Question for my Readers

Hello Friendly Readers!

For my thesis project, I'm analyzing mothering memoirs, looking for a themes in empowerment, guilt, identity, and desire. I'm sure more things will crop up, you never know.

My question for you: Are there any memoirs on mothering that you think I should be including, or that you found particularly helpful or moving? I'm trying to find a full spectrum, so memoirs by both feminist (or feminist-aligned) and non-feminist mothers.

I think I have a pretty good list, but I'm always looking for input. Let me know if you have any thoughts!

Writing, Writing, and More Writing

While I'm not technically enrolled in classes right now, I've been loosely working on my thesis for over a year. And by loosely working, I mean that I was very occasionally reading and taking notes until I changed my topic over the summer. Then I was working about once or twice a week here and there, until I finally kicked into high gear in November. Not a coincidence that this is when we were able to get a babysitter to hang with Felicity a few mornings a week, and I got more serious about carving out specific times when I get to leave the house and work.

I've been focusing my attention on an independent study that I never completed before we moved to New York. My professor was very gracious about the whole thing (I was pregnant and working and sick, so she just said to finish it whenever). I had a draft done in early January, waited over a month for the professor to look at it, and then basically rewrote almost all of it in the last 10 days. It's 28 pages long. I'm immensely proud of myself. I'm not going to claim it's the most polished thing I've produced, but it's a good solid paper with original theory.

And, the really great part is, after I get this thing in tomorrow (I have four hours of childcare in the
morning so I can put my finishing touches on it and get my annotated bibliography done), I get to focus on my thesis.

The background research is already done and I'm going to challenge myself to write for one hour every day, even on the days few days a week where I there isn't carved out time for me to work.

What is my thesis about, you ask?

Empowerment in mothering. I'm reading through mothering memoirs and looking at themes of empowerment, guilt, desire, and identity. After just writing almost thirty pages about empowerment and guilt in the second and third waves of feminism, I've feel like I have a running start. I originally was going to conduct a qualitative studies about feeding decisions of new mothers (in relation to guilt), but given that a) I want to finish my degree this summer at the latest, and b) once I am finished with my degree I can either start writing for money or find a job, a lady has to do what a lady has to do.

And, if current trends continue, I'll have a thesis that is 120 pages long instead of 80 pages. And my adviser will kill me. 

Felicity's First Boyfriend

Names have been changed for privacy.

"...And Felicity's boyfriend will be here tomorrow night for dinner," my mom said with a smile as she folded a towel. I paused what I was doing and looked at her.

I was visiting my family for two weeks over Christmas, and my mom had invited her close friend Georgia, along with her husband and one-year-old son, Julian, over for dinner on New Year's Eve.

I was really excited to see Georgia; she's been a sort of surrogate big-sister/mentor for me since my teen years. I cried when she miscarried her first pregnancy, and was thrilled to find out she was expecting again, a few days after I found out I was pregnant with Felicity. Julian is about three months older than my small offspring, and, apparently, is Felicity's intended.

"Mom," I said softly, "Julian isn't Felicity's boyfriend." I paused. "Felicity can only have a boyfriend if she can consent to have a boyfriend, and she hasn't yet, she's much too little to make a choice like that."

We turned back to the still-warm towels and continued folding, moving on to conversation about what we would serve for dinner, and my plans to bake that evening.

The next afternoon, while Felicity took her afternoon nap, my older sister and I sorted through a large tub of pink baby clothes passed down by one of my aunts. My mom was straightening the kitchen and living room, a seemingly endless task with two toddler grandchildren hell-bent on spreading duplos and board-back books to every possible corner. She stopped by the table to check our progress with the clothes.

"Felicity's boyfriend will be here in about an hour," she said, encouraging us to finish our project and clean up the aftermath as swiftly as possible before the company arrived.

"Mom!" I snapped, more harshly than I intended, "Julian is not Felicity's boyfriend!" I furiously picked up a pink sweater and folded it quickly, messily. "She isn't old enough to speak for herself. She isn't old enough to choose to date someone and to say if she'll even like boys. She may decide she wants to date girls!"

