Rethinking to mother and mothering

Beyond the confines of gender, fertility, a woman's identity

I was challenged today me to re-think what it means to mother, to be a mother and to be mothered.

I dwell with just how many, how often these insidious messages are, that we women receive oh so often in this society and patriarchal culture—

This notion that a woman is only really a woman if she has her own children, preferably her own biological children. That only then will she be a true woman, fulfill some destiny, that that is the truest, most genuine or only version of motherhood, the ultimate woman.

That’s fucked up.

But often some of the most motherly mothers are the people who don’t have any children themselves. Yet, they are the most deeply maternal sort, the ones who care for and nurture and act as mothers to friends and family members and community and students in countless ways.

In short, mothers exist far beyond how we think of them in the traditional and biological and gender-specific ways.

I think of that saying that “it takes a village” [to raise a child].

I agree with that wholeheartedly, and think—well, yeah, or at least it should. We definitely don’t live out and—as a culture- embody those values in our hyperindividualist American culture.

Yet, I find that above statement while important to also be a bit tired and worn out, because we don’t really appreciate what communal mothering and caretaking means for other cultures.

But I thought—how true that is—yes, our mothers are under-appreciated and they deserve oh-so-so much more financial and emotional support than they receive in American culture. So true. So not new. Unfortunate realities.

But also— let’s take a step back and consider the pervasiveness that all women, if they don’t procreate, will of course be regretful and unfulfilled in life. There’s this premise that if you aren’t a mother, then you aren’t truly living out your gender’s destiny.

Bullshit.

As this podcast (We Can Do Hard Things) pointed out, not only is that notion very restricting to genderqueer and nonbinary folx, as it also deeply upholds patriarchal ideas.

And—do we think the same about men? That the really aren’t a man if they haven’ fathered a children?

I don’t think so. Maybe if they haven’t had sex, but procreation isn’t the determination of their gender roles actualized in the same way that it happens for women. I don’t think. In my opinion and lived embodied experience as a woman. Specifically, a nearing middle-age and nearing perimenopausal age as childless woman.

I take in, step back and consider all of the many ways in which I have been mothered, especially recently, by some of my closest girlfriends, who are some of the most maternal, nurturing, compassionate, gentle, motherly people that I have ever known. They also don’t have their own children.

Whether by choice or not is not really the issue here—the question is why does that matter? Why does your focus go there? Why did MINE go there? It’s hard to break free from those restrictions.

We all need those who mother us all throughout our lives—who nurture and care for us in a motherly ways. We need those friends and relatives that love and support in maternal affection and care.

And—as author Marisa Renee Lee reminds us—we also need to remember to mother ourselves, too often, especially women.

Before we endeavor to try to mother other babies and small humans, as was Lee’s own journey, needing to heal before trying again to conceive and bear her own children on her infertility journey, we also must and prioritize the need to care for ourselves.

I certainly have had to learn that.

My mother was a phenomenal mom. Despite her own trauma and dysfunctional past, her limited financial resources, I was always loved and cared for, mothered beyond any other I can imagine.

I often times think had I had my own children, despite having so much more, especially in terms of financial and educational resources, I don’t think that I would have that depth, that degree of altruistic maternal love that my mother had.

But I also think this—

My mother, despite loving her children very deeply, also did so desperately, almost despairingly at points. She had received the message very clearly not only from her generation and culture, but also her immediate family and the community that—

Her worth was based on the man she was with. Her worth was based on her role as a mother.

And she could never live beyond that.

In my effort to break cycles and intergenerational trauma, I’ve come to realize, is this:

I was meant to learn from her example and to accept that I have self-worth and value in my own right. In my own childless life.

She told me this, of course. She did not/could not do that.

So I received that modeled and demonstrated message; it affected me more than I would like to admit. And certainly more than I realized. Especially as of late.

But now, as I embrace my life with opportunities for a life that I enjoy, with independence and freedom and mobility, rich with travel and books and good food and interesting, stimulating conversations, I smile and enjoy.

But here’s the kicker—

It doesn’t mean that I am not a mother or that I haven’t mothered. I have. I will continue to do so.

I mother my good friends. I mother my students. I certainly mothered my former partner’s child. I mother my cousin’s children when I supply them with books.

I may not be a mother in the traditional sense, but my heart and compassion and ability to and love of nurture is still present in my life and in the lives of others in oh-so-many ways.

I am an unrecognized and untraditional mother.

There are a lot of us. They may seem invisible and go unnoticed and undervalues in this society, but I take pause and recognize it.

In doing so, I feel more restored, rejuvenated and my cup fills. Why? Again the patriarchal, gender stereotypes determining and defining my worth as a woman still?

Perhaps.

Or, maybe, instead, it’s a recognitions that we all don’t needs traps and labels of one set way of doing a family or of being a woman or doing motherhood. It need not be so much one of imprisonment. Instead, it can be freeing.

It takes all sorts of people to keep the world operating, to keep us going. Mothering can exist in many forms. It need not be one stagnant identity, based on gender and through a procreative role.

Recognizing that is to honor those who get what being a mother to truly is—loving, nurturing, action-based, focused more on altruism and compassion and love for others and self. Those who get that it is about showing up and being there for others and doing service, rather than just getting the honor or recognition or a title. Or the Mother’s Day card.

I think about this as well when I consider my own maternal grandmother who peace-d out and abandoned her own four small, biological children. Culturally, she was still considered and granted the title of mother. But was she one? Always, at least?

The point is not to judge, but to push back and challenge our assumptions and restrictions.

Here’s to all the mothers—all the kinds that exist. Even if they are your best friends, your mentor or educator, that woman who has your back in a sexist workplace or field. Perhaps the mother is that gay-bor (neighbor) who care for beloved furry friend, letting them out to potty when you have a day trip planned.

Here’s to all the unacknowledged mother and mothering that happens, those unconventional ‘mothers’ who make the world go round. The ones that sustain us and keep us going.