Subjective social mobility - SAGE Journals

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Subjective social mobility: Definitions and expectations of ‘moving up’ of poor Moroccan women in the Netherlands

International Sociology 26(4) 503–523 © The Author(s) 2011 Reprints and permission: sagepub. co.uk/journalsPermissions.nav DOI: 10.1177/0268580910393042 iss.sagepub.com

Marguerite van den Berg University of Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Abstract Social mobility is most commonly measured in terms of occupational prestige or educational attainment. Alternative approaches to social mobility can mostly be found in qualitative research. However, these approaches also often conceptualize social mobility as attainment of occupational status or educational degrees. Interpreting the narratives of Moroccan migrant women in the Netherlands, alternative definitions of social mobility are discerned that go beyond formal schooling or paid work and which contribute to a broader definition of class and ‘social upgrading’. What is striking is how the women subscribe to dominant definitions of mobility for their children and have alternative definitions for themselves that are grounded in their social context.

Keywords gender, migration, social mobility, subjective definitions

Researching social mobility Social mobility is most commonly measured in terms of occupational prestige or (less often) educational attainment (Bertaux and Thompson, 1997; Blau and Duncan, 1967; Breen, 2004; Ganzeboom, 2010; Goldthorpe, 2003; Lampard, 2007). This dominant ‘survey paradigm’ (Bertaux and Thompson, 1997: 5) of social mobility has proven meaningful for measuring a specific kind of class movement within and between generations. Social mobility and class stratification are of course classic subjects in the discipline of sociology. The quantitative, survey-driven study of these processes, has, however, evolved into a specialized field that is heavily focused on technical innovations

Corresponding author: Marguerite van den Berg, University of Amsterdam, Amsterdam Institute for Social Science Research, Kloveniersburgwal 48, 1012 CX Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Email: [email protected]

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and model-making (Bertaux and Thompson, 1997; Savage, 1997). The gap between research in the ‘survey paradigm’ and other kinds of social scientific investigations of class and mobility has become quite large. A gender-sensitive alternative tradition of research on these issues can be found in more ethnographic, qualitative accounts (Bertaux and Thompson, 1997; Crompton, 2006; Dominguez and Watkins, 2003; Higginbotham and Weber, 1992; Payne and Abbott, 1990; Segura, 1989). These accounts make more room for subjective definitions of mobility and class movement. One of the problems of the ‘survey paradigm’ of mobility that have been identified by scholars in the 1990s and after, is the gender biased nature of much dominant conceptualizations of social mobility (Higginbotham and Weber, 1992; Miller, 1998; Payne and Abbott, 1990). Of course, since then, the field of social mobility studies and stratification sociology has greatly developed. However, most quantitative research on ‘moving up’ the social ladder still focuses on models of occupational prestige (see, for example, Breen, 2004; Goldthorpe, 2003; Lambert et al., 2007; Lampard, 2007; Miller, 1998). Many accounts in the qualitative alternative tradition also often focus on educational attainment and occupational mobility (see, for example, Bettie, 2002; Newman, 1999; Segura, 1989). This alternative tradition and the ‘survey paradigm’ thus have in common that they research ‘social upgrading’ by looking predominantly at occupational and educational attainment and therefore interpreting ‘class’ in what some would say (Bourdieu, 1989; Reay, 1997) a rather narrow way. In this article, I build on existing critique of social mobility research (Bertaux and Thompson, 1997; Higginbotham and Weber, 1992; Savage, 1997; Segura, 1989) to go beyond this definition in the case of Moroccan migrant women in the Netherlands, by looking at the subjective definitions and expectations of social mobility beyond formal schooling or paid work. Examples of such definitions are housing mobility and a sense of emancipation from family and the state. By analysing the narratives of the women, a broader definition of class and ‘social upgrading’ can be found that is in accordance with Bourdieu’s (1989, 1996) work on class distinction. Bourdieu sees class and social inequality as the product of four types of capital – economic, cultural, social and symbolic capital – ‘which is the form that the various species of capital assume when they are perceived and recognized as legitimate’ (Bourdieu, 1989: 17; see also Schinkel, 2003). Class in Bourdieu’s definition is thus not limited to educational levels, income or job status, but can also encompass cultural taste or certain social networks that give status. Bourdieu’s approach provides helpful insights to go beyond the narrow definition of class and mobility, especially because of the focus on symbolic capital, which allows for an analysis of which specific forms of capital are highly valued in what specific networks, like the Moroccan networks researched in Rotterdam. Social mobility in this article is defined loosely as ‘class upgrading’ and ‘moving up the social ladder’. The way in which respondents define class upgrading is considered social mobility here, precisely because the definition of social mobility needs to be expanded to shed light on alternative pathways beyond the dominant model. The image of Moroccan migrant women in the Netherlands deriving from dominant social mobility research is that of a largely immobile group (see, for example, Keuzenkamp and Merens, 2006; Pels and De Gruijter, 2004). Yet, during qualitative research on the social position of Moroccan migrant women in the Netherlands, the women told me about

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various alternative forms of getting ahead, or ‘moving up’. The alternative routes, definitions and expectations of social mobility of these women are overshadowed by a focus on formal educational levels and paid labour in dominant research. Furthermore, the distinction between self-defined first and second generation proves crucial, because the women in this study apply a dominant conception of social mobility when it comes to their children, but use alternative conceptions and expectations for themselves. This fits in with theories that say that immigrants who moved for work and settled in the country they migrated to strive for class upgrading almost by definition, but are not always able to accomplish these goals for themselves using the mainstream routes such as education (Portes and Rumbaut, 2006; Portes and Zhou, 1993; Rusinovic, 2006). The children of these migrants are therefore stimulated to do so. After all, climbing the social ladder was the primary purpose of their parents’ migration (Buitelaar, 2007). The research questions guiding this article are: (1) How do Moroccan first-generation migrant women define and experience ‘moving up’? (2) What do these definitions of mobility and narratives of ‘moving up’ of Moroccan migrant women themselves add to dominant definitions in mainstream research?