I couldn't look up to meet my mother's eyes. My sweet and loving Christian mother holds very different views on sexuality and morality and I'm sure I offended her on many levels. I felt bad that I reacted so hotly and that I had most likely caused pain, but I also didn't regret my words.

"But in as much as Julian is a boy, and in as much as he is her baby friend, then yes, he is Felicity's boy friend, a friend that is a boy," I conceded.

"Yes," she said quietly, "That's what I mean."

I know she meant well, but I also know it isn't what she meant. I know because it's what I grew up in, the endless matching of this person to that person, always female and male. It's odd that I basically wasn't allowed to date at all throughout high school (yet did, on the sly, once or twice), but I was often verbally paired with someone from church that met with my parents' approval.

This is part of the problem though, isn't it? It seems so innocent and sweet, to tease about babies dating, or even to tease your teenage daughter about which boy in her youth group is cute (although only boys who get good grades, are "serious about the Lord," and intend to go to very good Christian colleges are presented as options). And haven't I been tempted to do the same thing with some of the New York mamas with some seriously sweet and adorable baby boys?

But I abstain, because what I said to my mom is absolutely true: I don't know if Felicity will be interested in men or women when she grows up. I don't know if she'll decide she wants to identify as a female. For all I know, she may resent the fact that she has such a feminine name and go by Brian instead (her middle name, which I'm suddenly convinced we wrote out as 'Brain' on her birth certificate), and decide to have her breasts removed. I do know that whoever and whatever she chooses to identify as, I want to support her completely. I never want her to feel any shame about who she is, what she feels, or what she wants. I don't want to assume anything about her that will cause her harm, or the harm of others.

And that's really what this is about. Statistically, my daughter will choose to identify as a female and will be attracted to men. But by assuming that this is the case and joking about it, we reinforce that heterosexuality is expected, that it is what is normal and right. This belief is why homosexual and queer kids are bullied in school, why adults find it difficult to find work if they dress or act outside of the binary of male/masculine and female/feminine, why our country is having such a difficult time accepting the possibility of gay marriage.

For now my daughter's bangs are swept to the side with a little bow as they grow out, but she also listens to stories about how a baby bird has two mommy birds, or two daddy birds, and all of the dinosaurs in her books are strong, decisive lady dinosaurs.

This is feminist parenting

I wrote the following in the middle of a three-hour flight from Washington D.C. to Minneapolis on Thursday, December 20th. I would like to report that Felicity was a complete angel for Ian their entire time together.

This morning, I stepped onto a plane, waving goodbye to my husband, who had our 12-month baby strapped to his chest. This was to be the longest separation yet between myself and the baby, a whole seven hours and a half hours. I felt guiltily liberated. 

Our small family is going to Minnesota for the holidays. My husband has a conference in Atlanta immediately after Christmas, and I’m staying a week longer with my family before joining him back in New York City. We scheduled our flights separately, finding that the best price for my round-trip was to fly an hour to Washington D.C., enjoy a two and a half hour layover, and then sit on a three hour flight to Minneapolis. I booked my ticket with a lap infant, planning to have Felicity fly with me.

Ian, on the other hand, was able to purchase all direct flights. So despite lifting off thirty minutes before he would, I would arrive three and half hours later.

Two mornings ago, talking about our trip and upcoming flights as we prepared for the day, we realized how crazy it was for me to have two flights with the baby and an overall longer time waiting in airports and in the air. Ian suggested taking her. I readily agreed, knowing that I would have her on my lonesome on the journey from Minneapolis to New York City after the New Year. I recalled flying alone with her when she was a sleepy three months old and how challenging that seemed at the time. I felt happy to share the burden of parenting with my spouse.

Last night, thinking about the logistics, I started to panic. The maximum Ian and the baby have spent alone (without me easily accessible) is about four and half hours. It isn’t that he is never home or isn’t a good caretaker; he does much of the parenting when he is home, sharing in the diaper changes, feedings, baths, is in charge of bedtime, and is a really excellent and involved father. It is more the case that I am still breastfeeding. So even if I have appointments, am working, or am ill, I pop in every two to three hours, check on everyone, see if the baby needs to nurse, and generally offer an over-abundance of unnecessary ‘advice’ to my husband about baby-related things he already accomplishes with finesse.

