There was a kerfuffle in the online lady-universe in the seconds after Natalie Portman dared to proclaim while accepting her Oscar that motherhood was the most important role of her life. Mary Elizabeth Williams fired the first professional shot, arguing in Salon that Portman was selling out her ovaried sisters by implying that creating, birthing and raising life was more important than being lauded for pretending to be a ballerina pretending to be a swan who stabs herself in the gut.
At the time I thought, “Jesus, lady, chillax,” and moved on, but a similar conversation today, in which it was asserted that a woman’s pre-baby lifestyle and traits must remain the dominant ones for the rest of her life or she’s somehow settling for some sad Betty Draper-esque existence, renewed my contemplation of the subject. Specifically, it had me yet again thinking, “Jesus, lady, chillax.”
The notion that a woman’s identity is somehow pitiable if it gives itself over to that which comes with motherhood is based on a few flawed premises:
1. That there was some inherent superiority to the pre-baby life.
My life pre-baby was pretty cool, involving somewhat regular trips to museums, an occasional night out at the ballet and a concert here and there. But most nights involved lounging around in sweats watching television, reading or fiddling with the Times crossword, and doing laundry. And now that I have a child I still fiddle with the Times crossword, watch television in my sweats, do laundry and make somewhat regular trips to museums. Except now when I go to the museum I get to watch another set of eyes widen at the riot of color in a Lichtenstein.
2. That there is some soul-shackling inferiority in the tasks associated with parenthood.
This would seem to include spooning mushy peas into a babbling baby, taking a child to piano or lacrosse, or wiping little noses. So here’s my challenge to those who poopoo the rigors of handling, er, poopoo: What did you do today that was somehow better than helping guide a child through the world well fed, happy and healthy? Oh, you dumped some food in your cat’s bowl, got some froyo, and went to Target? Well played.
3. That increased selflessness equals weakness.
Because that’s what the argument folks like Williams are making comes down to. That the act of giving up some concern about yourself — your social life, your poetry reading circuit, your wardrobe — somehow means you’re giving up, period. (This is not to say that those who never have children are living an inferior, vapid life. I am specifically addressing those who would criticize mothers for reveling in motherhood.) What some frown upon as weakness, others call maturation.
It’s a sad group that points to a woman setting her Facebook profile picture to a smiling shot of her child and sees evidence of an anti-feminist plot to lease all available brain space to the patriarchy and the kiddieocracy. Because sometimes a cute picture of your kid is just your favorite picture that week. And it’s your Facebook profile, not your obituary. The day that the sum of our feminist selves comes down to what snapshot we’re putting on a site designed to ensure college students get laid is the day that Betty Friedan officially lost.
It’s a sad group that believes talking about your daily goings-on with your child when asked how you’re doing and what you’ve been up to is proof that you, poor thing, have lost yourself. They have no idea that this life lived in tandem with a child is a new evolution of you and it’s pretty goddamned spectacular.
Since having a child I have helped save 30,000 teachers’ jobs. I have helped my husband grieve the loss of his mother. I have done the best writing of my life. I have built communications vehicles from nothing into powerful tools that speak daily to tens of thousands of people.
But I have also changed approximately 4,200 diapers, read Fancy Nancy and the Posh Puppy roughly 108 times, made 16 packages of personalized pink sugar cookies for Valentine’s Day treats, and turned tears to smiles with a belly tickle more times than I can count. I have, without regret, wrapped up nearly every ounce of my concern in the well-being of my daughter.
This has been the most important role of my life.
And this is what a feminist looks like.
brunchbird.wordpress.com 
Sounds about right.
I especially liked number two, but thankfully I am no longer in the number two business 🙂 I applaud this sentiment and wish more people had this kind of perspective when it comes to life in general. I get made fun of or frowned at sometimes because I choose not to get a baby sitter so I can go get “my drink on”. I instead tell them that if it is something I can’t do with my children, then I generally don’t do it. I would concede though that the occasional night out is in order, just don’t think I want to be seen as that parent who has to escape from the kiddos at every turn. My children will only be this young once and like Kansas (the rock band) said in that one song “…only for a moment, then the moment’s gone…”. I will have plenty of time for me when they are grown and when that day comes I am sure I will be anxious for the return of little feet running up and down the hallway and the squeals that go along with them.