The case: Moroccan women in Rotterdam Migration history Most Moroccan migrants migrated to the Netherlands following the migration of guest workers in the 1960s and 1970s who migrated for jobs in Western Europe (France, Belgium). Moroccan first-generation women mostly came to the Netherlands because of marriage. Some were married to Moroccan men in Morocco who later went to Europe as guest workers and after the 1973 economic crisis brought their wives and children to stay because of the risk that going back to Morocco in these economic insecure times entailed (De Mas, 2001; Nelissen and Buijs, 2000). But most Moroccan women came to the Netherlands because they married a previously migrated Moroccan young man or a second-generation Moroccan-Dutch. Thus, for the Moroccan population in the Netherlands, the dominant and (in general) outdated conceptualization of female migration as dependent on men actually applies: the women migrated because of the men and came primarily to have children and raise a family (for a discussion on gender and migration theories, see Boyd and Grieco, 2003; applied to Moroccan migration to the Netherlands: Buitelaar, 2007; Pels, 2000). Most Moroccan migrants to the Netherlands (and Belgium) come from small villages in the rural northern highlands: the ‘Rif Mountains’. Many, especially women migrants from Morocco, were poorly educated and often also illiterate. Marriages were often arranged by family or local networks (De Mas 2001; Nelissen and Buijs, 2000; Pels and De Haan, 2003).1 In 2009, approximately 345,000 people are considered Moroccans by the Dutch Statistics Bureau.2

Data and methods The women in this article share a similar migration history. All the women in this research define themselves as Moroccan immigrants. They are between 25 and 45 years of age,

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born in Morocco, and migrated to the Netherlands because they married a Moroccan immigrant who was already lived in the Netherlands having migrated with his parents before (and is thus a part of the second generation). All women are still married and all have children (between two and five children, from infant to 30 years of age). Most women in this study are from the north of Morocco, from places like Berkane, Al Hoceima, Nador and Oujda. Some were from the large metropolitan areas: Agadir, Rabat and Fes. Most women speak a Berber language (Tamazight) and (often an elementary form of) Dutch; some speak primarily Arabic. All respondents spoke sufficient Dutch to do the interviews and discussions in Dutch. The socioeconomic position of the women (and of a large portion of the Moroccan population in the Netherlands, see above) is precarious. Many of them depend on welfare benefits and live off an income close to the ‘poverty line’. The women refer to themselves as ‘poor’ and are as such categorized in social policy. This analysis of alternative forms and ideas of ‘moving up’ is based on data that I collected during 2005 and 2006 in a qualitative fieldwork study in an urban neighbourhood in Rotterdam (Delfshaven), the second largest city in the Netherlands of almost 600,000 inhabitants. Delfshaven is a neighbourhood in which 13 percent of the population is firstor second-generation Moroccan, 72 percent is first- or second-generation migrant and 28 percent is ‘indigenous3 Dutch’ (autochtoon in Dutch).4 The study was set up to research the social capital and social mobility of Moroccan migrant women in an intersectional approach focusing on gender, ethnicity and class (see Van den Berg, 2007 for more information on this research). I participated in citizenship courses (inburgering), volunteering projects, taught Moroccan women Dutch in their homes for two years, participated in community development projects and documented my observations, as well as formal and informal conversations. Because my research focused on Moroccan lower class women in precarious socioeconomic positions, citizenship courses and other projects for lower class inhabitants of Delfshaven were a good place to meet respondents. Most of the women in these courses and projects were dependent on income support. And, vice versa, women that are dependent on income support in the Netherlands are obliged to participate in such mandatory courses. Because of this obligation, I was able to meet women that did not usually participate in state-financed activities but did so now in the mandatory courses. Although not a representative sample of Moroccan lower class immigrant women in Rotterdam, for these reasons, it is highly plausible that women with different profiles and aspiration levels (though all in precarious socioeconomic positions) are part of this research. In total, approximately 50 women were involved in the research, which most often meant that I would talk with them during these activities, or they would be part of a group discussion. I interviewed 10 of these 50 women one-onone in depth.

Moroccan women staying behind in dominant mobility research The social position of immigrant women is a much debated topic in the Netherlands (Ghorashi, 2003, 2006; Keuzenkamp, 2007; Saharso, 2000, 2003; Van den Berg and Schinkel, 2009). Moroccan women in particular are portrayed in public debate as a very

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vulnerable group with relatively small chances of social mobility (for examples of books that became part of public debate, see Jurgens, 2007; Kleijwegt, 2005). Social scientific research on social mobility of Moroccan immigrants often has similar conclusions: Moroccan first-generation women are not moving up the social ladder (Keuzenkamp and Merens, 2006; NGR, 2005). Many policy initiatives (such as social policies to stimulate ‘active citizenship’ of Moroccan women) are based on (among other things) these outcomes of research. Social mobility interpreted as the attainment of occupational status and formal education levels is considered an important aspect of the integration and assimilation of minorities in the Netherlands (Van Tubergen, 2004; for a critical analysis of Dutch integration research, see Schinkel, 2007, 2010). Political debates on the integration of migrants into Dutch society often centre on gender issues. The social mobility of the women in this study is also a highly symbolic issue in Dutch political and public debate (Van den Berg and Schinkel, 2009). The picture of immobile Moroccan immigrant women often emerges from largescale, quantitative research that is based on dominant models of mobility that only look at education and occupation, and on top of that use quite strict criteria. For example, in the research of the Social and Cultural Planning Bureau, paid labour for fewer than 12 hours per week is not considered labour market participation (Keuzenkamp and Merens, 2006). This is one of the reasons why it appears that Moroccan women are a particularly immobile group that, once migrated to the Netherlands, do not enrol in formal educational programmes, stay short of obtaining degrees and almost never perform paid labour. It should be noted that this picture only applies to first-generation migrant women, because all research shows quite solid intergenerational mobility (Keuzenkamp and Merens, 2006; Pels and De Gruijter, 2004).