I am in the process of weaning the baby down to one or two nursing sessions a day, and so was not so worried about an extended amount of time without breastfeeding her. Instead, I had a serious case of the maternal “what ifs”: what if her ears bother her on the flight and she screams for hours, and I’m not there to comfort her? What if she desperately decides she must nurse, adamantly giving my husband her nursing sign, refusing the soy milk, peanut butter, and fruit packets we carefully tucked into her diaper bag, and then refuses to be comforted? (This is her latest – and quite effective – tactic to get middle of the night feedings). 

As I write this, I realize our division of labor is good. This is feminist parenting. To say, I desperately would love some time to myself and would like to enjoy (as much as one can enjoy) my day in airports and in the air in solitude, with my book and my writing and my research project. To say, it makes more logistical sense for the baby to be in airports and in planes for less time, and to only have one descent, which can be so painful for little ears. To you, now that we are down to fewer nursing sessions, there is no reason why my very capable and nurturing husband can’t be the sole caretaker for the great challenge of taking a very active, newly willful, almost-toddler across the country. To say that he can handle it, no matter what the day brings. To say that even if she does get upset and cries for their entire three hour flight, it will not permanently damage her and she will be fine, and he will be fine as well. 

They were supposed to be landing about the same time my last flight was taking off. I kept my phone on as long as possible, holding it nervously in my hand, desperately wanting to know how everything went. Alas, I had to turn it off before he texted to say that they’d landed. 

Although it has been nice to be able to think about other things besides the baby, to read and not be juggling a baby on my lap, and work on editing my current research project instead of singing endless renditions of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, the desire to know what is happening is overwhelming. I am accustomed to being in control (or at least feeling that I am in control). 

I find myself counting down the minutes until I see them: ninety minutes left in the air, another thirty or so until I can hug the baby, kiss my husband, and know that being a mother doesn’t always equate to sacrificing what I need and want.

The Baby is One

Two days ago, Felicity turned one. I loved it, I hated it.

I adore birthdays. I will even try to celebrate your half-birthday, if you let me (with a half of a cake, naturally!). I want Flick's birthdays to be special, full of tradition, and memorable, even if she isn't the one keeping the memories at first.

I made lots of trial cupcakes, and settled on two recipes for her party. I took time thoughtfully selecting gifts that her little baby self would love, bought a bouquet of flowers for her (mixed in variety and color, because I don't know her favorite flower or color(s) yet), and found a very sweet card for her. She even got a balloon, though she's not really into balloons yet, we found out. My mom and I made a birthday banner for her during Hurricane Sandy, which Ian and I hung with great care, using a ruler and everything.

We went out for breakfast on her birthday. I took a picture and avoided crying. Then Ian left for an all-day conference an hour and half out of the city, and Felicity's babysitter came and took her for five hours so I could clean the house for her party the next day.

I tried really hard not to feel guilty about this (like I try really hard not to feel guilty about so many things): Ian had had a crazy week at work and did not have time to contribute to the housework during that week, I have been prioritizing my own research and writing (yay), and the party was scheduled for the next day, and the apartment needed a little TLC. Plus I had to buy groceries and start cooking. Also, Felicity is too young to understand the concept of a birthday, and what the day is.

I was able to accomplish an amazing lot in the five hours, and Felicity loves E., her sitter. Afterwards, I took her on a long walk, and ate bits of dried fruit and animal crackers with her at the cafe in Whole Foods. She napped in her stroller, and we did an extra-long story time before bed, with lots of cuddles and kisses. She fell into a really good, deep sleep. The sleep of a baby that has been active, laughing, reading, and interacting with someone else almost the whole day, the restful sleep of a baby that has a relaxed mother, a happy mother.

