Motherhood, and why women are still human

Everyone is born out of a woman’s womb, and almost everyone has a mum. Almost universally, our first model of woman is of our mother. But how does that impact how we see women?

“You gave up the right to be selfish when you decided to become a mother!” said my 19-year-old son. I saw red. 

“I am your mother, not your indentured slave!” I retorted. “When does it end? Has my mum got her autonomy back yet, now I am over 50?” I paused. “What about your dad - did he give up all rights, too?” 

There are flexion points in your life that are nothing to do with events, just with realisations. This was one of them. It was a row, and it resolved - and yes, I had been selfish, but as we both agreed, I had every right to be so. It is a conversation that I have never forgotten. 

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This piece is not really so much about being a mother as it is about being a daughter. Beyond doubt, the most profound flexion point of my life had been 25 years before that conversation, when I first saw my oldest son. At that moment, everything changed. I knew I would die for him, kill for him, lie for him. I would do anything to preserve him, make him safe. My second thought was, “my mum feels like this about me”. The guilt washed over me, and I have been a far better daughter ever since. I felt no different about any of my children. Few mothers do, I suspect. 

This sort of love for one’s child is probably an evolutionary advantage in a species where the young are born so helpless and immature. It is at least partly hormonal, by the way. One of the things motherhood does for you is to make you more aware of your body’s biology. A baby crying could set my milk off, with a rush of hormones giving me the thirty-second warning if I was out and about. I knew about that because they told me in the antenatal class. What I didn’t know was that the same, almost painful, hormonal rush would still overcome me years later when I was proud of my children or felt they were hurt. Being a woman is already a heady biological experience. Being a mother is a lifelong intensifier. 

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As women and feminists, it is worth thinking about the impact of this. Our first model of “woman” is of a person who definitively will put you first and herself second. It is of a woman who will give generously of her body and ask for nothing in return but hope for love. It is of a woman who has given up her autonomy for the good of others and of the species. 

Girls naturally look to their mothers as role models. While they do benefit from being the centre of their mother’s world (yay!) this also means that they learn that what women do is sacrifice themselves (boo). Meanwhile, boys learn that women are the sacrificers, the givers, and the second-place-takers - and that they, the boys, are the important ones. Even in daycare, staffed by women, usually low-paid women at that, that is almost certainly what they learn. Is it any surprise that girls tend to go on to be deferent, to be the fussers, the soothers, the patient listeners? And that boys tend to grow into men who do not see women as quite fully human? I don’t think I need to paint you a picture - you can probably draw on your own life experience to understand the ramifications of this early model. I hope it doesn’t upset you as much as it did me. 

One of the consequences of women so often being denied full personhood is that women are exploited and abused, often for their sexual and reproductive abilities. Women are murdered by men at hundreds of times the rate at which women murder men. Around a fifth of us are raped, yet female-on-male sexual assault is almost unheard of. Women are underpaid, expected to undertake the overwhelming majority of domestic labour, even if they work outside the home, and they disproportionately are allocated low-status, nurturing roles. All of these can be traced back, at least partly, to the internal theory of woman that so many of us have. 

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So what can we, as women, as feminists, do about it? What can society do to alter this? I do not advocate that women cease having children - aside from the benefits to the species, I am a better person for having done it, and I do not think women should be denied that chance if they can and want it. Nor is it a solution for women to hand their child over to another woman to be cared for. Solutions are hard, and there is no easy answer. But here are some ideas. 

First of all, society no longer has the same need for the same divisions of labour that might have seemed necessary a hundred years ago when manpower really meant just that. There is, in many heterosexual partnered families, no reason why fathers cannot play as big a part in children’s upbringing as mothers do. It might seem inconvenient, but you are gifting your son or daughter the ability to see half the species as human. That is worth having, isn’t it? 

In all families, raise your children with a reverence for the strength of women. Men are such simple creations by comparison. Women are the means by which humanity became the apex species on the planet, and the ability to reproduce is to be prized and valued, not taken for granted. We are not lesser, we are the greater half of the species. Say so and mean it. 

Work politically for greater access for women and girls to have the support that they need to achieve equality in humanity as well as in parenting. Work towards things which free girls from the patriarchy that is fed by their inner model through single-sex environments and schools. 

Normalise gender nonconformity: powerful women who don’t put others first are great models. Build women’s groups where you can share your experiences and be granted autonomous personhood. It is your right. 

Finally - and this is something that you, personally, can do, starting today: everyone should be aware of this as a lens through which to view their own experiences, as children, as adults and as parents - I here address both sexes. Teach your daughters about it, teach your friends, and for Goddess’ sake, teach your sons.