Intergenerational mobility Intergenerational social mobility, that is to say the mobility of the second-generation immigrants relative to their parents’ (in the case of Moroccan migrants in the Netherlands), is substantial. Participation in the educational system of Moroccan women in the Netherlands, for example, has increased. Second-generation Moroccan women in the Netherlands go to school more often and also have longer educational careers than before (Crul, 2000). Women drop out of school less often than Moroccan men (Pels and De Gruijter, 2004). The number of Moroccan women without an official degree is thereby decreasing. The level of education has increased quite substantially as well. In 2002, a little over 60 percent of Moroccans between the ages of 15 and 64 had a very low educational level. This is a much higher figure than that of indigenous women, but much less than in 1992. The participation in higher education of Moroccan second-generation women has doubled in five years (Pels and De Gruijter, 2004). Crul (2000) already showed in 2000 how Moroccan girls performed just as well in school as Dutch authochton girls with similar backgrounds (in terms of education level of parents). The intergenerational social mobility in terms of educational attainment of Moroccan women has thus substantially increased. The labour participation of Moroccan women is increasing as well. Forty-one percent of second-generation Moroccan women (compared to 59 percent of Dutch indigenous women; see Portegijs et al., 2006) participate in paid labour for

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more than 12 hours per week, whereas many of their mothers do not. Also, secondgeneration Moroccan women experience substantial mobility in job status (Keuzenkamp and Merens, 2006). A clear picture of intergenerational social mobility thus surfaces from large-scale studies. However, intragenerational social mobility for the first generation seems to be almost absent. Does this mean that first-generation Moroccan women do not ‘move up’, do not attain better social positions and are immobile? Very different answers to these questions are possible depending on the conceptualization of social mobility and the research methods that are used. A picture of immobility and stagnation for women that migrated themselves (first generation) surfaces from studies such as that of Keuzenkamp and Merens (2006). The focus on paid labour and education of course leads to valuable information on the position of these women and intergenerational social mobility in relation to the rest of the population, but the picture of the improvement of social positions of these women deriving from it is too limited and is in need of further research.

Social mobility, migration, assimilation One of the most important frames through which the social mobility of immigrants has been studied is that of theories of assimilation. Part of what is commonly defined as assimilation is the attainment of social positions within the host society (Kasinitz et al., 2004; Portes and Zhou, 1993; Rusinovic, 2006). A lively debate and expanded research on assimilation of the second generation (the children of postwar migrants) currently exists (see, for instance, Alba and Nee, 2003; Kasinitz et al., 2004; Portes and Zhou, 1993; Rusinovic, 2006). A very influential frame through which to assess secondgeneration migrants’ assimilation in the country in which they were born and to where their parents migrated is Portes and Zhou’s (1993) theory of segmented assimilation. For the purpose of this article, it is important to note that for some time researchers have expressed concerns that Moroccan immigrants’ children would fall into what has been termed the trap of ‘downward assimilation’ (Portes and Zhou, 1993): the adaptation to the social position and behaviour of the Dutch lower classes (Crul and Vermeulen, 2003). The low education levels of the guest workers and their wives who migrated to the Netherlands in combination with the lack of chances for social mobility for the first generation because of structural constraints and the struggling Dutch economy in the decades after their arrival had many worried. Portes and Zhou’s framework of segmented assimilation substantiates this worry. However, as we have seen in the earlier sections, Moroccans in the Netherlands have not assimilated downwards and have, in fact, shown very strong intergenerational mobility (see also Crul and Vermeulen, 2003). Buitelaar (2005, 2007) has studied the experiences of social mobility of upwardly mobile, highly educated second-generation Moroccan women in the Netherlands. Although this article is about alternative definitions, experiences and expectations of ‘moving up’ of first-generation Moroccan women, it is worth noting that second-generation women often struggle with their parents’ expectations and the ‘aspirations intrinsic to migration’ (Buitelaar, 2007: 3). Their parents (and especially their mothers) did not have the opportunities for social upgrading that these young women have. The women in Buitelaar’s study feel they have to achieve because of the sacrifices their parents made

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(for similar accounts in the US, cf. Kasinitz et al., 2004). In this way, the intergenerational social mobility that is apparent for Moroccan migrants and their children in the Netherlands can be seen as a collective project that goes beyond the individual achievement of the children. In fact, their parents migrated precisely because they wanted their children and their families as a whole to have better lives.