I am increasingly aware of my need to be accepted and to live up to the expectations I perceive others have for me. This whole birthday experience further highlighted this. Maybe it's because birthdays were treated a certain way in our household, with a certain sort of reverence and tradition, and that is what I want to pass on. Maybe it is because I feel the "perfect mother" would have had the house clean in the first place and would be able to handle getting ready for a party while taking care of and pleasing a baby, and that this wouldn't upset her child and exhaust her beyond her limits. I'm not sure who this perfect mother is, but she sure isn't me.

So I didn't let myself feel guilty. At the end of the day, the baby was happy, and I was happy, and she had a really lovely party yesterday afternoon.

I do believe I achieved some sort of balance. A feat, ladies and gentlemen, a feat!

Now I just have to come to grips with my baby not really being a baby anymore. 

Maternal Thinking vs. Maternal Instinct

I read through Motherhood and Feminism by Amber E. Kinser two weeks ago. I was reviewing my notes this afternoon and came across this quote, which I absolutely love:

Understanding women’s mothering knowledge to be grounded in ‘maternal thinking’ rather than maternal instinct positions us to consider the concentrated effort that women put into mothering, rather than to assume that it comes to them as quickly and effortlessly as, say, as instinctive ‘fight or flight’ response to danger. The concept of maternal thinking also suggests that ‘motherly’ behavior and knowledge of children’s best interests are not merely grounded in biology. Rather than emerging naturally and exclusively between mothers and biological children, such behavior and knowledge emerge from purposeful thought and the engaged practice of caring for children… Mothering is not, then, the exclusive domain of biological mothers; it is a product one’s disciplined, focused, and persistent effort.

Next to the copied quote, I wrote "Yes!" I think that sums up my feelings nicely.

BOOKS!

I know I've been quiet lately. I've been busy changing what seems like millions of sticky, poopy diapers, cooking, and reading.

I haven't officially written about my updated thesis topic, but here's what's on my reading list right now:

Is Breast Best?: Taking on the Breastfeeding Experts and the New High Stakes of Motherhood by Joan B. Wolf









The Time Use of Mothers in the United States at the Beginning of the 21st Century by Rachel Connelly and Jean Kimmel

Feminist Mothering edited by Andrea O'Reilly

Motherhood and Feminism by Amber E. Kinser

The Paradox of Natural Mothering by Chris Bobel








Anyone want to guess at what I'm writing about and what my hypothesis might be? I'll mail you cookies if you're right!

(Somewhat) Brief Interviews with Lovely Ladies

My good friend L. is completing her thesis, doing research on feminist mothering and queering mothering. L. is also finishing her degree in Women's and Gender Studies at Eastern, and we started our program together in 2010. She drove to Ann Arbor today, and we sat down for a couple of hours with some iced tea at the kitchen table, and she interviewed me.

The questions were good ones, centering on my views of what feminism is, how I became a feminist, how feminism shaped my decision to have a child, birthing choices, and how I parent. In addition, we talked about whether or not 'queer' parenting is a possibility for heterosexual families, and what this would look like. (I won't write about all of this here, you can read about many of my views in this blog post).

During the interview, L. asked me about what kind of feminist community I have in New York City. I paused, and with reluctance shared that I really didn't have any feminist community at home. I didn't even really realize that I was so missing this part of my life until I stopped and thought about it. While it's true that I love my local moms' group and look forward to our weekly visits in Sakura Park, and I'm sure a handful of the moms may own up to the term 'feminist,' we don't talk about our experiences, children, and parenting through this type of filter.

I found that group through meetup.com (and I refuse to be embarrassed about this - I don't think I would have made it through those first few months without this group!), and I'm sure I could find some sort of feminist mothers' group there as well; it is New York City, after all! Or maybe I could start a fringe group in my area, I really wouldn't mind hosting that sort of thing.

Community is such an interesting thing. I was looking forward to spending more time with good friends in Ann Arbor this summer, but it turns out that without a car, and with friends moving further away, I'm spending more of my time alone (or with Ian) than I do in the New York.

