Part 7. Did Sylvia Plath have Homegirls?

The Pine sol commercials and ads for fabric softener are just part of our problem.  The endless images of smiling mothers alone with charming children in spotless houses are the crux of it.  Someone has twisted the reality of motherhood until it is small enough for a sound bite or a thirty second ad.  Motherhood: the great thirst quencher, naturally sweet and easy to fit into your daily routine.  Yes, you too can be the superwoman you always thought your mother was.  Huh?

In my three years of motherhood, I’ve often lamented that there is no honest dialogue about the complexity of motherhood.   But a major source of difficulty I think many of us face is that we are mothering without the benefit of a loving community.  Motherhood was never meant to be a solo adventure. Parenting was not just meant for a child’s mother and father. The nuclear family overburdens and suffocates parents who are struggling to juggle a bevy of responsibilities and maintain their sanity.  My best friend, Mirlande, put it brilliantly, “The nuclear family is radioactive.” Ashe.

Pull the ads and images apart.  There are so many messages contained within them that undermine our efforts to be good mothers.  The idea of a good mother in this culture seems to be that of a self-sacrificing machine.  But we are not machines.  We are human and we have needs.  From the time I was a child I spent lots of time writing.  I’d always been able to make choices about when I wrote, for how long, where etc.  I knew that motherhood would probably turn that reality inside out but the hows were a mystery to me.  Aren’t most women on the planet mothers?  Why should anything about motherhood be a mystery?

I have seen the solution. The unlocking of a mystery that never needed to be. Not in the parenting aisles of Barnes and Noble.  In a field of mutete in Rundu, Namibia where women worked together and talked with babies tied to their backs.  Across the water grandparents, older aunts, and cousins form a tribe around a mother and child.  A unit so close that the mother can breathe deeply and the child feels secure watched by many eyes and cared for by many loving hands.  In my travels across the Southern region of Africa almost every person I met was a parent but they still studied, partied, worked, created art, traveled, pursued their dreams, worked and enjoyed balanced lives because family support was a given.  I’ll never forget when two of the people I was closest to in Namibia told me that they both had children.  I was shocked.  We’d known each other for eight months.  It was all so matter of fact.

 Unfortunately, most of the mothers I know in the United States are mothering in isolation.  Without community support mothers are stressed, relationships are taxed, and parents are forced to put their children in the care of strangers because of financial worries.  Many moms struggle to create a semblance of balance between parenting, work, self-care and socializing. (for those of us who are artists add in our desperate need for quiet, creative time)  I think most of us just give up and live with the imbalance that results from not having a network to call on.  I am convinced that post-partum depression is as much about being overwhelmed and alone as it is about hormonal shifts after giving birth.   Without paternity leave, men are also pushed into a corner where they have to work when they would rather be at home.  What’s a mama to do?  

I’ve made a conscious decision to create the community I want for my family.  It’s an international gumbo of conscious, creative, fun-loving men, women and children.  I’ve found that my life feels so much more balanced with other mothers in it.  Sometimes I hook up with a friend for a quick cup of decaf cappuccino and as much of an update as we can squeeze into a breathless hour without our children.  More often, I get together with friends and their children.  When the children find their roles and rhythms and drift off to play we bask in the joy of adult words and thoughts and dreams.  And it can be so beautiful.  When we laugh, dance, talk about books and our hair.  When we whisper about men and sex or rejoice over our writing, painting, beading or share our visions. Or when we just listen deeply to one another.  Sometimes in our quest for perfection, in the drive to live up to whatever ideal mothering images we have ingested, we are quick to lecture and judge each others' mothering ideas or offer solutions when maybe all the other woman wants is an ear.  Community means knowing when to be quiet.  Community knows when a shoulder is needed instead of a word.

We all come from families but so many events, places and policies are not family-friendly and this also leads some mothers to isolate themselves.  I remember rolling into a burrito joint with six other mothers.  (yes, six)  We all had strollers and babies around eight months old.  One woman practically tried to shrink herself and her baby.  She apologized constantly when she hadn’t done anything wrong.  She offered to leave, to move, and to compromise her baby’s comfort because she imagined that somehow she was in everyone’s way.  Later, she confessed, “I haven’t been out in so long.  I used to go out all the time.” Her face lit up, “ I need to do this with other mothers more often.”  Yes, mama we probably all do.

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