Alternative approaches to social mobility The ‘survey paradigm’ (Bertaux and Thompson, 1997: 5) – the quantitative, surveydriven tradition of social mobility research – is one of the most established research traditions in contemporary western sociology. Alternative approaches are far less specialized or institutionalized. Alternatives are manifold, but mostly consist of qualitative case studies of families or communities (cf. Bertaux and Thompson, 1997). Many alternative studies critique the ‘survey paradigm’ for overshadowing the complexity of processes of mobility and claim a perspective that allows for more nuance and contextualization of the process (see, for example, Andes, 1992; Bertaux and Thompson, 1997; Bettie, 2002; Cain, 2007; Dominguez and Watkins, 2003; Higginbotham and Weber, 1992; Lawler, 1999; Payne and Abbott, 1990; Savage, 1997). Feminist perspectives have especially contributed to a broader approach to social mobility, in which also contextual factors, constraints (like gender norms and discrimination) and alternative forms of mobility are incorporated. Higginbotham and Weber (1992), for example, researched the subjective experience of social mobility of black and white women in the US. They found that black women in their study saw their social mobility in terms of the uplifting of their family or even ‘race-uplifting’. The white women in the study never defined social mobility as much in relation to their family or racial group. They appeared to have a more individual definition, in which marital mobility was an especially important option. Roughly three elements characterize most alternative approaches (as opposed to the ‘survey paradigm’) to social mobility: (1) a focus on the context of ‘moving up’, instead of conceptualizing social mobility only on the individual level; (2) a focus on the subjective definitions of mobility, thus making room for other definitions than those used in conventional research; and (3) a focus on the subjective experiences of and barriers to mobility. A very powerful example of a study that shows the advantages of a qualitative approach to social mobility is Denise Segura’s (1989) study on the impact of class, race and gender on the lives of Chicana and Mexican immigrant women. Segura distinguishes objective from subjective dimensions of social mobility. Some forms of mobility were defined by the women in her study as ‘upward’, while in the dominant view and objective definition of social mobility, these occupational attainments were actually ‘downward’, if one would have interpreted them in an ‘objective model’. This difference between the subjective experience and the objective attainment existed partly because of meaning given to certain kinds of jobs and economic sectors in the reference groups and communities of these women. For instance, a woman who took a job in a dental office experienced this as upward mobility because of the status attached to working in a medical-related sphere in her community (Segura, 1989: 49).

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Segura thus researched subjective definitions of social mobility. However, she also focuses on occupational and (formally recognized) educational mobility, as do most researchers. Notwithstanding their contributions to broadening the scope of mobility research, they thus have in common with the ‘survey paradigm’ the focus on educational degrees and occupational status. This present research on the subjective definitions and expectations of social mobility of Moroccan migrant women takes the subjective, alternative approach to social mobility one step further because also definitions and expectations outside the realms of formal education and occupational attainment are taken into account. This approach leaves more room for the idea that despite social mobility being a family or collective ambition in a migration context (and as an effect focusing only on intergenerational social mobility), first-generation migrant women do have strategies to ‘move up’ themselves.

Moroccan migrant women and mobility In the following sections, I build upon the aforementioned studies as examples of alternative approaches to social mobility. Therefore, the empirical section is divided into three parts: the first part is about what constraints the women identify to experience further social mobility for themselves. The second part is about the subjective, alternative definitions of social mobility and the third part goes on to analyse the expectations of social mobility that these women have for themselves and their children in order to be able to shed light on how the definitions of mobility are grounded by the respondents in the context of their everyday lives and experienced barriers.

Constraints to mobility in the dominant definition The women in my study did not experience much social mobility when defined as accomplishments on the job market or in attaining formal educational levels. This matches the outcomes of the dominant social mobility research on migrants in the Netherlands, as mentioned earlier. What explanations do the women have for this lack of mobility in the dominant definition? The constraints that are experienced by the women in this research can roughly be divided into ‘structural constraints’ and ‘cultural barriers’. First, the women lacked several forms of capital that are important to ‘move up’ the social ladder. They had limited social, cultural and economical capital (see Bourdieu, 1989). The women knew few people in ‘better’ social positions than they that could help them. The kind of social bonds that can have a ‘leverage effect’ (Briggs, 1998; Dominguez and Watkins, 2003) are scarce for these poor Moroccan women. The homogeneity in their networks (in terms of gender, class and ethnicity) hinders their chance to get ahead. Moreover, to participate in educational institutions, to apply for a job and to accumulate social capital, economic resources are necessary. Selma’s story illustrates this logic: During the pregnancy I went to school. I received a year of free education from the municipality. . . . Then I stopped – I was with my child when she was little – and then I went to school for two more years. I wanted to go to school five days a week. I didn’t have to do that because of the

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government, you know. I did it for me. But I did have to leave my daughter in childcare. I had to pay for the childcare myself and that is so expensive! I had to pay them 350 euros a month from my husband’s money and even that was a subsidized spot. But I did get ahead in school. When I got to level 3, this gets you to get a different education, you know, to learn a profession. But this was 70 percent internship and 30 percent school and the internship was not paid. My husband and I could not afford that for another year. I did ask for paid employment, but there was none. Then I quit and went home to raise my children.5

The example of Selma shows how she had certain ambitions and aspirations, but that her limited financial resources made it impossible for her to pursue them. Second, the economic structure of the city is also hindering the women’s participation on the labour market. The women in this study do not have the necessary skills to acquire a paid job in the Dutch labour market because of its closed nature and lack of low skill jobs. The women I spoke with who wanted to work in order to increase their income, all reported that when they applied for jobs at for instance the employment agency, they could only get very low paid and dead end jobs in cleaning agencies. Rachma commented: I don’t want to clean! I have cleaned day in day out my whole life, I have done nothing else. I am not going to clean for such little money . . .

Third, most women spoke of institutional constraints, in the form of insufficient availability of affordable childcare. The costs of formal childcare are far too high for the women in this study and having children is, in part because of this, seen by the women in my study as a fundamental barrier to pursuing other possible dreams. A 29-year-old woman, for example, told me about her aspirations as she came to the Netherlands and how her children limit her possibilities of going to school or work: When I first came here, I wanted to study, go to school. But now, I have children. Now it’s too late. At first, yeah, maybe. I hoped so when I was still in Morocco. But once I got here . . .