You might ask, what is feminist community? Personally, feminism shapes my perspectives. It is the filter through which I process my experiences in life and make sense of the world. That said, it is incredibly valuable to have discussions with other people (and parents, specifically, now that I'm a mummy) that share this worldview, and to feel supported and supportive to others. Feminist community is a safe place to process, and sometimes, just vent.

For the feminists out there, what kind of community do you have? L. mentioned that her primary feminist community is online (though she and her husband are starting a feminist/queer parenting group next month, neat!). My feminist community consisted of my peers in my grad program until I moved, and now I really don't have any. And I miss it.

Looming Thesis Topic

I have two things left to finish my degree:

1. Write a 20-30 page paper for an independent study.
2. Write a 80-100 page thesis.

I've been working somewhat consistently since January, taking a few hours a week for reading, note-taking, and thinking. I'm not registered for classes right now, so I have some time. I was originally going to graduate at the end of the Fall 2012 semester, but the professor I wanted for my chair is on a research leave, so it's being pushed out to the Winter 2013 semester.

In meeting with B. last night, I am even more perplexed about what my actual thesis topic should be. I have all of this reading I've done on queer identity and heteronormativity, which are great places to start, but she emphasized the need to "ground" the theory - interviews with participants focusing on specific questions, reviewing a host of blogs or seasons of a television show, a statistical survey, you get the idea.

I hadn't even considered this a part of what I needed to do, but I see the value in it. And I have to have a list of ideas to her by Friday (two days!). This is good - I need a swift kick to the rear to really get moving and have direction, but eeks McGregor!

I am also very interested in the juxtaposition of feminism and attachment parenting. B. suggested an alternative project of looking at the intersection of queer parenting and these two topics.

So maybe I should start working on both papers, and see what they each develop into. Or maybe I just need to make a decision and stop putting off the inevitable.

It's like buying a wedding dress though - something might feel really right, but by committing to it, you are saying "no" to every other possibility, even if you see something later that is a better value, or more figure-flattering. I suppose the wonderful thing about research is that you can always work on whatever you want, one does want ones thesis to be outstanding and special.

This.

In response to the Time's piece last week on attachment parenting, and the outcry afterwards:

"Yes, the tenets of attachment parenting are regressive, and even potentially anti-feminist. But it’s unlikely that the individual women who practice them are going to be feminism’s downfall. What might actually kill feminism is our preference for shaming and tearing down individual women rather than advocating overdue policy changes around child-rearing: Pushing for mandatory long-term maternity or paternity leave, or high-quality childcare for all children, or a new ethos of work that doesn’t penalize parents (usually mothers) for trying to maintain a healthy and flexible work-life balance."

From Attachment Parenting: Beyond the Backslash by  Sady Doyle

The Big, Bad World

This is what I am thinking tonight:
How do I raise this little girl to be fearless, when I am so often afraid of what people will think?
How do I raise this little girl to conquer, when I so often can't get started?
How do I raise this little girl to be confident, when I'm stuck second guessing myself?

Little Felicity, it won't be easy to be strong. Being a woman is hard work, the world around you makes it hard. People expect you to be whole and to be every stereotypical woman at once, but you can't. You can't be a whole human being and have all of these conflicting identities.

There is strength in saying "No." There is strength in choosing for yourself who you are and how you show the world who that person is. There is strength in abandoning what is expected of you, and even more strength in not caring.

Excellent Article by The Nation

This is an excellent article on the high cost of motherhood by Bryce Covert for The Nation. It's definitely worth reading. In relation, Moms In Maine posted a piece on their blog this week that is well worth your time called "Wake Up Moms: You're Fighting the Wrong Fight!" (in response to the Time article I'm sure you're familiar with).

The "Motherhood Penalty"

Shelley Correll, an associate professor at Cornell University, is researching something she's calling the "motherhood penalty," that is, the professional disadvantage that women experience because of their status as mothers. Not only is there (still) a large gap between what men and women earn, but Correll's research is showing that women who are mothers earn substantially less than women who do not have children.



