainty over the effectiveness of marriage-education policies.

Critics worry that money spent on these programs will divert resources from other worthy antipoverty efforts such as child welfare and refugee resettlement or that marriage educators could unwittingly pressure women to stay in abusive relationships. The National Organization for Women's Legal Defense and Education Fund, recently renamed Legal Momentum, charged that the course Sims and Bryant attended specifically emphasized job services for men but mentioned nothing about finding work for mothers. "We were shocked that one of the programs being funded would reinforce existing stereotypes about men and women, advocating a passive role for women," says Jennifer Brown, Legal Momentum's vice president. "Women in poverty need their own jobs to lift their families out." The group filed a sex-discrimination complaint with the Office for Civil Rights of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS).

But mainly, liberals and libertarians argue that marriage is a private decision and that, as Brown says,"There are some issues that just should not involve government." Wade Horn, Assistant Secretary for Children and Families at HHS, points out that marriages are already subject to state and federal meddling--especially when they dissolve. "You want government intrusion in family life?" Horn asks. "Get divorced. The government will tell you when you see your kid, how much you pay in child support. It can even garnishee your wages." The Healthy Marriage Initiative, Horn says, should ultimately result in less government oversight, largely because "children who grow up in healthy and stable families have less need for social services."

The 35 couples who have taken the 12-week Pennsylvania course since it was launched in July 2003 would probably line up on the side of getting all the help they can get. The classes are run by Community Services for Children (CSC), a nonprofit organization that oversees Head Start programs in Allentown, Pa. On Monday nights, couples convene at a Boys & Girls Club, dropping off their children with caregivers provided by the program. The moms and dads share canned soda and free dinners such as chicken, potatoes and gravy before the two instructors--Gregory Edwards, author of the program's curriculum, and a female social worker--lead discussions on finances, household chores and parenting. Faverey, a mentor for Head Start families who is trained in relationship and child-development issues, follows up by visiting each couple at home once a week. She helps them create and follow a "relationship road map"--a list of goals like buying a home or marrying within two years, and the efforts taken to achieve them. Such techniques would be useful for any couple, but there are also parts of the program specific to its target audience. Halfway through the course, for example, Edwards introduces a subject likely to go uncovered at the typical $200 weekend marriage seminar attended by middle-class couples. "When I say paternity, what comes to mind?" he asks. "Blood test," says one man. "Knowing that your child is yours," volunteers another.

To enter the course, couples must be unmarried with a child under age 1. Faverey recruits them by calling parents in CSC's Head Start programs. The group is mainly African Americans and Hispanics in their 20s and 30s, populations in which single-parent households are prevalent. While white families have an 81% chance of including a married couple, Hispanics have a 67% chance and African Americans a 46% chance. For low-income couples like the ones in the class, trading vows is often a lower priority than managing day-to-day dramas like finding housing, treating a health condition or looking for work. "When you're living in a perpetual state of crisis," says Edwards, "how do you think about an engagement ring?"

Edwards' couples have begun thinking about marriage, however. More than 80% have identified marriage as a goal. Two of the 35 couples in the program have married, and 10 have become engaged, including Ramona Rose, 27, and Lance Hankerson, 26. Neither Rose nor Hankerson works, for health reasons--he has multiple sclerosis, and she suffered disabling complications while pregnant with their daughter Maelyn, now 10 months old. (Rose also has a daughter, Zaria, 4, from another relationship.) Both Rose and Hankerson grew up in Delaware Terrace, and Hankerson says he harbored a crush on Rose from age 11. But it was just two years ago that she finally relented to his flirting--"'cause I was ready for one of the good guys," says Rose. She says she signed up for the course "to save our relationship" from constant arguments, especially about how her bingo habit affects their finances. Hankerson reluctantly agreed to participate, but midway through the course, the couple was ready to give up. "I picked fights," Rose confesses. "I cut him off. I always had to have last, first, in-between words." Hankerson often deflects conflict with a joke--"Sometimes I want to happily choke her," he says. The soft-spoken father says Faverey drew him out during the home visits and showed Rose how to listen. "She helps us see both sides," he says after the last class, as Faverey checks on the couple's progress toward their goal of leaving public housing. "Is there any way you can keep coming?" Hankerson asks her. After the course ends, the home visits drop to one a month, stopping when the CSC'S $177,374 grant runs out in December.

The program's administrators are sensitive to the criticisms of marriage education. In response to Legal Momentum's discrimination complaint, they say they already had job services for the mothers in place, through the Head Start programs. "We never discriminate on the basis of gender," says CSC executive director Pat Levin. Concluding an investigation into the charges last month, HHS agreed with Levin. And her claim does seem to be true--at one home visit, Faverey helped Rose identify some jobs she could apply for despite her medical condition. CSC says it also screens for domestic violence and refers some couples to counseling services rather than encouraging marriage as a near-term goal. "We're not in business of taking folk to the altar," says instructor Edwards. "We're promoting healthy relationships." Though the last course will conclude in December, Edwards says CSC will continue to incorporate lessons about marriage and relationships into its work. The agency's Head Start staff, for instance, now gets training to identify and mentor parents in conflict.

The course's graduates, meanwhile, are trying to fit matrimony into their life plans. "Marriage is a chance you have to take," says Sims. His partner, Bryant, still isn't sure. She and Sims have been hunting for months for a home they can afford outside the projects. "I do want to be married someday," she says. "And Lamont would make a good husband. I just don't think we're there yet."