Another case in point is the story of Selma, whom we have already met above: I gave birth to my first child very quickly. I was in the Netherlands for only three months when I became pregnant. Stupid huh? How stupid I was then! I thought: I want to have children. I want to have children now! I didn’t know anything then. I went with my husband to the doctor. The doctor said: ‘Why do you want to have children so quickly? You’re so young, you should go to school first and work and get used to this country! Don’t have children right away!’ The doctor gave me a prescription for birth control pills. I picked the pills up at the drug store. Really. I did. But it was too late already. I went to the doctor again and she did some test. . . . Then I thought: well, this is for the best anyway. But now I think it’s stupid, yeah. I would have preferred to go to school, you know. Not only to learn the language, but to learn a profession, you know, really find a job and get paid for it.

In the second category of obstacles, cultural constraints, specific gender norms come to the fore. The way in which the spouses and families of the women expect them to be a mother and a wife is an important barrier to getting ahead. The women I interviewed believe that their husbands think that women of their generation can maybe go to school,

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learn to speak the language, but should not eventually have a paid job. These ideas are reflected in the following quotes from one of the group interviews in which the women responded to each other: Fatima: To be honest, my husband won’t let me do much. He says: I am your husband, I am responsible for you, and you’re not going to work. Every time I bring the issue of work up, he says: no, no, no, no: you’re not going out of the house to work! Naima: My husband says: What is it you want more? You can’t do anything here. You can do nothing! Fatima: Yeah, my husband says the same thing. And also: What is it you miss? You have everything you want, don’t you? You have a good life? The barriers in gender notions are internalized by many of the women and thus influence the assessment of their own possibilities. Not only do the women note that their husbands do not want them to attain a job, they also comply and agree that working in a more public sphere than the home is not for them.

Alternative definitions The women in this study subscribed to the dominant definition of social mobility in the case of their children or other people. They viewed, in accordance with the dominant definition, finding ‘better work’ or ‘getting more diplomas’ as important forms of ‘getting ahead’. I go into this phenomenon of imagining social mobility for the next generation later. First, in this section, I identify the different, alternative definitions of ‘getting ahead’ that the women I interviewed had for themselves. Three categories come to the fore in an analysis of the narratives: the women experienced (1) housing careers, (2) informal education, and then became much more (3) self-reliant, thereby breaking through gender norms and gaining social status. Almost all women in this research experienced a housing career (see, for instance, Bolt and Van Kempen, 2002 for an elaboration on the complex Dutch institutional context of public housing). Apart from the fact that most of these women were born in small villages in Morocco and their living conditions have improved quite dramatically by migrating, many women told me about their first house in the Netherlands and how they moved through different houses to get to better apartments. These women experienced a large improvement of their living conditions, for example in the biography of Nazerra: The first house I lived in here in the Netherlands was no good; really, it was really, really bad. I lived with my husband and parents during the first year. I was five months pregnant when I came here, because I was married to my husband in Morocco already. When our first child was born, I moved four months after that to our own home, with just my child and husband. But this house was no good either. It was large enough – that was not the problem – but it was cold there. There was no central heating, the windows were broken and there was only an old-fashioned heater. The water was cold there as well. My children would come out of the shower all blue from the cold. The second house was not from public housing, but private. It was not very good for us. We lived there for nine years.

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After that, we were on the waiting list [of a public housing agency] long enough and we could move to the house that we live in now. This is a very good house. We have central heating, enough rooms and it’s on the ground floor, so we even have a small garden. So now, finally, we have a good home.

Of course, a housing career is in part an effect of social mobility in terms of income. But because of the large percentage of public housing in Rotterdam, a better house is not always just an effect of a better income. Indeed, in the case of Nazerra, this was the case. In fact, by registering with a public housing corporation, Nazerra had managed to obtain this house. The women had the chance to strategically respond to vacancies. As 50 percent of the houses in Rotterdam are public housing,6 and the quality of these houses is relatively good, registering with a corporation significantly increases the chances of finding a high quality home. Women thereby enlarged their chances of moving to a better house that was not necessarily more expensive. In fact, the housing mobility of these women was in large part an effect of their ‘learning the ropes’ (Portes and Rumbaut, 2006) in their new country, of manoeuvring strategically and educating themselves to do so. A housing career can thus be seen as a form of economic capital that is acquired through the mobilization of specific cultural capital: strategic knowledge of the bureaucratic system of public housing A second way of ‘moving up’ that can be distinguished in the narratives of the women is the way in which they educate themselves. Most first-generation migrant women do not obtain official educational degrees in the Netherlands (or Morocco) and often do not participate in formal educational services in the Netherlands. Many women migrated from rural Morocco not having gone to school for more than a couple of years. Some even are illiterate. Because of their years (sometimes decades) of participation in publicly funded language courses, they learn the Dutch language, in addition to learning how to read and write. Also important is the ambition many women expressed to me to learn how to drive and acquire their driver’s licence. These informal educational advancements can be seen as important acquisitions of cultural capital, although not formally recognized in research and by educational institutions. Women often indicate a form of ‘personal growth’ because of these informal educational trajectories, no matter whether or not a diploma was the outcome. Souad: When I just came here [the Netherlands], I was afraid to do anything. But now . . . I went to the museum, you know? The other day. I go to the city centre all the time with my friend and I learned to speak Dutch.