Something that I immediately thought about was how differently mothers and fathers are perceived. I was pleased to see that Correll addresses this in her article regarding the "motherhood penalty." writing that "Being a good father and a good employee are part of the 'package deal' defining what it means to be a man. Therefore, since the 'good father' and 'ideal worker' are not perceived to be in tension, being a good parent is not predicated to lead to lower workplace evaluations for fathers."

Not so for women. Though Correll is careful to note in her conclusions that while there is a definite wage disadvantage women experience for every child they have, her research does not show (at this time) that discrimination against mothers causes a decrease in this wage disadvantage.

From The Clayman Institute for Gender Research's article: 

"In one test, Correll and her colleagues found that evaluators consistently ranked mothers as less competent and less committed workers than childless women but ranked fathers as more competent and committed than non-fathers. In a follow-up study, the researchers responded to more than 600 newspaper ads for high-level business positions by sending out fake resumes for two equally qualified candidates that varied only in very subtle references to parenting activities. They found that the childless female candidate was twice as likely to be called in for an interview as the mother. Fathers experienced no call-back penalty."

In fact, according to Correll's article, fathers were offered higher salaries over childless men as they were seen as "more committed to paid work."

Questions: Has anyone experienced any discrimination in your job because of pregnancy or your status as a mother? If you don't have children, is this something that you worry about if you plan to start a family? And for those mommas currently at home, do you have concerns about what getting back into the workplace will be like for you?

[Thanks to Adventures in Boogieville, who also linked to this video]

Mother's Day for a New Mom

Ian, at my gentle urging a month or two ago, scheduled a massage for me today, my first official Mother's Day. Really, I would've loved to celebrate Mother's Day last year as well, but someone, who shall go unnamed, said that I wasn't a real mom yet because I wasn't carrying a real baby yet. I suppose this is a result of the women's movement.

When I walked in the dimly lit room with candles and soft music, the masseuse asked me what I'd like to to focus on in my time. "Well," I said, I had a baby a few months ago. I nurse, so my posture is deplorable and my back is sore, and I'm still having occasional pain from my cesarean five months ago."

Did I want her to work on my abs. I thought about it, I thought about what my stomach looked like. And I said, "Sure."

She left the room, and I stripped down and laid on the massage table. She came back in and started on my neck and back, moved to my arms. Then she lifted up the towel that was covering my backside, and asked me softly to slowly roll over. I paused for a second, and inhaled.

I don't think I've shown my stomach to anyone besides Ian, my mom, and my doctor since I gave birth five months ago. It is, shall we say, a bit flabby, and not what I thought my stomach would ever look like, especially when I consider my bikini-clad self on my honeymoon two years ago. The pregnancy left me with hundreds of stretch marks (this is not an exaggeration, I literally cannot count them all), not just on my stomach but on my hips, butt, and upper thighs. I even have a few rogue stretch marks in my armpits (this perplexes me to no end), on my calves, and on my breasts (at least these make sense!). The skin on my lower stomach is loose and somewhat resembles cottage cheese, even though the my skin is tightening and my stretch marks are lightening.

I had to muster up a little bravery, but really, it's Mother's Day, and I have to accept what comes with being a Mom. So I rolled over and exposed my big, momma belly, flaws and all. It was perhaps the first time I've accepted being Mom versus just being Felicity's mom. Maybe I'm not explaining the difference well, but Ian and I sometimes sit around with Felicity and think how funny it is that we have a tiny human that lives with us that we happen to take care of. We more see ourselves as her caretakers than as Parents (Parents with a capital P, that is). My parents are Parents. My mom is a Mom. How can I take on these roles?

I don't really have an answer, and am a little of unsure of how to end this post, except to link to The Shape of a Mother, a really beautiful website that I found almost a year ago.

Here I am, a real Woman, a real Mom.

Feminist Mothering: What Does a Feminist Mother Look Like?

Do you know about Blue Milk? You don't? You should.

Several years ago, we're talking 2007, Blue Milk posted a list of questions for feminist moms to answer (What Does a Feminist Mother Look Like?). As I've been starting work on my masters thesis on heteronormativity and heterosexuality, I've been struggling a great deal to intellectually understand the ways in which I mother; I always feel like I have to defend my actions, even the choice to have a child, and then, with even greater vigor, the fact that I am a stay-at-home mom. A feminist? At home?