Beautifully written and right on. I don’t judge those women who don’t have children for having lesser lives but I often find them judging me. Even worse, I often find mothers judging each other for “not giving enough.” Our gender would be so much stronger if we supported each other. As for parenting, I saw a recent episode of Parenthood where someone called it a burden and the mother responded to that by saying, “Yea. It can be sometimes, but really, it’s more like a privilege.”
I love this. Absolutely love it.
VERY well said. Thank you for putting a fine point on the jumbled mess of words that get stuck in my head whenever someone smugly refers to the lifestyle Beth and I lead (and specifically to Beth’s somehow oddly diminished stature) with that clucking tone that makes me want to scream.
Very, very well-put. When Sabine comes running to me hating you (i.e., years 13-17) she will be reminded how very lucky she is to have a super mom with such perspective. That is, after the deep-fried Creme Egg breakfast, $$$ trip to the M.A.C. counter, and “Intervention” marathon, of course.
Lovely column, Cynthia. Motherhood has been so amazing and wonderful for you, and it’s an honor to get to share it through your words. I’m so glad for the chance to read accounts like this. Miss you guys!
Is it bad that I just did a fist pump or eight?
Thank you, everyone. I’m finding that when women who launch into these eyeroll-inducing shpiels it is always about them — their insecurities — not the parent to whom they’re saying it. It still makes it no less goofy and ignorant. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to update my restraining order keeping Johanna and her deep-fried Creme Egg omelets 500 feet from my child at all times…
This post is the exact oppositte of where I’ve been the last several months, making it probably the most valuable insight I could’ve crossed whilst, in my otherwise mundane day in day out, my wiley subconscious has its ever integrating way with me. I think the bottom line is one’s value has little to do with what they are doing, indeed not even who (read=mother, writer, coworker, wife, friend etc)they are but more is in the extent to which we engage in said act of being bc, afterall, it’s what’s in front of us and if we’re showing up to it that constitutes the living of our life. I am all head-cased lately bc I am single, childless AND shamelessly enjoying it. I suddenly find myself threatened by the numbers of people of pointedly, or passively, questioning my choices. It’s a real comfort to know my grating sense of doubt, or anyway my eye-rolling whatever-ness periodically followed by oh shit, should I be doubting? exists in exact same measure no matter our choices. BTW, your numbered logical breakdown is pure CK, my fave thing about your writing (that crack-lined wit.) At the end of the day why the hell can’t people just let people do their thing??
I just stumbled on to this, and wow. Not only does this post reek of “protesting too much,” but it sounds to me like your friends, married and single, are better off without you condescending to them. I’m a mother as well, but I don’t walk around patting myself on the back and telling myself I’m somehow superior to people who made different choices. Not to mention that this post is disgracefully cruel to your friends who might want desperately to meet a nice guy and have a baby of their own, but haven’t been so blessed.
A feminist, or any decent human being, does not judge or mock other women for their choices. This post is heartless and smug, and you come across as someone I wouldn’t want to know.
If having a baby is your proudest accomplishment, you must have had a pretty sad life. Sorry you spent so many lonely weekends “going to Target” when you were single, but don’t put that on everyone.
My life rocks. And I have plenty of time to have a baby. If I want to.
Oh anonymous women of the Internet, you never fail to disappoint. Looks like your jerking knees knocked you in the face before you read the line: “This is not to say that those who never have children are living an inferior, vapid life. I am specifically addressing those who would criticize mothers for reveling in motherhood.” And here’s a tip: when your first paragraph finger-wags not to “judge or mock other women for their choices”, don’t make your second paragraph, “If having a baby is your proudest accomplishment, you must have had a pretty sad life.”
I am a bit late reading this post – but I had to comment. Sometimes you and I don’t always agree, so I winced a little at the title – hoping this was not another one of those times (What? I don’t like it when there are disagreements!). However, I just had to pipe up and tell you how much I loved this post, and how refreshing I thought it was. Thank you for posting it! 🙂