Souad indicated that the different trajectories of informal education helped her to do the things quoted here. These visits to the city centre and the museum further expanded her knowledge and satisfied her curiosity. The personal growth indicated by the women is sometimes defined in terms of them being better able to be there for their children, but many women experience education as a process of individual personal growth: just for them. Sahila wanted me to know that she was learning Dutch not because the politicians or Dutch people wanted and forced her to, but for her own development:

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School is so much fun now. I learn Dutch for me. I want to learn Dutch only for myself. I don’t learn this language for the Dutch people. I learn it because I need it for myself. Not because of anything else.

The small steps taken by women in the eyes of the host society are large steps in the their own eyes and experience. They are small steps in the eyes of the Dutch government and the administration of Rotterdam, because they have set quite high goals to ‘emancipate’ or ‘alleviate’ the women and define their success in terms of the dominant research that is reviewed earlier. But in the eyes of the women, these experiences can be major personal revolutions, as they often were not used to participating in this form of public life and experiencing such intellectual development. Also important in this context is the way in which many of the women in this study educated themselves to be able to read Arabic to eventually be able to study the Quran. Many of the women do not speak Arabic and are not able to read the classical Arabic of the Quran. But learning the language is seen by the women and their surroundings as an important way of developing intellectually and religiously. Women that learn to read the Quran gain a higher social status because of the high value that is attached in many Moroccan communities in the Netherlands to religious education. Knowledge of classical Arabic and the Quran is, in that way, an important form of symbolic capital (see Bourdieu, 1989). The acquirement of status, development and self-education can be seen in this context as an alternative form of ‘getting ahead’, even when no formal diplomas are attached to these achievements, because they are aspects of class in the broader definition and are interpreted as symbolic capital in the women’s networks. The third alternative definition of social mobility is increased self-reliance, sense of autonomy and emancipation. The women often came to the Netherlands with very limited knowledge about Dutch society or how to get around the city of Rotterdam. Because of their (perceived) lack of skills, many stayed home and only learned about Dutch society through others, whom were mostly members of their immediate kin network. For some women, this is still the case, but many more now know their own way to public services, stores and other people. Rachma explains why it is important for her to achieve this kind of mobility in the future: I want to understand more, to be able to explain more. Now my family has to come with me everywhere I go. I want to be able to go by myself. You know, to the municipality or any offices. It is hard, you know? They talk in a cold way, with difficult words. I don’t understand what they are saying. I often have problems, but I cannot explain them to these people.

The language courses have an important function in this respect. The shame that many women feel when they fail to express themselves in Dutch is lessened in the language courses. The autonomy of the women is thereby enlarged. Of course, this does not immediately enhance the chances of work or professional education, but it is an important form of ‘getting ahead’ in the sense that the enhanced emancipated attitude of the women improves their chances of arranging their lives the way they want to, including education and paid labour and thereby bypassing some of the gender-related barriers described in the earlier section. In a social context full of gendered barriers, being able to break through the restrictions on movement and the kind of activities that the women are

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allowed to participate in is an important form of social mobility, because it is a kind of cultural capital and symbolic capital. Furthermore, through being able to leave the house and house duties more often, women get the chance to expand their social capital as well: When I first came here, I knew nothing! I was ignorant, really. But now . . . I go to the doctor, I talk to the neighbours, and I even go shopping by myself. It is much better this way.

Notwithstanding these three alternative definitions of social mobility, most Moroccan migrant women I encountered did not expect much more mobility in their own futures in the dominant definition. In other words, they grounded their expectations in the social context, not expecting to ever work (in a paid job) or obtain an educational degree. An important finding of this research is, though, that they do expect their children to attain a better education and occupational status. The dominant definitions are thus subscribed to by the women, but only for their children. The first-generation poor Moroccan women in this study almost without exception said that their children need to do well in the Netherlands and that ‘doing well’ means attaining educational degrees. For themselves, alternative definitions and expectations are constructed within a complex social context. These alternative definitions can be seen as important additions to the dominant conceptualization of social mobility and a broadening of the research horizon.

Expectations of moving up Women’s expectations for themselves. Early on in the research, it became clear that besides all the aforementioned barriers and obstacles, arguably the most important reason why Moroccan first-generation poor women seldom attain better positions in the dominant definition is that they do not have the expectation of social mobility. Building on the research of O’Connor (2000), expectations of social mobility are here defined as contextually grounded attitudes towards ‘moving up’ (see also Mickelson, 1990). This means that while individuals may allude to certain ideals of social upgrading, they may nevertheless feel that such upgrading is not attainable for them, for instance (as in this case) because they define themselves primarily as mothers. People tend to adapt their ideas about the future to the expected possibilities and their structural position (Mickelson, 1990). The women in this study very much subscribed to dominant ideals of social upgrading, in the case of their children. But for themselves, they have different expectations and definitions. Most women I interviewed or talked to during the months of my research never thought about their future in terms of work or education. Interviewer: When you were little, did you dream about what you were going to be when you grew up? Rachma: I never thought about work. Hasna: I only thought of myself as being at home, as a housewife. To just clean, and care. I never thought of myself as working. Aisha: Me too. I never went to school. There is no good work without school, right? That’s why I stayed home.