How would you describe your feminism in one sentence? When did you become a feminist? Was it before or after you became a mother? 

Feminism is my religion; in the same way that Christianity will shape an individual's worldview, thoughts, and choices, so feminism is the core of how I interpret reality.

I became a feminist in high school. I won't say that the particular brand of feminism had much merit, but I became aware of the real differences in how men and women were treated, and became very interested in gender and its relation to sex.

37 Weeks Pregnant

What has surprised you most about motherhood?

Of course you know that you will love your child, so the fierce, tiger-mama love I have for my baby was anticipated. For me, all of the small moments surprised me and give me so much joy. Here is this beautiful little life, and I am witness to every new sound, every new movement. It is a pleasure to see her develop, and to know that my body, up to this point, has sustained hers 100%. I didn't expect to be so enraptured with everything she does.

How has your feminism changed over time? What is the impact of motherhood on your feminism?

My feminism has become much less political over time; I believe we need actual social reform. While certainly our government can implement helpful changes, these actions will not resolve the underlying sexism.

Now that I'm a mother, I'm much more sympathetic to stay at home moms (especially as I am one, currently). I used to think that staying at home was a sign of weakness and that these women always adhered to traditional (read harmful) feminine ideals. While I think it's wrong to assume that women should stay home (or should be the ones to give up their careers or be the ones to always sacrifice their desires and needs), there is something fantastic about spending so much time with my baby and knowing she's getting the very best I can give.

I'm also more sympathetic to moms in general; being a parent is hard, and I think that women are often unfairly burdened with a majority of the childcare and responsibilities around the house. I'm much more aware of all of the time and effort goes into raising a child. What can look very easy from the outside is incredibly difficult. The work is often unrecognized and unrewarded. Our society places little to no value on parents that choose to be stay at home parents.

Five Days Old

What makes your mothering feminist? How does your approach differ from a non-feminist mother’s? How does feminism impact upon your parenting?

Felicity does wear a lot of pink. Most of it was given to us, but I will confess to purchasing a pair of neon-pink shorts with ruffles on the ass a few weeks ago when I found them on clearance  (we call her "Lord Rufflebottom" when she wears them). I do try to stay with gender-neutral colors and baby items.

We are careful to not put any feminine stereotypes on her when singing, talking, and playing with her. We read books about girls and boys (our very favorite series are the "How Does a Dinosaur..." books by Jane Yolen, and we interchange "he" with "she"). We tell her she is both beautiful and strong.

But feminist parenting is so much more than avoiding pink and blue, girl and boy. I come to mothering very aware that gender and sex aren't the same thing, and I don't assume that my child will be straight. We are raising her to be intelligent, questioning, loving, caring, and confident in herself and her abilities, both as a person and as a woman (if that's how she chooses to identify). Feminism is as much about knowing and loving the self as it is about fighting against inequality for those that have been marginalized because of their sex, sexuality, gender-identification, nationality, skin color, economic status, or beliefs. I want her to be aware that every action has a consequence, even the simple actions and non-actions.

8 Weeks Old

Do you ever feel compromised as a feminist mother? Do you ever feel you’ve failed as a feminist mother?

Sometimes I feel like I don't do enough to be a conscientious parent. For example, we use disposable diapers because we couldn't afford the start-up cost of cloth diapering, and we have to pay too much per load of laundry to justify the long-term financial savings. That and I absolutely hate doing laundry and we can barely keep up with what we have already! We also can't afford to eat in an environmentally healthy way, not on one income in New York City.

Sometimes I think that I could do more to raise her less identified as "girl," but I'm not sure how to go about this.

Has identifying as a feminist mother ever been difficult? Why?

I actually had a really difficult time justifying my desire to have a child with my feminism. We laugh about it now, but I was reading books on why not to have children when we decided to get pregnant. Although my friends in my Women's and Gender Studies were happy for me, my professors were significantly less so (one actually encouraged me to wait to have children until I had my PhD and a secure job when I discussed the possibility of it with her before I got pregnant).