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The above citations from one of the group interviews characterize my experience with this group of women. The women had puzzled faces when I asked them what they had wanted to become when they were little and what they wanted for their future now. Some of the women I met did dream of a future of work, but the majority did not. The precarious socioeconomic position of the women in this study is in this respect very relevant. The women grounded their expectations in the social context, structural inequality and the closed nature of the Dutch educational system and labour market. In addition, they adapted to the context in which they grew up in Morocco, in which very unequal opportunities were offered to boys and girls. Instead of expecting school or work, these women dreamed about a nice husband and healthy, good children, because this was a more realistic expectation in their home country. In the cultural context of rural Morocco decades ago, desires and expectations for the future for girls were almost exclusively located in the realm of marriage and family (Pels, 2000). A typical example of the way in which many of the women were brought up to believe that education and paid labour was not for them is the story of Rachma: Rachma: My brother is a teacher and my other brother is a chief at the police department in Morocco. My little sister is a French teacher. My brothers and one of my sisters went to school when they were little. Interviewer: Why didn’t you go to school? Rachma: Because, I don’t know. I just helped my mother at home, you know? Cleaning and cooking and that kind of jobs. I used to ask my father though: Why can’t I go to school daddy? But you know, he wouldn’t allow me. It just didn’t turn out that way. Even now, while they have lived in the Netherlands for years and sometimes decades, many of the women do not see work or professional educational trajectories in their own futures. The answer to my question about this subject, even though many of the respondents were quite young (25–45 years of age), would often be: No! We cannot do that [paid labour] anymore, we are too old for that!

The matter of age is very symbolic in the discourses of the women. They often said that women of their age and with children should not think of a future in terms of work and school anymore. A young woman with small children explained her doubts in thinking about going to school because of her age, lack of experience and formal degrees: Interviewer: Do you want to go to another school after this school? Hasna: Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe I would like to. But I’m 34 years old, you know? I am not young anymore. And I don’t have diplomas. You need diploma’s here [in the Netherlands]. Expectations for the next generation. The ideas of the women in this study on social mobility are grounded in the everyday context of motherhood, gender notions and structural constraints. But the expectations for the children are numerous. Khadija, for example, explained:

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I have enough work at home. I cannot go anywhere anymore to work for money. But my daughters work for money and have children as well. My daughters did go to school. They work and care for their children. They do it.

Sons and daughters are very strongly encouraged to get on in life by the mothers participating in this study. The women complained about the children who did not want to learn and explained passionately how important they think that diplomas are: My son is very smart, really. He is the smartest of my three children, but he does not want to learn. I think that is such, such a shame! If you are ignorant or dumb: ok, I don’t care. But in case you’re smart! That’s awful! He doesn’t listen to me. I don’t agree with what he is doing now, but what can I do?

The Dutch anthropologist Marjo Buitelaar (2005, 2007) argues that in Moroccan communities a few decades ago, education was much less valued, especially for girls: ‘the “huishoudschool” (same sex schools of home economics) offered in the eyes of many parents a way in which the value of their daughters in the marital market could be enhanced’ (Buitelaar, 2005: 138, my translation). Buitelaar contends that since then the expectations that parents have of their daughters have changed quite dramatically, as many parents are now urging their daughters to earn ‘the highest degree possible’ (Buitelaar, 2007). The school of home economics was, however, also a pathway to social mobility in the eyes of parents then. Marrying well has long been a primary route of class upgrading for women (migrant or not) and still often is (cf. Higginbotham and Weber, 1992). For these women, coming from the Moroccan rural areas where education for girls was scarce and women were expected to aspire to become a mother and stay at home in the small village, this aspiration of marriage for their daughters at the time was in line with the desires that their mothers had had for them and were normal in the context in which they grew up (Pels, 2000). The difference between two or three decades ago and now is not so much that parents have expectations of social mobility for their daughters per se, but that they now define social mobility for girls within the dominant frame of work and education. This can (at least in part) explain the solid intergenerational social mobility of Moroccan second-generation women in the Netherlands. The mothers in this research argue the importance of an education and paid labour for their daughters almost without exception. The way in which a good future or ‘getting ahead’ is defined in relation to education is striking. The women are very much convinced that in the Dutch context, the future of their children depends on getting a degree. The explanation for this strong conviction lies (besides of course the fact that this is a form of assimilation to Dutch or western ideals) in the situation and living conditions in which the mothers find themselves. Their class position and limited space because of gender norms is precisely what they do not want for their children. Naima, a woman who married young, gave birth to many children and was not allowed to go to school by her husband, said in this context very passionately: My daughter has to study! She is not allowed to get married young, if you ask me. I do not want her to have the same life as me.

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Some of the women turned to me, and advised me not to get married too soon and to keep working after having children: It is better for you too if you work. Working is good, for women too. Otherwise you grow old quickly, just like us.

An important question in the interviews was a question about the future. I asked the women what they expected in their lives and what they wished for five years into the future. Many women talked about the future they aspired to for their children first, only to talk about their own after persuasion. The ambition and, more importantly, expectation of social mobility of the women for themselves lie in studying the Dutch language. The women ground this immediately in the context of motherhood and caring duties. Naima says: In five years I hope my son is a professional football player. I hope my daughters study, too. I want to study more Dutch, but I only want to go to school when it is close to my home. Because my children are close then and I have to make dinner and lunch for them and take care of them. I cannot go far to go to school.

Some of the women, though, had slightly higher ambitions and were negotiating ways in which to make them come true. But still they ground their ambitions in their social context. A case in point here is the answer of Hind to the five-years hence question: In five years, I will have gotten further in school. I would like to work. You know, with a real job, not only volunteering. I would like a real job in the school that I am volunteering in now. But I don’t think my husband will agree to me being a real teacher or something. But going to school is fine by him. I think my daughters will keep working. I hope they do, even when they have more children. I hope they do. I want them to.

This quote also shows the way in which the dream for the future is grounded in the context of family and gender notions in Hind’s social network. Adding to the expectation for her own life, Hind is quick to add the expectations she has for her daughters and how they are grounded in a different context. Social mobility in the dominant definition for the women I interviewed is a family undertaking: they have high hopes for their children. In this sense, the women define social mobility as a family objective and process. But that does not mean that they have no expectations of social mobility for their individual selves. They do, but in the alternative definitions analysed here: informal education, housing mobility and the social status that comes with being more autonomous.

Conclusion The two research questions that are guiding this article are (1) How do Moroccan firstgeneration migrant women define and experience ‘moving up’? (2) What do these definitions of mobility and narratives of ‘moving up’ of Moroccan migrant women themselves add to dominant definitions in mainstream research?

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When reviewing dominant literature on the social mobility of first-generation Moroccan women in the Netherlands, it seems that they, after migrating to the Netherlands, do not walk any ‘pathways to social class’ (Bertaux and Thompson, 1997). However, the narratives of the women in this research of their walks to a better position paint a different picture. While participating in language courses and talking to first-generation Moroccan women, I discovered the nuanced ways in which the women themselves talk about ‘getting ahead’ and ‘moving up’. The way in which they negotiate their aspirations and ground them in the context of their everyday lives became the focus of my research because precisely these nuances were lacking from many dominant studies. For the women in this study, paid labour beyond dead end jobs is often not a realistic possibility. A formal education in the Dutch educational system also seems unattainable in the light of their lack of basic education and other obstacles. However, they do want, and expect themselves, to learn Dutch, get a driver’s licence, educate themselves, move to better houses and become more autonomous. The women thus have alternative definitions of ‘moving up’ for themselves. Class upgrading in terms of formal schooling and job status does not seem attainable for and to them. They were brought up to aspire to becoming a good mother and wife in rural Morocco. Also, for many, migrating was a strategy of social mobility in itself. The women ground their present expectations of mobility in their migration history, but also in the structural constraints that characterize the context they are in. However, the women apply the alternative definitions of social mobility only to their situation, as they push their sons and daughters to attain high degrees in the Dutch education system and to aspire a career. First-generation Moroccan women thus subscribe to dominant definitions of social mobility when it comes to their children, which in part explains why intergenerational social mobility for Moroccan immigrants in the Netherlands is very strong and fears of downward assimilation of the Moroccan second generation are not founded. Social mobility for Moroccan immigrants in the Netherlands was not only the objective of migrating for work in the first place, but is also a family project in which the children are pushed to make the dreams of their parents come true. The additions of the women to existing conceptualizations of social mobility point to the rather narrow way in which social class is often conceptualized. The alternative definitions in their narratives can all be summarized under the heading of class in the definition of Bourdieu (1989). Whether it is the higher status gained by learning Arabic and reading the Quran (cultural and symbolic capital), the ability to speak Dutch and develop oneself intellectually (cultural capital and symbolic capital in breaking through gender barriers) or better housing conditions (economic, cultural and symbolic capital): all are elements of social class. Acknowledgements The author would like to thank Godfried Engbersen, Bram Peper, Willem Schinkel and Annelou Ypeij for their comments on earlier versions of this article.

Funding This research was funded by Stip (Stedelijke Innovatie Programma, NWO).

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Notes 1. This situation has changed due to new legislation limiting marital migration from Morocco and other countries to the Netherlands. However, most of the women in this study migrated to the Netherlands prior to those changes. 2. The total Dutch population was 16.5 million in 2009 (Centraal Bureau voor de Statistiek; at: www.cbs.nl). 3. The term ‘indigenous’ is often used in migration/integration research to refer to people who have lived in the country/area for several generations. The indigenous Dutch in Rotterdam are often descendants of domestic migrants that migrated to the city in the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century. 4. At: www.cos.rotterdam.nl (Statistics Bureau, Rotterdam). 5. All interviews were conducted in Dutch, these quotes are translated into English by the author of this article. 6. At: www.cos.rotterdam.nl

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Biographical note Marguerite van den Berg is a PhD student in urban sociology at the University of Amsterdam.

Résumé La mobilité sociale est le plus fréquemment mesurée en termes de prestige professionnel ou de niveau d’études. Quelques recherches qualitatives adoptent des approches alternatives de la mobilité sociale, mais celles-ci continuent de penser la mobilité sociale essentiellement en fonction des

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statuts professionnels ou des qualifications formelles. L’analyse des récits de femmes marocaines installées aux Pays-Bas nous permet de dégager quelques définitions alternatives de la mobilité sociale, qui contribuent à l’élaboration d’une définition élargie des appartenances de classe et de la « revalorisation sociale », au-delà des qualifications formelles et du travail rémunéré. Il est frappant de constater la manière dont ces femmes adhèrent aux définitions dominantes de la mobilité quand il s’agit d’envisager l’avenir de leurs enfants, mais adoptent des définitions alternatives, adaptées à leur contexte social, quand il s’agit de penser leur propre situation. Mots clés: Mobilité sociale, genre, migration, représentations subjectives

Resumen La movilidad social se mide habitualmente en términos de prestigio ocupacional o logro educativo aunque pueden encontrarse enfoques alternativos en la investigación cualitativa principalmente. Sin embargo, a menudo estos enfoques también conceptualizan la movilidad social como logro de estatus ocupacional o niveles educativos. Interpretando las narrativas de mujeres inmigrantes marroquíes en Holanda, se distinguen definiciones alternativas de movilidad social que van más allá de la escolarización formal o el trabajo remunerado, las cuales contribuyen a una definición más amplia de clase y “ascenso social”. Es especialmente llamativa la forma en la que las mujeres suscriben las definiciones dominantes de movilidad social, al tiempo que tienen definiciones alternativas para ellas mismas, las cuales están enraizadas en su contexto social. Palabras clave: Género, migración, movilidad social, definiciones subjetivas