I felt like I constantly had to defend my decision to be a mom, and now have to defend my status as a stay at home mom, which many feminists believe to be a fate worse than death! I may be a stay at home mom, but I'm no housewife!

3 Months Old

Motherhood involves sacrifice, how do you reconcile that with being a feminist?

I do struggle with the juxtaposition between the independence and strength that a feminist identity encourages, and the ultimate selflessness and sacrifice that motherhood is. It is really hard to see a large portion of my identity so strongly tied to another.

I think, above all, feminism is about love, love through equality and justice. When I step back from the daily grind of mommy-hood, I recognize that we are raising her with as much love as we can muster. We love her enough to question ourselves constantly, which, more often than not, leads me to spend way too much time reading parenting books and blogs. Sometimes I have to remind myself to put down the book and pick up the baby - she's only this little once! 


If you have a partner, how does your partner feel about your feminist motherhood? What is the impact of your feminism on your partner?

Oh, thank the good lord that Ian (husband) is a feminist! He is a fantastic partner in every sense of the word. Really, he would make a better stay at home parent than I do. He is a considerate and thoughtful man and does so much to help me realize my dreams. Even though he's working full time, he does over half of the housework and steps into the primary-parent role several times a week so I can get out of the house to work on my thesis (and maintain my sanity). He changes diapers, he rocks to sleep, he would feed her if he could, he would've carried her for at least half of the pregnancy if biology would've allowed it.

We moved to New York City because we both decided that we wanted to, as a couple, as a family. Although my previous employer transferred me to a position in the city, the new position was underpaid and much more stressful. When we looked at childcare options, my whole paycheck would have covered a nanny or reputable day care, and the job was making me feel like a crazy person, and I didn't have time work on my thesis. So we decided together that it made more sense for me to stay at home. And, when Ian's two or three years are done at Columbia, we're going to find a place to move where I can pursue my doctorate and he can teach. (See what I mean though? I constantly feel like I have to justify what I do, because of these negative stereotypes about what it means to be a stay at home parent.)

First night not in her co-sleeper - seems healthy enough!

If you’re an attachment parenting mother, what challenges if any does this pose for your feminism and how have you resolved them?

Attachment parenting is interesting in that it really divides feminists into two camps. On one hand, there is something really beautiful about breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby-wearing, and the environmental, physical aspects of attachment parenting that mirrors the relationship humans have with the earth (and some would argue, that great female spirit that is a life source).

On the other hand, it is seriously hard to have a baby attached to your boobs all the time! The first several months I joked that I was within a six-block radius of our apartment, even when it was "Rachel Out" time. (I think I only ventured beyond this radius to attend counseling, to complain about my six-block radius).You have to be completely accessible and available for your baby, and this can be really difficult when you're trying to remember who you were before you had a baby. Oh, you were an independent woman who didn't break down in tears five times a week and didn't have spit up on all of her (very dirty because there isn't time to do laundry) clothes! Oh, you had other things besides baby poop to think about and talk about!

In the end, I do whatever I can to make Felicity as happy as possible,  but I also do what I need to do so that I am a functioning, happy adult that can raise her as best as I can, which sometimes means doing what is second-best for her (but not at all damaging), like having her sleep in her crib so I can spoon with my husband, or leaving her with a sitter if a night-out is needed. It's all about balance. I need to be healthy and happy so I can raise a healthy and happy child.

Do you feel feminism has failed mothers and if so how? Personally, what do you think feminism has given mothers?

This is a difficult question. I think there are certain strains of feminism that are more anti-mothering or pro-mothering than others. Feminism can create additional challenges for women when it seriously questions putting children first over the self  (like my old stereotype that stay at home moms were unthinking women - not necessarily so!).

On the flip side, how wonderful that feminism has given mothers choices about how to raise their children and go about their lives, like the freedom to work, if that is what a woman wants, or the freedom to not work, if that is what a woman wants. Choice is a wonderful, beautiful thing.